Chapter Nineteen

My father loves jazz music. He's a man obsessed and it's quite out of character with his hardened military disposition. (He says it came out of a strict upbringing. Jazz functioned as his rebellion against his affluent parents who saw jazz and blues musicians as the "devil's henchmen.") You see, it's rare for my father to do things like converse with his children or their friends-he's from the old school mentality of I pay the bills and your mother handles the growing up issues-but there are some Fridays when everything changes. He'll come home from work, loosen his tie, and retreat to our basement. He grabs a beer from the refrigerator and turns on his old record player; the same one he's had since he was in high school. Something happens to my father when he's absorbing the murky undertones of a piano or the come-hither notes that a saxophone invokes. He starts to use words like "those cats dig cool, Melanie Jane", plays air drums with the tabletop, and shares stories of his early forays into the jazz underworld.

One of my father's favorite stories involves a club called The Blue Note. He had returned from some sort of "military operation" and decided to recuperate at his favorite jazz club. The bar was imbibed in smoke and a quartet was lost in a rendition of "Light My Fire" that caused a frenzy of head bobbing and according to my father made "…Jim Morrison look like a fry cook at McDonalds." My father was humming along and sipping his whiskey when his eyes shifted across the room and he saw two men fighting.

He stood up and moved over, ready to rescue the lady pressed between their two chests, and stopped dead when he heard, "You don't know anything about her" to which the other guy had replied, "I know her better than you ever will." In my father's special way with words, he always turned to me at this point in the story, and said, "Melanie Jane, if you listen to nothing else I say, I want you to hear this."

I replied, "Never allow someone in your presence to confuse Billie Holiday and Aretha Franklin?"

"No honey, although that is equally important."

I nodded and guessed again, "There's a big difference between big band and jazz therefore it's okay to berate those that don't realize that?"

He patted my head proudly as if I had hit the winning run in a World Series Little League game and said, "No, I'm not talking about that either. I hope you always remember that as well. I don't want to have any grandchildren who don't know what good music is." He turned the volume knob down, careful to avoid breaking the switch off, and motioned for me to sit down. I think it was because he didn't speak to my sisters or me that often, that when he did, he had our full attention like he was imparting valuable lessons about life. He continued, "I'm talking about love."

My gaze was stoic and I prayed that my father wasn't forcing me to endure the birds and the bees talk, version two. I replied meekly, "What do you mean?"

My father stared at me long and hard, trying to imprint his knowledge into my head through osmosis or telepathy, which I'm not sure. He took a swig of his beer and said, "Those two men, ruining probably the best rendition of 'Light My Fire' that I had ever heard, were irrational and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. I don't like to see ladies thrown into the middle of fights, but I knew better than to walk into a love triangle. Love is funny like that, Melanie Jane. You can't explain it and you can't make other people think reasonably when it comes to it. It's best to let it be and mind your own business, and for the love of God make sure to avoid getting yourself into that situation."

"No love triangles," I replied, trying to figure out what that had to do with anything. In high school, I was voted the girl least likely to end up in a situation out of an episode of Knots Landing.

"Not just love triangles, but situations like-" My father paused abruptly and began tapping his hands to the jazz melody in his head. He took another sip of his beer and tried to elucidate his ramblings, "…let me try to explain this better. Love is chaos, but it's chaos in the most tempting form."

I still had no idea what the man was talking about, but it was rare to see him so impassioned about anything. I nodded and said, "Got it, Dad."

He patted my head and explained, "No, no…you're not getting me. It's like Nina Simone's 'Love Me or Leave Me.' The melody is fast and hard…it gets embedded in your head..." My father paused as he tapped his hands against his temples, like I needed to know where my head was located. He smiled at me nervously, as if he knew he were certifiably insane. He continued, "…A good jazz song stays with you long after its over. It's volatile, amazing, and renders you helpless under its spell. That's love, Melanie Jane. I knew not to get involved in a situation involving two men in love with the same girl because it's irrational. Love is never what we expect it to be. It's bizarre, enigmatic, and rarely makes sense to anyone. Why do you think so many artists try to conquer the subject? Love is something that even great jazz musicians strive to interpret with a hit or miss success rate."

I glanced around the room and eyed the beer in his hands. I replied, "Dad, I think maybe you should-"

He shook his head, angered by my assumptions, and continued, "Love is universal, sweetheart. You can't avoid it forever. We're all guessing and the best you can do is sit back, enjoy the sounds of the guitar, and allow things to work out like they're meant to. It always does. Like I can count on Ella Fitzgerald remaining the undisputed best female singer of all time, I know not to expect people to act sanely in the face of love's clutches. Even the most reasonable person can crumble and become fodder for love's fancy. We've all got that one person that inspires us to create our own jazz song…" His voice always trailed off at this part of the story. He would get this strange, glazed over look to his eyes, which opened and shut several times before he finally yawned and said, "…hand me another beer, sweetheart."

Like I said before, it's totally out of character with my father's distant nature. I've always assumed there was something in the jazz music (subliminal messages that state, "love good, hate bad"), or he couldn't hold his liquor. With the rise of the sun the next day, it was like the conversation never took place as my father regained his common sense and ask-why-every-five-seconds outlook. So I would blow it off as the ramblings of a stressed-out white-collar worker, but I've since learned that my father made a very good point. Never try to impose reason on someone lost to the whims of love. They're like people who suffer from Turrets syndrome or have no impulse control. They act with little logic and, if you dare to get involved, they suck you into their mess. It's like getting lost in the Bermuda Triangle. You're gone for good.

But did I think to heed his advice then? No.

Instead, I became the Sandra Bullock character in Love Potion Number Nine. I went from virtually unnoticed to having two guys interested in me and pressuring me to know what I wanted. One of the guys was Mr. Right in every way and the other one was the guy I depended on to lighten my moods.

I think the worst part was that I didn't realize how much I counted on Justin until this love thing got between us. I used to talk about stepping back and accepting the end of our friendship, but I couldn't follow through with it. The truth was I counted on him more than I ever wanted to admit to myself and I never considered how much I would actually miss the dramatic freak. My boldness was laughable. I was about as tough as Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch were cool.

It didn't help that Justin had been invading my dreams. It was quite bizarre and a sure-fire indication that a life in the nuthouse was awaiting me. It always started out the same. We were sitting in the movie theater and we were laughing at the snack bar trailer on the screen -dancing sodas and overflowing popcorn-when out of the blue, this huge box of Junior Mints falls from the sky and knocks Justin unconscious. At first I laugh, but Justin is lying on the ground and doesn't move. I start to shake him; his eyes open and he says in this eerie narrator-from-an-Edgar-Allan-Poe-story voice, "If only you admitted you loved me, Laney." Before I have the chance to respond, Justin and the box of junior mints dissolve into the dirty flooring of the theater. I start to holler out for him, but he's gone, and I wake up with this disturbing feeling emanating from my chest.

In the nights proceeding the delivery of that stupid box, I experienced the same dream. I always awoke gasping for breath, jumped out of bed, and suffered from the beginning of a panic attack. It was quickly followed by a staring match with my phone that went on for about fifteen minutes before I finally fell back to sleep. My dreams were always Justin-free after that first nightmare which only further convinced me that I was a girl on the brink of insanity.

Marisa believed it was a sign that I was afraid that I would lose Justin before I had a chance to confess my love for him. I didn't really like that hypothesis so she asked her newest boytoy, Reggie, who was a psych major, what he thought. Reggie started to laugh at the death by Junior Mints scenario, and, needless to say, was deemed useless. I even went as far as to look into a dream book, but I came up with the same thing. Nothing. I was simply nuts and Justin's dramatic demeanor had affected my mindset.

I prayed that the nightmares stopped before I returned home. I didn't need my sister or mother prying into my slow downward spiral into the world of lunacy. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the airport (which garnered me more than my fair share of stares) and chanted that I could do this. Orlando was home. Orlando was big enough for both Justin and me. It would not kill me to never talk to the idiot again.

I wasn't sure I believed it, but I could try.

My cellphone rang while I was waiting to board my plane in the terminal. I felt everyone's eyes on me, a few people checking their own phones for incoming calls. I answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Laney, I wanted to make sure your flight was on time," my sister's voice reverberated into my ear.

"So far, so good. Are you meeting me at the terminal?"

"You know how hard parking is and I have to pick up a few things for mom at the store…I'll meet you by baggage claim. Right outside. How does that sound?"

"You want to get out of helping me carry my luggage."

"True. So I'll see you in two hours by baggage claim. If I'm a little bit late, wait by one of the benches."

My sister had this weird tone to her voice, but I decided not to get into it. I wondered if she had somehow found out about everything with Justin and was planning a talk where she explained how monumentally stupid Justin was. No, it was inconceivable. There was no way…Spencer wouldn't say anything, I hadn't talked to Steph about it, and Justin was too scared of my sister to say hello to her half the time.

An attendant's voice filled the air, requesting people with small children and first class to board the plane. I replied, "Sure. See you later, Dana."

"Later."

I turned off my phone as my row was called over the speakers. I stood up, stretching out while I could, and tossed my bag over my shoulder. I glanced around the terminal in JFK one last time, secretly wishing one of my professors would rush to the gate and announce that I wasn't allowed to leave. He would point out that I never took my final and have to stay for the summer.

The truth was I didn't want to stay. As much as I loved New York City and being independent, I knew that I had to figure out a way to deal with Justin. I couldn't stand unsettled affairs and even if Justin and I didn't remain friends in the end, we needed to hash everything out. I didn't want to be eighty years old and regret leaving an abyss of unsaid things between us that drives my walker in front of a ten-wheeler.

I went over and over in my head how to handle things with Justin. I considered the nice approach where I explained how flattered I was and how any girl would be lucky to have him, but frankly, I was still mildly annoyed with him for telling Spencer and the words might come out sounding more like, "Die, bastard. DIE!" Then there was the disinterested reaction where I could pretend like it never happened. Sure. I'd call and invite him to go see the new summer blockbuster before he left on tour. I'd act like nothing happened. He didn't kiss me and I didn't enjoy the lip-lockage at all. Unfortunately for me and this plan, Justin was never a good actor and I doubted he'd buy into the if-we-pretend-it-didn't-happen-then-it-didn't-happen mentality (Yes, his is a fractured psyche).

Finally, there was the horrific "Why Me" monologue which relied heavily on exasperated sighs and overused phrases like "how could you" and "you've broken my heart." But somehow I couldn't get the image of Marlon Brando in The Godfather out of my head. A line like, "you've broken my heart" sounded much better coming from someone as intimidating as he was with an Italian accent. I'd sound like Alvin Chipmunk on helium.

By the time my plane landed, I was no closer to a sensible strategy for how to cope with Justin's latest antics. There was going to be no easy way to handle everything…and I hadn't even thought about Spencer in all of this mess. What was it going to be like when I saw him? Would he look as angry as he had seemed on the phone?

Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. All the girl ever talked about was Spencer.

I don't think momentarily wondering about Spencer's angry reaction constitutes as talking about Spencer all the time.

It does in my book.

And what book is that? The book of the lovesick and demented?

I would think that you of all people would be more appreciative of my lovesick disposition since you were the one who drove me to it.

That's right. Everything that happened was entirely Laney's fault. She's supposed to be the brains in our friendship. She should have foreseen this problem and handled it when we were thirteen and before it became a possible friendship-ending mess. I mean Laney Jane should've explained that we would hit adulthood, she would be beautiful, and I'd realize that she was the only girl for me. It would've solved so many of our problems in the long run and gotten us right to the kissing, and let's face it. It's all about the kissing. Sure, it's nice to have a soulmate and someone who knows you really, really well, but if the lips ain't working, then I doubt anything else is either.

Luckily, my problems with Laney weren't kissing related. Of course, I wasn't sure that helped me at the moment. I was going crazy trying to make sure everything went perfectly for Laney's return.

Dana called and told me that Laney's plane was on time and that she would be waiting by the baggage claim. I wasn't sure what I would have done without Dana's help and I didn't think I could ever repay her for supporting me in this, however shocking that help was. Laney Jane was going to be taken by surprise with no escape. She'd have to come with me and hear me out.

The guys were helping me too. Aside from encouragement, they managed to convince Johnny that I needed to take a lunch break to visit my doctor for shot nerves or my mother was threatening to make me stay home (Chris credits himself with this masterful cover-up). That left me barely enough time to disappear from final rehearsals, shower and change, pick up Laney at the airport, and disappear with her before I had to get back to Lakeland for more rehearsal.

With everything in place, I should've been celebrating--maybe a well-placed cabbage patch of joy--but the stress of unrequited love along with tour hell was making me sick to my stomach. I hated the fact that it was completely up to me now. I loved Laney and she loved me, but it was like knocking skulls to get her to accept it. I prayed that she would listen to me and realize that no guy was going to love her as much as I did. I had to make her see that Spencer wasn't the answer to our recent difficulties; I was, or I guess the best way to phrase it was we were.

I hopped off the stage and reached for my towel. I tried to get as much of the sweat off my body as possible while I gathered up my duffel bag and attempted to move.

"So good luck today."

I turned around and Chris was standing there with an unreadable expression. I couldn't decide if it was the "you poor bastard" or the "you got 'em, tiger" look. I shrugged as if I wasn't worried-nerves of steel-and replied, "Thanks."

"You're scared shitless."

I nodded, "Hell yeah."

"Be honest with her, J. Tell her that she'll always be your best friend, but that you know it could be more. Say…" Chris's voice trailed off as his hands went on my shoulders. He looked at me, making his eyes widen and his eyelashes flutter, and continued, "I love you. None of my success matters without you here to share it with and-" Chris was interrupted by a cough. Chris and I glanced over and met Wade's shocked reddened face.

Wade practically covered his eyes and I realized Chris's hands were still on my shoulders in a very bad way. I stepped away from Chris and held up my hands. I said, "This isn't what it looks like."

Chris shook his head, trying to hide his stupid grin, and he patted my back. He whispered like he didn't want Wade to hear, but I know he did, "Don't deny our love, Justin." He glanced at Wade and pointed between the two of us before adding, "Ours is a pure love."

I watched as Wade backed up a few steps and started to walk away. Chris draped his arm over my shoulder and hollered out to his retreating form, "What? Haven't you ever heard popstars confess their love for one another?" Chris clutched his chest and started to laugh. He saw my sullen expression and added, "Oh, c'mon. That was funny."

"Like I don't have enough on my mind without having to explain that I'm not trying to steal you away from Dani."

Chris rolled his eyes and replied, "Like that would happen, homophobe. You're too hairy to be my type, J."

I chuckled and noticed Spencer glaring in my direction. He had been doing that a lot lately and it actually made me like him a bit more. He wasn't an android after all. He apparently got angry and hated people too. Too bad for him Laney had come to expect that behavior out me but thought of him as perfect. I whispered to Chris, "Death daggers at nine o'clock."

Chris followed my line of vision and waved to Spencer. He said loudly, "Let's get you to that doctor's appointment." Chris fanned the air around us and said, "Please shower. Excessive showering would not be deemed inappropriate considering your present odor."

"Like you smell like flowers."

"I'm not the one…" Chris noticed Spencer watching us and replied loudly, "…with a doctor's appointment."

"Real smooth, Chris."

Lance appeared and said, "The limousine is going to be here in about fifteen minutes."

"I'm going. I'm going."

"It's stocked with everything you asked for."

I smiled and started walking across the floor of the arena. I replied, "Great."

"And he understands his instructions," Lance called out to me as I made my way to the backstage area.

I walked into the pseudo-dressing room and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with my hair that would allow me to blend in with the crowds long enough to get Laney into the limousine. And, for the record, I wasn't beyond picking her up and tossing her into the car against her will if she fought me too hard. I doubted she would want to draw attention to us anymore than I did which meant the only possible hindrance was my hair. At times like these, I wished I actually listened to my mother and cut my hair.

I hopped in the shower and tried to ignore the fact that my hand was shaking. In fifteen minutes I would be on my way to meet Laney Jane. I wished I could be positive that everything would work out or that one of the guys could make me believe that nothing could go wrong. But I wasn't so sure. Laney could be so damn stubborn sometimes and I didn't know how to get it through her thick skull that loving me didn't mean that her life was all about me. It was the opposite. It would be all about us-the two of us together.

I quickly got dressed and bumped right into Spencer. I winced at the memory of the last time he was anywhere near me. I smiled weakly and tried to go around him. He stood there, blocking my way, and said, "I know what you're trying to do, Justin."

Uh-oh. I turned around slowly to face him, ordering myself to keep a neutral expression. He was bluffing. He didn't know anything-like Laney's arrival time or flight number. HA! Even if he did know my plans, there was nothing he could do to stop it. This was his idea of a stupid game. He wanted to scare me away from my girl. The nerve of this guy. My smile became a little cockier, something I usually reserved for overzealous paparazzi, and replied innocently, "What do you mean?"

I watched Spencer's arms move from his sides and tried not to flinch. The guy had a mean right hook. He folded his arms slowly and said, "Look…" he paused to suck up all the oxygen in the room and I was suddenly standing in front of my fire-breathing father when I accidentally set the curtains on fire. Spencer glared at me and finally continued talking in this almost sinisterly calm voice, "…I understand the confusion of best friend/girlfriend. I wish…you're my boss, Justin. This puts me in a really bad situation, but I care about Laney."

I wasn't going to give anything away. It would work better for me if I played it cool, but I wasn't sure that was possible. He was talking about Laney Jane like I was insignificant and the only reason he was worried was because I was his boss, not because I was competition. I glanced at my watch and replied, "I have a doctor's appointment and then I have to get back here for more practice. Do you mind?"

"She told me she doesn't love you, Justin. Why can't you accept it?"

What did he-who the hell did he think he was? I put up with a lot of crap, mostly because I brought it on myself, and Laney would never forgive me for firing the goddamn pain in my ass…but he was trying my patience. This perfect freak knows Laney Jane for three months and thinks he can replace me? I reached around him for my bag and said, "Excuse me."

I walked out the door, slamming it behind me, and met the other's curious stares. I shrugged like it hadn't bothered me, like it hadn't dealt a heavy blow to the little confidence I had, and said, "Wish me luck, guys."

"You're going to do fine," Lance said. He nodded to where the limousine was waiting.

JC patted my back. He added, "I've watched the two of you together for a long time, J. It's about damn time you did something about it."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."

"Get that spitfire!" Joey said to me. He turned to JC and muttered, "…Because if he doesn't, he'll be intolerable."

JC hit him in the stomach and I said, "Look. If it doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to be, right? I'm a big boy. I can take it. I have to try."

I made my way out to the limousine and did a quick double-check of everything. This had to be perfect. Nothing could be left to chance. I glanced at my watch again and said, "Shit. I'm going to be late."

"Sir, do you know which gate she'll be at?"

I nodded and pulled a piece of paper out of my pocket with all the information. I took a few deep breaths, trying to harness my chi or whatever, and not think about how Laney was the most beautiful and amazing girl that I had ever known. How would I handle it if she turned me down? She wasn't going to. There was no way she wouldn't finally admit she loved me…but what if by some freak of nature, miniscule chance, she decided not to be with me? Then what? How could I ever see a movie again and who would I talk to when I needed someone to completely deflate my ego?

No, I couldn't think about that. It wasn't going to happen. I was going to get the girl. It would be no problem as long as I could be normal around Laney. That's all she wanted--to know that we were still Justin and Laney Jane, as normal as ever.

Oh please, Justin was never normal. If he suddenly started speaking with a practical mindset, I would drop dead from shock.

Nice.

Well, you weren't. All these girls truly believe that you're some exotic dream guy, a manly man, and they have no idea what you're really like.

I'm your dream guy though.

That remains to be seen.

Justin seems to think that a box of overdone sentiment changed my whole perspective on our relationship. He still doesn't get it.

I had very valid issues; most of those involved the fact that I had never thought about Justin like anything other than my friend. The truth is I barely gave him a second glance as my friend either-he was kinda there like an appendage or a wall.

That's it! A wall? You're comparing me to a wall? I call you the most beautiful and amazing girl that I knew and you refer to me as a wall?

Why are you interrupting me?

A WALL, LANEY JANE?

You take everything so personally. Jesus. This is what I get for being honest with a drama queen.

You're lucky I love you.

Yeah.

I mean it. A fucking wall.

How about you find a way to get over it while I continue with the story? Where was I?

There are certain things you never think about. You just know and accept them as fact. For example, I had my parents in my life. I never doubted that my conservative father or my crazy mother would be around whenever I needed them. I didn't acknowledge their importance to me on a daily basis or think about a time when they wouldn't be around because they were always there. Sometimes it annoyed the hell out of me and sometimes it was comforting. That's how I thought of Justin. I simply thought that he would always be there pestering me to see Julia Roberts' movies and doing bad impressions of Arnold Schwarzenegger. I guess I took that for granted.

It didn't mean I was ready to throw my arms around him and declare him the love of my life. Yes, I cared about him, maybe a little bit more than I realized, but he was so wrong for me in every way. First off, there was no mystery. It was Justin. I was never a huge romantic, but the minute you've used the bathroom after a guy (Justin in this case) stinks it up, there is nothing left to discover. Part of the fun in dating someone is unearthing the quirks and inner-workings of his mind. I didn't need that with Justin. For God's sake, I even knew to keep him from drinking more than one Dr. Pepper because he became flatulent. That's something a nineteen-year-old doesn't need to deal with…save that for when I'm eighty.

Second, his lifestyle was completely unsuitable. I have never been the jealous type-aside from wishing to have Britney's stomach for a day-and I didn't like the idea of becoming that neurotic type of a mess. No, it was better to stick with my pre-existing neurosis and leave the beautiful-blondes-flinging-themselves-at-your-boyfriend worries to someone else.

The idea of Justin and I as a couple was preposterous at best.

I made my way to the baggage claim and searched for my sister's familiar profile to no avail. She was late. I walked out the door into the warm Orlando air and smiled. One thing I would not miss about the Northeast was the weather. I plopped down on an empty bench and pulled a book out of my bookbag. I tried to get lost in the character, Kate's, independence kick since losing her boyfriend to the perky neighbor with big boobs, but my mind wouldn't allow my nerves to simmer down.

I hated the edgy feeling that had been springing from my chest like a character out of a bad rip-off of a Bob Fosse show. I shut the book when I imagined the box of junior mints falling from the sky and crushing Justin.

This was getting me nowhere.

What the hell was I going to do?

That's right. I was passed the angry stage and completely absorbed in the woe-is-me grief of my life. Justin had to ruin everything. I should've been excited to come home and finally have someone to see a movie with who would offer me more than, "yeah, it was okay, I guess." I really liked Spencer, but he sucked at the follow-through on movies. The best part of any movie was the discussion it initiated afterwards over a cup of coffee or basket of chicken fingers.

The big problem facing Justin and myself should have been whether or not to see Mission Impossible II or Pay It Forward…brawn or brains…Tom Cruise or Kevin Spacey (is there really a choice?)...bad or good. Instead, I was trying to figure out the best approach to banging common sense into Justin's sieve-like brain.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and, without glancing up, complained, "You're late as usual."

"Well, you know it takes me awhile to get my hair presentable for the public."

I froze. This was my over-active imagination at work. Yeah, that had to be it. I looked up to the sky expecting a box of candy to fall to the ground and crush Justin. After a few seconds, I blinked and stuttered out, "Oh…hi."

Justin's expression twisted into a perplexed grimace. He squeezed my shoulder and asked, "Laney Jane?"

I looked around, blinking a few more times, and it started to sink in that Justin was at Orlando International Airport. Justin was standing there, with a stupid bandana on his head as his disguise, and staring at me like I was the insane one. I frowned and said, "Jerk."

Justin smiled, "That's more like the Laney Jane I know and love."

I gulped at the word love. Why did he have to use the word love? He was quite addle-minded most of the time. I stood up, not wanting to give him the upperhand in the situation, but wishing there was somewhere I could hide. Justin flashed a huge grin and nodded towards a limousine. I glared at him, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister couldn't make it and she asked me to pick you up," Justin paused. He leaned in and whispered, "I didn't think you'd want me to explain to her that you were avoiding me because of strange urges to kiss me."

I shoved him back and growled, "That's the only urge I've been fighting the past few weeks." I looked around and said, "How could my sister do this to me?"

"Laney, you're drawing attention to us. If you want to fend off that group of cheerleaders waiting for their bus, fine by me, but I always thought-"

I folded my arms and stared at him. I gritted out through my teeth, "I don't like you very much right now."

"I've actually gotten used to that," Justin replied. He extended his hand for me to take it. I brushed past him and walked over to the limousine. Justin chuckled-he chuckled-and followed behind me. The driver came around and took my suitcases while Justin opened the door for us and slid inside. I stepped into the limousine and made sure to sit as far away from him as possible.

So much for being mature and handling this thing between us.

I kept my arms folded, more to avoid strangling Justin, and stared out the window. I sighed, "Oh well, once again normal is a hopeless cause."

"You put way too much importance on being normal, Laney Jane."

I scowled, "Hardly."

Justin chewed at his fingernail and replied, "I think you do."

"Well, that's because you're the most peculiar breed of idiot to walk the face of the earth," I babbled. I was pretty sure that line put an end to my hopes of using the nice method in dealing with Justin.

I glanced at him and his eyes were sparkling, almost a clear blue. My hands slid down to the leather upholstery and tightened around the edges. It emitted a squeak into the air and I quickly dried my hands off on my pant leg before resuming my original position. Justin slid down closer to me and I prayed that he couldn't hear my heart beating out Beethoven's Fifth. It looked like he was going to sit next to me, but he stopped a few feet away. He shook his head and said, "You're great for the ego, Laney."

"I try."

He reached under the seat of the limo and pulled out a small box. He reached under again and took something else out-a gift bag-but I couldn't make out what was inside. He handed them to me, "For you."

"What is this?"

"Happy Birthday."

"It's not until tomorrow-"

"Well, I wanted to take you out tomorrow but I don't get to leave Lakeland at all. It's a miracle I got out of there today."

I stared at the box and the gift bag. He prodded me, "Aren't you going to open it?"

I removed the tissue paper in the bag and pulled out a small box. I opened it and stared at it for a moment, "A gas card?"

"Yeah."

"You got me a gas card?"

"Yeah."

I hated when he got all tight-lipped. It was highly unbecoming. He couldn't shut up about Cindy Crawford or his newfound love for me, but he wasn't going to explain this. I held it up and asked, "Why the hell would you give me a gas card?"

"It's the gift that keeps on giving?" he offered.

"Um…no."

"Oh…wait. I know.  You're missing the other part of the gift.  It makes more sense with the rest of the gift."

"Okay…where is it?"

"All in good time, Laney Jane."

"You can't do that."

"Do what?"

"You are so mean!"

"What did I do?"

"I hate surprises and I have to be friends with a guy who loves to drag things out and drive me insane."

"Well, you love me."

I was immediately reminded of everything between us again. Love. I was going to have that word removed from the dictionary. I would take over a small country and my first order of business would be to ban the word from ever being uttered again. I tried to pretend like his words didn't register. He was trying to be clever and I was much smarter than he was. I wasn't going to get flustered. I opened the small box next and stared down at a cake. I read it, "Happy Birthday, Lenny? Who's Lenny?"

Justin sighed, "Yeah, it was supposed to say Laney, but apparently my handwriting is hard to read and I didn't notice it until I was on my way to meet you."

"Well…thanks."

"It's a pudding cake like the one you had for your twelfth birthday."

"Really? Wow. I didn't know they even made those anymore."

"They don't usually, but it sometimes helps to be Justin Timberlake."

"Oh lucky you."

"No, lucky you. It's your birthday cake after all," he said with a silly grin. He winked and added, "I promised Steph that I wouldn't sing to you. She thought it would piss you off and for once I agreed with her."

"You talked to Steph?"

"Well…uh…" Justin took the box and resealed it. He placed it on the console behind us and changed the subject, "Did you get the box I sent you?"

"What?" I replied, startled that he would bring this up. There went the pretend-it-didn't-happen idea as well. That left me with the Marlon Brando "Why Me?" line of attack. Lucky me.

"The box…I sent you a box of goodies."

"Yeah," I replied. I mentally tried to plan out the perfect response. This was Justin. I never had any trouble talking to him before. Why was my mouth choosing now to stop functioning properly? I busied myself with drawing figure eights across the seat.

"And?"

I kept focused on my fingers as they glided across the leather-snowflakes, circles, stars, hearts…okay, no more hearts. Hearts were not allowed, no hearts at all.

"Laney?"

I glanced up, "Hu-what?"

"What did you think of the box?" Justin said slowly.

My eyes widened when I imagined the big box of junior mints falling through the roof of the limousine, pinning Justin underneath and covering him in melting chocolate. I quickly covered my eyes with my hand and shook my head. I peeked out and saw Justin staring at me curiously, trying to hide his stupid smile.

"Laney, am I making you nervous?"

"Oh shut up!"

Justin pointed at me and replied triumphantly, "I am. I'm making you nervous." He moved a few inches closer and continued talking, "Now, why on earth would I make you nervous?"

I watched his hand move along the seat and I pointed out, "Just to warn you, J. Your hand is getting precariously close to mine."

"Is it?"

I nodded, "Yeah, and I'd have to break it if it gets much closer."

"Really?" he said with this dumb coyness that made me want to jump out of the car. Why was he doing this? And why was it bothering me? Why couldn't I laugh in his face?

Justin cleared his throat and got this far off aren't-I-darling look and I resisted the urge to beg him to stop. Bastard. His eyes fell on me, glistening crystal like the water in Hawaii, and he asked, "I'm wondering…if you didn't care about me, why would you be nervous?"

Oooh…he was good.

Stupid bastard.

I pulled at the fabric of my pants and shrugged ambiguously, "It's not you. It's the junior mints."

He did his infamous one-eyebrow arch and questioned, "The junior mints?"

I chewed on my lip, "Yeah, they fall from the sky."

Justin glanced around the limo and said, "What?"

"Nothing…forget it," I glanced out the window, but I could feel his eyes boring holes into my skull. He wasn't going to stop staring until I explained. Great. Now he would know that I dreamed about him. Oh great, it wasn't like that wouldn't encourage his insanity or anything. I rolled my eyes and stopped biting my lip long enough to respond, "…I had this…well…I pictured you being crushed to death by a box of junior mints."

Justin started to laugh, this annoying hoot, and he was clutching his stomach in hysterics. I glared at him and spoke loudly over his whoops, "…it's all your damn fault. That box, that damn box. I just…" I tried to think of a way to explain it without sounding more depraved then I was. I noticed he was still laughing and smacked him, "Would you stop laughing at me?"

Justin rubbed his arm and moaned, "What was that for?"

"You were put on this earth as some sort of a test, weren't you? Some sort of evil test. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're the antichrist…" my voice trailed off and I caught Justin staring intently at me. I played with a piece of my hair and diverted my eyes to the floor, "That box you sent me was just…it was some sort of trigger to a psychotic episode. I hope you're satisfied."

"A psychotic episode? So you liked it that much, huh?" Justin said, grinning smugly. (Note to the self-absorbed one: For future reference it might be good to remember that when throwing yourself at a girl's feet and attempting to secure her affections, you should momentarily lose the smugness.)

I shrugged again. He didn't need to know that despite the mental anguish, I had really loved the box. He most definitely didn't need to know that I kept smiling like some deranged fool and picking up the stupid pillowcase that wreaked of his stupid cologne. Nope. I'd be cool as a cucumber. I'd tell him it didn't affect me in the least and that he should get over this already so we could get back to normal. I replied, "It was nice." It was nice? What the hell was wrong with me? Was I possessed by Satan…or worse, cupid?

Justin's grin grew bigger and he said, "I bet Spencer never did something like that for you."

"Spencer doesn't have to. He doesn't make stupid pronouncements with no bearing on reality and then fumble to make amends."

"Spencer is boring and he'll never make you as happy as I can, Laney Jane."

In my head I pictured girls like Marisa around the world simultaneously saying "Aww" and clutching their chests. I squeezed the life out of my pant leg and tried to make my voice as even as possible, "I promise you that Spencer is not boring."

I felt the car come to a stop. I smiled in relief, "Looks like this conversation will have to hold…" My eyes wandered to the view. Trees. Just trees. I spun around, my hair flying in every direction, and demanded, "What the hell did you do?"

"I've been sitting here with you the whole time."

"This isn't funny, Justin."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Justin replied. He purposefully leaned over me to look out the window, forcing me to inhale his shampoo and notice how his gold chain clung to his neck and the hairs at the nape of his neck stood up…He lingered there for what felt like forever before falling back into his seat. He said, "It looks like the driver got lost."

I scowled, "Get him UNLOST."

"Unlost? Is that even a word? I know that yours is a limited vocabulary, but-"

I waved my fist in the air and said, "Do you really want to pursue the vocabulary argument right now?"

Justin pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and said, "I'm sure there's a perfectly goo-"

"JUSTIN!" I shrieked, unaware of when my voice had become so shrill and nasally.

"Calm down," Justin replied. He pushed the glass divider down. The driver wasn't there.

I pointed, "Where the hell is the driver?"

"Maybe he wanted to take in the scenery?"

"The scenery?" I scoffed. I shook my head, "You are a dead man, Timberlake. You did this."

"I didn't do…" Justin's voice trailed off when my fuming eyes locked on his face. He shrugged, "Okay. So I did this. The driver is going for a short walk while we talk."

"You bastard."

"But a cuddly bastard, right?"

"I hate you."

"I love you."

I shut my eyes against the words. I croaked out, "Please don't."

"Laney Jane, I love you."

I slunk down in my seat and tried to dissolve into the floor. Why couldn't a box of junior mints come and kill me? Was I really asking for too much?

Justin moved in even closer to me, leaving barely a few inches between us. I could feel his breath hitting my cheek. I glanced over at him and his eyes were directly in front of us, on the abandoned driver's seat. He sighed, "Don't get so pissed off about this that you don't hear me out, okay? Promise me that."

"Are you asking me not to be mad about being kidnapped?"

Justin rolled his eyes, "It's not kidnapping when your family helps me."

I shot up in my seat. I turned to face him, "You told my FAMILY? What is the MATTER WITH YOU?"

"Laney Jane, I'm sitting right here," he said, patting my leg. He noticed me stiffen and removed his hand, "Don't scream."

I raised my hand to my face and tried to calm myself down, but I couldn't sort through my thoughts fast enough. My brain was whizzing from Justin's overuse of the word "love" to the huge embarrassment of my family knowing to the lectures I'd get from my sister…wait…she knew? She was okay with this? When did that happen? I lifted my hand in a question and asked, "Exactly when did you and my sister become friends?"

"I'm not sure-"

"Because you're not smart enough to pull this off on your own."

"Hey, I resent that."

I continued, "…AND Dana called me to make sure I made my flight and…how the hell did you get Dana to help you? Does she know how you've come completely unglued?"

"I'm perfectly glued, thank you very much," Justin replied. He turned to face me so that there we were, sitting in a spacious limousine practically on top of each other, with our tense breathes smothering us, locked in a staring contest. He took a piece of my hair and wrapped it around his finger and let it go. He smiled at me and said, "I told your sister what she needed to hear to get her to help me-"

"Yeah, you're good at giving people what they want to hear. You've got it down to an art form, almost better than those pelvic thrusts," I said bitterly.

"Could you try to lose the hostility long enough to listen to me?" Justin countered in exasperation.

"I hate you."

"Yeah, you've said that…and Spencer is logical. I've heard that one too."

"Don't get pissed off with me. You're the one who is trying to change things."

"It's not like I'm asking you to have a sex change for Chrissakes. I'm in love with you, Melanie Jane, and I need to make you see that logical isn't always the right answer."

"Stop it. Just…I thought that I would come home and we could put this behind us. You had a momentary lapse of sound judgment, but since recognized the hideousness that would be us as a couple."

"I don't think so."

"Justin-"

"Hear me out, would you? You keep running from it, Laney."

"I heard it the first time. I heard it the second time through Spencer. I got the idea with the box. I don't need to hear this again," I snapped. The angry tone in my voice came out sharper than I expected. I wasn't really mad at Justin. Don't get me wrong; so not my favorite person on the planet, more like at the bottom of the list with the likes of Freddie Prinze Jr and Gwenyth Paltrow, the lisper, but it wasn't him I was angry with. I felt like I had to hold on to my resentment or I was likely to get caught up in some ridiculous thing that was all fantasy and hardly real.

Justin rubbed his eyes and I could see the bags under his eyes. I asked, "Are you getting any sleep at all?"

Justin smiled weakly, "We're at the twenty hours a day rehearsal drill right now. Once we're on the road, my schedule will ease up a bit."

"Are you ready for the show?"

Justin laughed, "No. We all keep banging into each other during Space Cowboy and Lance is having trouble dancing on the conveyor belts. He took out Reuben this morning."

I giggled and felt some of the anger and unease slip away. I smiled, "I can't wait to see the show. Sounds interesting."

"Right. Lots of dance moves made to keep our fans happy."

I nodded in understanding, "Girlfriends don't fall into that category, Justin."

"So."

"I'm trying to explain-"

He cut me off, "I can't please every fan all the time. Some of them want me dating Britney. Some of them want me dating Lance. Some of them want me single…some like my hair short, some like it now. I can't keep up with it, Laney Jane, and I'd go crazy trying."

"I know that but-"

"I have to do what's best for me and hope they can handle it."

"Justin, you couldn't even admit Britney was your girlfriend."

"That wasn't my doing. That was her choice…and in hindsight it was a good one," Justin replied. He pushed a piece of my hair back, sending these weird shots of shivers down my arms, and added, "…she and I were destined for failure and I think we both knew that deep-down all along."

I shook my head in disagreement and said, "That's not true. I saw the two of you together."

"Laney Jane, I'm sick of lying to myself."

"Justin, please don't do this," I replied. I reached for his hand, hoping that I could somehow pass along some of my common sense through touch, and asserted, "You don't mean this. You're going to regret it and I…can't we forget it? Fine. Maybe Britney isn't the girl for you, but it's not me. You're mixed up. We're buddies, best friends, and I date Spencer-regular guy-and you date beautiful supermodels like the one at the Oscars."

Justin rolled his eyes, "Nothing happened with Nicholette."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I saw the two of them together; further more, I saw how other people watched them. People saw them together and weren't concerned with the hows and wheres. It was acceptable. It was a couple of beautiful people who would one day have beautiful children and leave the rest of feeling slightly inadequate.

Justin put his hands on my shoulders and repeated, "Nothing happened with Nicholette."

"Fine."

"Do you believe me?"

"It's none of my business. I know you have a thing for blondes…"

"Brunettes actually," Justin's finger retook a strand of my hair and he went on, "One brunette in particular."

I smacked his hand away when I felt myself getting slightly woozy. I said, "Stop that."

Justin took a deep breath, leaving me clamoring for my own air. I put the window down and allowed the breeze to hit me in the face. I refused to look at Justin. This was so unnatural. I knew Justin was annoyed with me because he began to click his tongue. He always did that when he thought I was belittling his opinion on something.

Some things would never change.

I sat back down and asked, "Does this thing have a radio?"

Justin nodded. His eyes looked like they had become peas rather than the vast blue they were earlier and he reached for the cd controller. A familiar melody began to filter through the speakers and my mouth dropped. He really did remember everything.

"I know it's one of your favorite songs. I brought it in case you tried to kill me or something."

I beamed, "It's Kermit the Frog."

"Yes, your obsession with Rainbow Connection has been well documented throughout the ages," Justin replied with a smile. That smile. The perfect one that he rarely utilized and had suddenly left me paralyzed. Damn him.

"Laney, look. I probably should let this go…and you're right. I know my track record isn't the best, but…I don't know how neither of us noticed it before. I get it. We're both scared of losing our friendship and always liked to think we were…" Justin paused. He grabbed at his bandana, pulling it from his head and twisting it up in his hands. He blinked a few times and stammered out words, "I need you…well, I…I wanted to say…I need to get this out and then you can do whatever you want…"

He slammed his hand into the upholstery and the bandana fell to the ground. I had never seen Justin like this. He looked overwrought and taut. His limbs were tightened so that the blood vessels looked ready to pop and his gaze was fastened on a gum wrapper on the floor. He took another few deep breathes and said, "I love you…and not in a friendly way, although we are great friends. And it's not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way either, although I'm sure that's what you want to call it…"

My eyes remained locked on Justin. He was still concentrating on the gum wrapper and breathing like he was in Lamaze class. I felt my chest pounding and my mind was on overload. His words…where had I heard these words before…probably with one of his old girlfriends before he dumped her…

He kept talking, never even glimpsing in my direction, "…and it's not because I've always considered you as unattainable. I love you. Very simply, very truly. You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person…"

Wow. That was almost--I didn't know Justin had it in him to be so eloquent. Wow. I felt myself almost moved by it. Part of me was ready to say, "Fuck it all" and give it a go.

But he kept going, "…I know you think of me as a friend and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider. But I can't do this any longer. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are."

My face scrunched as the words started to register. I tried to interrupt, "Justin, this sounds kinda-"

He cut me off, "Laney, please. I need to get through this, okay? If I don't…just let me get through this…" He was still staring at that damn wrapper, but his hands were shaking and his voice was much softer. He continued, "…I know this will probably queer our friendship…but I had to say it, because I've never felt this before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me-"

It suddenly dawned on me why I thought it was so eloquent and where I had heard it before. I hit Justin on the back of the head and said, "You BASTARD."

"Ow…"

"You stupid bastard…I can't believe you…" I paused trying to get my anger under control before I killed him. Here I was softening up to him and he was-he was quoting a fucking movie. I yelled, "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize Ben Affleck's monologue from Chasing Amy? How many times have I seen the movie? I knew it sounded familiar."

"I was hoping you'd be so moved by the force with which I spoke the words that you would ignore-"

"That you're an unoriginal bastard who…" I felt the urge to cry and yell at the same time. This was all a joke to him. A way to pass time until the next best thing came along. He was putting me through hell, sending me on an emotional rollercoaster, for nothing. All this time, eight years of friendship, I had thought that I was different than the other girls. I was never deemed the beautiful girl in a room-I was average. Not a bad thing, just the way it was. I was always the nerd or class bookworm. That was how people saw me. And maybe on some level, part of the reason I paid so much attention to the way others reacted to Justin and me was because of how I noticed it. He had grown out of being a lanky dweeb and into a heartthrob while I had remained plain Laney Jane…when I was around Justin, all my plainness and nerdiness became heightened. But I dealt with it. I pushed it aside because he always treated me like he didn't see it and that our friendship didn't depend on those dumb things.

Suddenly none of that mattered anymore and I was like every other girl that he fed stupid lines to that he didn't mean. If I allowed myself to give into it, I would be like the rest of them too. Heartbroken and all alone. Fuck that.

I covered my face and demanded, "Get the chauffeur back in this limo now."

Justin's hand was on my arm. I didn't look but I felt the hairs on my arm burn my flesh with his touch. He replied, "Laney, I'm sorry. I was looking for a way to get out what I felt. I suck with words, you know that."

I shook my head. He wouldn't see me cry. I would not cry over him at all. If I kept telling myself that, I might believe it. I said, "Get him in the car, Justin."

"I needed to say that. I was watching the movie the other night when I couldn't sleep and it made sense. What Holden feels for Alyssa is exactly what I feel for you…and it came out much better than I could ever say without a song."

I glared at him, "Get the driver NOW."

I heard him open the door of the limo and slam it shut behind him. He reappeared a few seconds later and said, "I don't see him. He'll be back in a few minutes though."

"Great."

"Laney Jane, I do love you."

"Right. You love every girl you meet, Justin."

Justin ran his hands through his curls and leaned forward until his head was resting on his knees. He glanced at me with a worried look and said, "That's not true. I've never loved any of those girls because it's always been you."

"Oh please."

"Laney Jane, how can you…no, I won't say that because I didn't recognize it myself. We were both clueless to it all. God, I keep thinking that if only I realized everything sooner than you would believe me now. If I wasn't so confused about everything and lying to myself about who mattered most, I wouldn't have dated all those stupid girls. I would have seen what was right in front of my eyes-"

"Justin, would you please stop this?"

"Fine."

I looked over at him suspiciously. That was too easy. After all this, he was going to stop without a big scene? I watched him slide away from me to the other end of the limousine and it felt like he had moved to Siberia. Pain was radiating out of my skull faster than I could process and my chest felt like someone had been walking on it for an hour or so. I chewed at my lip and said, "So this is it?"

"You told me to stop. You fucking said, 'Stop it'," Justin replied angrily. He ran his hands down the length of his jeans and glanced up at me. He shook his head, "You know what. I'm trying here. I'm trying to be completely honest with you and you're still giving me the same load of crap you always have, Laney Jane. This is all about your insecurities, and I'm not trying to make them seem unimportant, but I can't do a damn thing about them until you let me."

My mouth gaped open in shock. In the history of our friendship, despite all the arguments we used to have on an hourly basis, he had never spoken with so much resentment. His eyes were a murky blue-unreadable and shallow-as he continued to talk, "I love you. I love you more than anything. Part of me wishes I didn't because then everything would be fine between us, but another part of me…I know you don't believe in this stuff, but isn't it enough that I do? I believe in happy endings and soulmates-"

"Justin, do you hear yourself? This isn't some movie-"

"I know that. I know it's not as easy as finding your soulmate and then everything is fine. That's only the beginning, Laney. It's like that Bruce Willis movie-"

"So help me god if you pull out your Die Hard metaphor for life right now…"

He smiled, "No. I already used that this month."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," he replied. He moved back a little bit closer, making the gap between us seem more like the Atlantic Ocean rather than the world, and said, "It's the one with Michelle Pfeiffer."

"Oh, that crappy movie about their love life?"

"Yeah. It was crappy because it was true. Everyone goes through that. It's like you find this perfect mate for you and you think the hard part is over, but it's real life and they aren't perfect. The girl has to be completely stubborn-"

"And the guy has to be completely unoriginal and treat her like every other girl he's been with in the past."

"Maybe that's because when he tried to be himself, the girl ran off and swore that she hated his guts. So he was trying to think of a way to get everything out in the open before she married Mr. Perfect."

I crossed my arms, "Well, who introduced her to Mr. Perfect in the first place?"

"The guy's ex-girlfriend who hoped that would solve their own problems…of course, it was at the guy's request because otherwise he'd have to deal with the fact that the girl of his dreams wasn't his girlfriend, but the girl who saved him from a brutal embarrassment on the playground when they were eleven."

I forced myself to focus on the outside. I shook my head and said, "I don't remember that part of the movie."

We both heard a door and the chauffeur glanced back at us, "Are we ready to go?"

Justin stared at me for a moment. I know he wanted me to tell him to leave us stranded a little bit longer, but this was too overwhelming. I needed to think this out. I needed to act logically. I needed to keep my head on straight and not fall for all of this bullshit. I would act like my father. Why? Why do you love me? Why do you know this is right? Why are you such a moron?

Justin nodded to the driver and we watched in silence as the glass divider went back up. Justin sighed out my name in exasperation, "Laney…"

I smiled weakly, hoping that after all this stuff settled down, we'd be able to be friends again. I said, "J, this is too much."

"I'll leave you alone. I won't bother you anymore."

I pretended like the words didn't sting and said, "I don't hate you or anything. I'm-this isn't us. Why are you-"

"It could be us," Justin replied firmly. He sighed, "Well maybe not the declarations and stuff, but I didn't know how else to get you to really hear me. I figured once you accepted our fate, we could get back to normal."

"Justin, you say that now. I know you. You get antsy. I know you really believe that you love me, but that won't last. You'll get bored, notice the next girl, and then our friendship is ruined."

Justin moved closer to me…so close that I could inhale that stupid cologne that was messing up my head. He ran his fingers through my hair and said, "Laney Jane, after all this time, do you really think I'm going to get bored with you? You keep me on me feet. I love our relationship."

"So do I."

"I'm trying to make it better."

"It's fine the way it is."

"No, it's unhealthy. Neither of us can ever have a real relationship while we've got each other. It's not fair to the other people in our lives and…" Justin started to laugh. He threw his hands up in the air, "I sound like Britney."

"She was good for you."

"She's a good friend, yes, but that's it."

"You two didn't kiss like friends," I noted.

Justin rolled his eyes, "It's easy to fake that part. It's harder to actually make the other stuff work."

"I don't believe that. It's the other part that's easy," I replied. I glanced at him and added, "Besides, it's perverse to think that I could compete with all the women you'll meet that want you, Justin."

"What?" he asked as if he didn't hear me.

"You heard me. I can't compete with the groupies and the models."

"You want to know what's…" Justin stared at me with a frown. He replied, "What's perverse is how little you think of me, Laney Jane."

"All I'm saying is that we don't belong together," I countered. Justin was still frowning and I asked, "Fine. Why are you so convinced that I am better for you than Nicholette or any other German goddess?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. How can you be so sure that I'm what you want?" I questioned. I wanted to hear this, if only in a masochistic, self-loathing kind of way.

"You haven't lost that quality that you've had since we were kids."

"What quality?"

"I can't explain it," he answered with trepidation.

"Well, try," I said urgently.

"You haven't been scarred yet, Laney Jane," he said. He chewed at the collar of his shirt and spit it out before going on, "You like to think that you're a fatalist or a complete pragmatist, but you're not quite there yet."

"I am too."

"No, because you're still kind of wholesome," Justin replied.

I stared at him for a moment waiting for a smirk or some other sign that he was kidding around or trying to get a rise from me. My god. He was serious. He thought I was wholesome. I said, "And that makes me better than-"

"That makes you better than anyone. I wish I could've held on to that positive outlook on things."

"Justin, what are you talking about? You're a total optimist. You're the one who thinks everything will work out in the end. You're the one who holds on to it all-hopefulness and anticipation of things to come. I'm not like that."

Justin looked like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped. He shrugged and said, "Whatever you say."

"What was that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"We are so different, J."

Justin leaned forward. For a minute, I thought he was going to kiss me on the lips, but he settled for my forehead. He pushed my hair out of my eyes and said, "I think, as Julianne said in My Best Friend's Wedding, '…you and I were a wrong fit right from the start.' It fits us somehow."

"Hardly the foundation of a lasting relationship."

"If you say so."

"Since when?" I asked. I watched him carefully, noticing how nervous he seemed, and it reinforced my fears. This wasn't us. I offered a small smile, "You usually disagree with everything I say."

"Well, I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of worrying about your reaction and fighting this wall you have up. I told your sister and myself that I would accept whatever decision you made. I would give it a go and try my best, but that it was all up to you. I didn't want to look back when I was older and think about the girl I let get away because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You know I hate those types of movies…the what if movies. I believe in finding what you want and going for it. I want to be like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty."

"He died at the end, Justin."

"Sure, but who killed him? It was the guy that never accepted anything about who he was. It was the guy who was so afraid of himself and his own feelings."

"Are you comparing me to Ricky's dad?"

Justin shook his head, "I didn't say that. I'm saying that I don't want to be that. Lester might have died, but look at all he accomplished in a year. He got in shape, he quit a job he hated, and he was starting to like himself again. Who doesn't want to be that at peace with themselves when it's their time to go?"

"Okay, who are you and where did you put my friend, I-didn't-get-the-end Timberlake?"

"For the last time, I never said I didn't get it. I said I didn't like it."

"And you've completely changed your mind now?"

"Nah…but I think I've realized a few things about myself since then," Justin replied. He sighed, "But whatever."

"Whatever," I repeated.

Justin picked up his bandana off the floor and started to reaffix it to his head. He didn't look at me as he spoke, "I'm giving up, Laney Jane. Don't worry. I won't bother you anymore. My mind is now focused on my tour." He chuckled softly and added, "I really didn't think that if you heard me out you would say no. I thought that once you had time to absorb it all, it would make as much sense to you as it does to me. I guess I don't know you as well as I thought after all."

The limousine came to a stop and the driver opened the door on my side. I saw my house and glanced back at Justin. I could stay in the limousine. For once, I could leave my practical side behind and give the carefree spirit way a try.

I slid out of the seat and said, "Good luck with the tour in case I don't see you beforehand."

"Thanks."

"J, I'm-"

"It doesn't matter, Laney. It's over," he said.

The driver shut the door as I stepped away from the curb. I waited for the chauffeur to remove my bags from the back. I turned when the window went down. Justin smiled at me and said, "You forgot your birthday gift and cake."

I stepped off the curb and took the box and bag from his hands. I noticed how my hands were lingering there and I stepped back quickly. I said, "Thanks again."

"No problem."

"I still don't get the gas card."

He laughed momentarily before making his face expressionless. "Give it time." He rubbed his eyes and added, "I'm glad you thought the box was nice."

I said, "I loved the box."

This was where Justin usually got an ego the size of Mars, but his face remained neutral, "Well, I'm glad you loved the box. Take care of yourself, Laney Jane."

Before I could say anything else the window went back up and the driver handed me my bags. I started to walk up the driveway and pretended not to notice the limousine drive off down the street.

I lost my grip on the cake and it fell to the ground, splattering my pant leg with chocolate. I lost my balance and landed on top of my suitcase with a thud. I yelped and ran my fingers through the creamy mess. I muttered, "Happy Birthday to me. So glad to be home."

The door opened and my sister called out, "Everything okay, Laney?"

"Could you help me with my bags?" I said quietly, too soft for me. I was never this pathetic. It wasn't time to start now.

Dana came down the driveway and looked at the mess I created. She knelt down next to me and said, "Man, you're such a klutz sometimes."

"The cake is ruined."

"Don't worry about it," she replied. Dana picked up one of my suitcases and asked, "How did things go with Justin?"

"I hate him and I hate you for helping him."

"That well?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Laney, I helped him because-"

I glared at her, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine," she replied. She threw the strap of my bag over her shoulder and started walking. She stopped abruptly and said, "Spencer called about your plans for later and there's a box in the living room for you. I'll leave your bag in your room."

I nodded as I gathered the rest of my luggage and waddled up to the house. I dropped my bags in the hall, in my head hearing my father holler, "Don't leave your crap in the hall!" I walked into the living room and saw the big box sitting on the table.

I glanced at the bag in my hand. I unwrapped the box and pulled out maps. I held up a map of Kentucky and muttered, "What the hell is this?"

I jumped when Dana said, "There's a note underneath the box."

"You scared me."

She held up a paper towel, "Sorry. I was on my way out to clean up the cake. Are you sure you-"

"Dana, I know you mean well, but not right now," I said. I love my sister but she could be so annoying when she was on a therapy roll and, from the look on her face, she was about to start.

She waved the paper towel and stepped outside. I lifted the box and found a card with Justin's scrawling sitting on the table.

Laney,

So I'm not sure how things stand with us right now. The best I can do is hope for the best. Either way, I wanted you to have this. By now you've probably cursed me for getting you a gas card and maps, but I figured they're necessary items for anyone who plans a road trip across the country. I've seen the world and now it's your turn. I think you'll appreciate it more than I do, but please, no picking up random hitchhikers…and remember how things turned out in that Kurt Russell movie Breakdown. So don't let truckers anywhere near you either…oh and avoid greasy rest stop diners unless you have a bottle of Pepto Bismo with you.

Love ya,

J

I smiled and turned around. I saw my sister standing there. She pointed at me, "You do love him. Oh gross."

"Dana, I don't know-"

"You might be able to fool that bleach-blond moron you're friends with, but I'm much smarter than he is. You love him."

"Do I need to point out that I have a boyfriend?"

"Laney, are you-" Dana stopped midsentence. She looked at my luggage and said, "You better get your crap upstairs before mom and dad get home."

I dropped the note and said, "That's all you have to say to me?"

"Is there something else I should say? You said you don't want to talk about," she replied, walking up the stairs.

I ran out into the foyer and called up the stairs, "That's right. I don't want to talk about it. In fact, there is nothing to talk about. I'm completely fine. I'm not the one who has snapped. Everyone should be more concerned with Justin's well-being and leave me alone!"

I slid down against the wall and stretched out on the steps. Justin's dramatic flair was apparently contagious because I quickly found myself caught up in the why-me-god-why blues. I closed my eyes, trying to forget the look on Justin's face when he told me to take care of myself. I think I broke my best friend.

There was a word for girls like me. Bitches.

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Chapter Twenty

nsync stories