Chapter Twenty

I was dumped.

Tossed. Ditched. Chucked. Flung aside. Trashed like sour milk.

God, I was sour milk.

Justin Timberlake: Sour Milk Extraordinaire.

Laney Jane thought of me like a curdled mixture she discovered in her refrigerator way past its expiration date.

What the hell was I going to do now? I hadn't accounted for not getting the girl. I expected to be lip-locked with the woman of my dreams while we telepathically worked out a way to break the happy news to Spencer. So what now? I could play sad songs and weep, but somehow I feared Chris might come after me--Christ, how was I going to face the guys again? This was depressing. I could kill myself, but people paid large amounts of money to see me sing and dance around on a stage in a few days. I had obligations. I had a life.

I had a life without Laney Jane. Sure, it wasn't one I particularly liked or was very familiar with, but with time, I might not seem like the broken man I appeared at the moment.

She dumped me.

Okay, maybe dumped wasn't the right word since technically we were never a couple, but that's how I felt. No, I felt worse. It was like every dumping I had ever experienced in my life had culminated this afternoon in one horrible instant as Laney Jane looked at me with those dark, sad eyes and said, "I don't hate you." I don't hate you? Gee, thanks Laney. I appreciate that.

It touches my heart to know that while I had fallen madly in love with her--the depths of which I was only beginning to realize--she didn't hate me. I tried to be the bigger man, the proud, calm and collected male that never permits his hurt or anger to show. It was harder than I thought because it took every bit of self-control that I possessed to keep from grabbing her and kissing her until she finally saw the light. Or, at the very least, I could have hollered at her. I just said "I give up" like a loser, like I bet Spencer would do. How fucking noble of me!

This wasn't right. Laney was supposed to be here with me right now. She was supposed to say that she loved me too. That this was the stupidest thing she had ever done, but she trusted me not to hurt her or ruin our friendship.

Fuck, I was dumped.

The car came to a stop in front of the arena. I stepped out, handing the driver a nice tip. After all, it wasn't his fault things didn't work out like they were meant to. He had done everything I asked him to do. He had pulled the car over, made himself scarce, and given me time to try to reach Laney. He allowed me the opportunity to pour my heart out and have it ripped to shreds in front of my face…but I stayed cool. And for the first time in the history of my friendship with the girl, I finally got the last word in. I made my point. I was the brave, cool one and she was Ricky's dad from American Beauty.

I didn't feel very cool at the moment though. I felt like Freddy Krueger, Michael Meyers, and Jason Voorhees had taken turns slicing me up into little pieces that would never fit back together again.

God, Laney was right about one thing. I was too dramatic for my own good. If she were here right now, she'd have her arms firmly planted on her hips, her lips and eyebrows arched in a stern expression, and would say, "Stop acting so dramatic, J. It's not the end of the world." I always hated her for calling me dramatic. It implied that I was faking, that I shouldn't be taken seriously, that I was hysterical. I hated the word dramatic; it was like some Shakespearean death scene.

I contemplated making a Laney voodoo doll as I opened the doors of the arena, but I really didn't want anything bad to happen to her. She was still my best friend, the person who rescued me from Kenny Whitman on the playground and spared me from being known as Daisy Timberlake for the rest of my days. Okay, so I was entitled to hate her breathing guts or at the very least dislike her a lot. Laney managed to make me feel three inches tall, trivialized our entire friendship with her stupid insecurities about my ability to be faithful, and then walked away without a second thought. Women-more accurately, Laney Jane-were evil. No one would blame me for it, right?

I was pulled out of my why-Laney-was-mean thoughts when I nearly banged into a prop for our stage. Random crewmembers were running around and clearing a path for me as I passed by. I noticed Spencer at the end of the hallway and ducked into a dressing room. This was pathetic, even for me.

"Where's your partner in crime? Is she looking for Spencer?"

I spun around so fast that my bag fell on my foot. I hopped around in pain and scowled, "Shouldn't you be on stage rehearsing?"

Chris shook his head. I noticed he was dressed in his outfit for "Just Got Paid." The pants were too small, the metal teeth in the zipper barely hanging on, and the shirt fit him like it was made for the fat kid from Stand By Me. Chris held up his hands in derision, pulling at the loose green fabric of his shirt, and explained, "We stopped to do final alterations on the clothes."

"Looks like you need it," I pointed out with an amused smile.

Chris pushed me out of the way and inspected himself in the mirror. He turned around, peering over his shoulder at his image, and pulled at the pants. He glanced at me as he continued pulling at the fabric and said, "These pants are giving me a wedgie."

"I think that has to do with the fact that you're wearing JC's pants."

Chris pushed me again and hollered, "Megan! These pants make my ass appear the size of a satellite dish...or like Joey's!"

Megan's haggard voice echoed in from the hall, "Take them off and put a note with it. I've got to help JC with his shirt. The beads are stuck in his hair."

I groaned and said, "Sounds like I'm going to have some fun with my clothes. Just what I need this afternoon."

I was nearly knocked out when the adjoining door swung open. Joey appeared in his boxers and threw a shirt at Chris, which landed on his head. He said, "I heard that little comment about my ass."

"So?"

"So your ass looks big because you've become a regular at the Old Country Buffet," Joey countered.

Chris untangled himself from the shirt and threw it right back at Joey. He said, "I've been carbing up."

"If you say so Miss Piggy..." Joey replied. He glanced at me and asked, "How'd it go, man?"

"Great," I muttered as I took a seat on the old couch. It was velvet, bright red with mahogany wood, and looked and smelled like it was a throw back to a seventies porno (not that I ever watched one or anything). There were matching throw pillows with beaded tassels that could take out an eye. I fingered the wood drawing the dust and continued, "...if you consider being told 'I don't hate you, Justin, but...'" I attempted to lie down on the sofa, but something kept jabbing into my back. It was probably the knife Laney Jane had stuck there. I reached under the cushions and pulled a high heel out.

Joey and I stared at Chris who shrugged, "Dani brought me lunch."

"I bet she did," Joey replied with a wink. He yawned and then focused on me with this encouraging smile that made me want to puke. He said, "I bet she wanted to talk to Spencer before she chose you. Ya know, let him down easy."

"No, she didn't," I answered as calmly as I could muster without beating him up.

"Well, maybe she's--"

"She's not doing anything, Joey. It's over," I replied shortly, wishing I could go home, open up a six-pack, and wallow in the privacy of my own home. I didn't want to be exposed to Joey's optimistic nature at the moment. Life sucked, shit happened, and Laney wasn't mine.

I noticed Joey and Chris exchanging pitiful opinions of me through psychic connections or facial expressions. Joey smiled at me again and said, "Sorry, J. It's a total bummer, man."

I sat up straight, batting the tassels of the pillows back and forth, and replied, "It's not a bummer. Losing my wallet would be a bummer. Forgetting the steps to 'No Strings Attached' would be a bummer. This is a fucking disaster. I'm stuck girlfriendless, while Spencer O'Grady, Mr. Perfect and Normal, will be bringing Laney Jane around on tour. Fuck him...and fuck her too!"

"Okaaaay then," Joey said. He patted his stomach and said, "I need to finish trying on my clothes."

Chris walked over to the door and looked up and down Joey's practically naked form. Chris started to push the door closed and called out, "Wearing pants would be a good start. Don't want to scar small children!" Chris shut the door and removed his shirt, "I actually think the young girls might like it, but it was scarring me."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever."

Chris sat down next to me on the sofa, his face scrunched up for some reason, and he asked, "What exactly happened besides you getting pissed off?"

"I think I'm allowed to be pissed off."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's what I said," I said. I stretched back, tossing the pillow aside, and began to pick at the peeling paint on the wall. I knew Chris was waiting for a reply, but I wasn't sure what there was to say. I was still trying to process it all. Laney Jane didn't love me. I was a loser.

Chris mimicked my form and tone, "Is that what you said?"

"Yes."

Chris hit me on the head with a pillow, "Well, Justin, this may be the stupidest conversation I've ever had."

I stood up. I went over to the door by the hall and searched for any signs of Spencer. He was still standing out there while he talked on his cellphone. He was probably chatting with Laney and going over their totally wonderful plans for the evening. I hated Spencer. I could think of a million things that were less disgusting than Spencer. I could create a list…the things much less horrible than Spencer list. I'd get it published. It'd become a national best seller and include such fine examples as getting athlete's foot, circumcision, and eating someone else's boogers. All of these were much less horrible than Spencer.

I slammed the door shut and moaned, "She dumped me."

Chris stared at me without blinking for a few seconds. He watched me pace his floor in shock and said, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah, me either."

"Justin, there has to be some sort of explanation," he replied. It looked like Chris was having a harder time than I was accepting the latest developments in my love life. And I understood his reaction. What happened was completely unbelievable and went against life as I knew it.

I would've loved to sit there and assure him that, under the laws of the universe and world of a celebrity who doesn't get told no, it was impossible that a nice girl like Laney Jane dumped a great guy like me. And that, since this was so fucking impossible, I must have been hallucinating or having a nightmare from which I would wake up soon.

Chris stood up and began to pace the floor next to me. He said, "No, you didn't stick with the plan. Did you scare her somehow? Did you sing Whitney Houston? I told you that was a bad idea. Repeat after me, Justin. Bad idea."

"Shut up!"

"I'm saying that if you, in fact, pulled out fucking Whitney Houston that might have-"

"I didn't sing Whitney Houston!"

Chris stared at me skeptically before punching my arm lightly. He said, "The two of you belong together, J."

"You're wrong," I said. I moved across the floor of his dressing room in two quick strides and hovered by the door.

"I'm not wrong. I'm never wrong," Chris replied indignantly. He crossed his arms, looking ridiculous standing there bare-chested and wearing tight pants. He shook his head and added, "Wrong…I don't think so. I've seen the two of you together. I've had to witness it first hand for years."

I peaked out the door and down the hall. Spencer was gone and replaced by JC and Lance. JC raised his thumb to me and I ignored him. I leaned my forehead against the doorframe and muttered, "I think it's time for rehearsal."

"We can still get you-"

"It's too much, okay? Maybe Laney Jane is right. Maybe she and I are both too messed up to make a relationship work. She's a chicken and I'm an idiot."

"Nonsense!"

The pitch of Chris's voice startled me. I tried to act like it didn't. The new me, the dumped me, was going to start playing it cool. I leaned over--rather coolly if I say so myself--and picked my bag up off the floor. I swung it over my shoulder and said, "I need to get back into my sweats and probably do some wardrobe fittings for Megan."

"Justin, are you seriously giving her up?"

I didn't answer at first. I actually thought about that for a moment. Was I giving Laney Jane up? Did I really want to lose my best friend in this whole thing? My head moved unconsciously and I sighed, "Yeah, I think I am." I caught Chris's disappointed gaze and continued, "I promised Dana that I would accept whatever decision Laney made. I can't force the girl to love me. I have to accept it."

"And you're pissed off," Chris added as I stepped out into the hallway. I avoided JC and Lance's eyes and started to walk away. Chris called out, "And suffering from a bad case of wounded pride."

I turned around quickly and asked sharply, "What was that?"

"Close the door."

I started to close the door and leave, but Chris grabbed my arm, yanked me back into his dressing room, and shut the door behind us. He smacked me on the back of the head and said, "I meant with you inside, stupid."

"Chris, I'm not in the mood for some pep-"

"You're hoping Laney comes to you, huh?"

"No," I replied honestly. I really wasn't. I mean if I thought she would come to me, sure I'd save myself some embarrassment, but Laney wasn't going to do that. I was dumped.

"Well, I know she loves you, J. It's obvious and if her sister offered to help you, it means I'm not the only one who sees it."

"Someone should tell that to Laney Jane then," I complained, playing with the strap on my bag.

"So you're angry and trying to make her suffer right now?"

"No. I don't want her to suffer," I began. I met his dubious expression and shrugged, "I don't…well, I do love her, ya know? If you love someone you shouldn't want to hurt them-"

"What kind of fucked up relationship are you trying to have? Of course, you hurt the people you love. It's a God-given right that comes with monogamy and putting up with snoring," Chris said. He rummaged through his own bag for something, tossing sneakers and jeans all over the floor. He finally pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece into his mouth. He stretched out his arm for me to take a piece but I waved him off. He went on between chews, "…the thing is…when you really care about someone…there is bound to be hurt feelings-"

"It's never happened between Laney and me before."

"Things were different before."

"Maybe they shouldn't be. We didn't fight like this when we were friends."

"Right."

"And maybe I do want to hurt her. I've spent my whole life lying to the girls I dated, even Britney--especially Britney. I kept the real stuff back. I never let those girls become too important to me or depended on them for my survival. I wanted to, but I never did. Not like Laney. I've always trusted her. She knows the truth about everything; she knows me. And it's because I loved her--and what do I get? I get a big fucking spiel about how I'm confused and she belongs with Spencer!"

"Did you tell her this?"

"No way."

Chris shook his head. He had his sermon-face on and I was expecting a long-winded talk about what I needed to do. Instead he motioned to the door and said, "I need to get changed."

Huh? Wasn't he going to tell me to fight for Laney again? Wasn't he going to explain to me that I was acting like a selfish jerk that refused to see Laney's confusion in all this? I knew it would be hard for her. I knew she didn't buy into true love or want to appear needy…and I pushed. I pushed her to make a decision that she wasn't ready to make. This was my own doing.

Chris spit out his gum in a trashcan and said, "You never know, J. What's it they say…if you love something let it go, if it comes back it's yours. Maybe that applies here?"

"Great."

"If it's any consolation, Spencer's a big geek. I think I made fun of his twin when I was in high school."

I smiled weakly, "Thanks Chris."

"And he's got a misplaced nose. It doesn't fit right on his head."

I nodded in agreement and mentally added two new items to my list. Ingrown toenails and dirty diapers were now on the much less horrible than Spencer list.

"It'll get easier, kid," he said, speaking from experience or a strange twenty-something wisdom I had yet to obtain.

"Yeah."

I walked back out into the hall and made my way to my dressing room. I saw a pile of clothes sitting there for me to try on. I sat down in a chair across from the wardrobe rack. I stared it down and tried to imagine hanging myself with the clothes.

Too over-the-top.

I glanced around the room and there it was.

My guitar.

It was propped up against the bathroom door, untouched since rehearsals started six weeks ago.

That was what I could do. I would show Laney how much she hurt me, how she had her chance and she blew it. A song, to serenade her with. Hell, it worked for Alanis Morissette. If I included a few "fuck you's" and shared some more of my less horrible than Spencer list-nuclear waste and cesspools-it could be a real release. I might even be able to make a fortune off this heartbreak.

I ignored the clothes demanding my attention and turned on my CD player. Elvis Costello, a gift from Laney to expand my horizons, crooned to me for inspiration and my fingers strummed my guitar.

I imagined standing on our huge stage before This I Promise You. I would steal Reuben's guitar, interrupt JC's planned monologue, and get everyone's attention. I'd announce, "This is a little number that I wrote about a girl I know. I girl I like to call Laney Jane. A girl who took my heart, ripped it from my chest, and stomped all over it. And yet, I love her very much."

I played a few different chords and started to sing out possible verses:

"There was a movie that we saw…

About the girl of his dreams

If loving you breaks some law,

Then by all means-convict me."

Yeah. Even my seven-year-old fans would see that for the crap it was. I decided to go edgier, more hardcore--like Warrant or Poison.

"Every Laney has a heart made of glass

She won't give you a second look as you go past

She breaks your heart

Right from the start

That goddamn bitch runs you over with a shopping cart!"

That was worse than an Aaron Carter song and he was a preteen, which provided him with an excuse for writing bad music. Maybe I needed to think country--the woman breaks my heart and I think longingly on our past together.

"There ain't no other girl for me

If you let me give your heart a twirl, you'll see

At the movies or on the dance floor of heaven

C'mon baby, let's get a slushie from 7/11…"

I liked it. It had raw emotion. It quoted one of her favorite movies loosely. It spoke of unreturned love and devotion. So I sang it louder, strumming my guitar, and performing for my imaginary audience:

"No girl…there ain't no other girl for me

If you let me give your heart a twirl, you'll see (oh, you'll see)

At the movie or on the dance floor of heaven (heeeaaaveeen)

C'mon baby (oh baaaby), let's get a slushie from 7/11…"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I was pulled from the end of what would one day be a classic love song. I saw Chris and Joey standing in the doorway. Chris whispered something to Joey and Joey departed down the hall. Chris stepped into the room and grabbed the guitar from my grasp. I tried to hold on to it, but Chris was strong when he wanted to be.

"What the hell is wrong with you? We heard horrible moaning and thought something was crushing your spine."

"I'm writing a song."

"That's mighty brave of you to call that a song."

"It'll be dope when I'm finished," I replied, trying to maneuver around Chris and get to my guitar. I had a rock hit to finish.

Chris put his hands on my shoulder and shook me lightly, "You need to get a grip. You're scaring me here."

"I'm fine," I replied, yanking on the guitar.

Chris pulled it back and chucked it on the sofa. He shook his head, "This is pitiful, Justin. Look at you."

"Okay, so maybe this isn't-"

"You're moaning out really bad limericks in a small, confined space. That's it. You've left me no choice," Chris paused. He pushed me in front of a the mirror and said, "Repeat after me. I am a man."

I tried to get away but he held me in place. I rolled my eyes, "I won't."

"Say it, Justin, or I'll tell everyone about the night with the two groupies and how you couldn't-"

"I AM A MAN," I said loudly to shut him up.

"Women everywhere adore me."

Was he serious about his? I felt like I was listening to one of Tony Robbins' audiotapes on how to succeed at life. I muttered, "Women everywhere adore me."

"I can get laid whenever I want to."

"I can get laid whenever I want to."

"But only after I stop writing crap."

I laughed and then repeated, "But only after I stop writing crap."

Chris slapped me on the back, "Good. Get dressed. The rest of us would like at least three hours sleep tonight and you're holding up the schedule."

"Sorry."

Chris shrugged. He picked up the guitar and added, "Yeah, and if you try writing anymore shit, I'm going to ram this guitar up your ass."

"Got it."

"It'll work itself out, Justin."

"I guess so."

"It takes time," he said shutting the door.

I pulled out my track pants and changed into my grungy old clothes. All the while I kept telling myself that Chris was right. Everything would work itself out. I had to convince myself that Laney Jane was right all along. Some friendships weren't meant to last. She and I had a nice run--eight years of movies and silly arguments. I guess I couldn't complain.

Justin picks now to decide that I'm right about something? Doesn't that figure? It probably speaks volumes for the lack of sanity in our relationship. It also proves we will never be those people who can read each other's minds and exchange knowing glances from across a crowded football field.

While Justin was getting in touch with his musical idiocy, I was trying to prepare myself for an evening with Spencer. He had called to make sure we were still on for that night and I wasn't about to provide anyone with further ammo for Justin--not that I thought he would try anything. He was pretty convincing when he said he was giving up.

Not that I cared...or could care at the moment. I felt so drained that the only coherent thought I had was "must sleep." But I decided that the best way for me to maintain the pretense that Justin had not affected me in the least was by resuming my normal life--minus Justin of course--and going to dinner with Spencer. Too bad I couldn't tell that to my stomach which hadn't settled down since Justin had smirked at me and said, "Am I making you nervous, Laney Jane?"

Why was this happening and why was I so upset? Since he had become the Justin Timberlake, I had been mentally preparing myself for the conclusion of our co-existing lives. And while I might have momentarily hurt his feelings, yielding to his flights of fancy would most likely end in pain for me. So this was what I wanted. I didn't want Justin acting like some lovesick idiot around me. I didn't want to deal with those feelings or think about us like that.

There was a knock on my bedroom door. I grabbed the remote for my stereo, turning the volume down right in the middle of Tori's chorus, and opened my door. Steph was standing there with this weird look on her face. She smiled and glided past me.

"So...your sister mentioned that Justin--"

My sister, Ms. Big Mouth. I snapped, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I think it's a cool gift."

Oh right. The gift. The perfect gift. The stupid perfect gift right after I squashed him like a bug. I was a great friend. Bitch, bitch, bitch…that was more appropriate. I moved over to my closet and said, "Well, yeah. It was nice enough."

"I'm guessing this means you won't be working with me this summer?"

"I don't know."

Steph kicked at a pile of magazines on my floor, perusing her choices, and asked, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean that I still need to get my mother and father to accept the notion of me in a car going cross-country by myself. And sure, I've got my savings, but maybe I should save it? If I think about this logically, it might be wise--"

"If you think about it logically, you'll never go."

I winced at the tone Steph used, but her face appeared ordinary. No signs of a lecture anywhere. I sighed, "That's not true. I would wait until--"

"Until a better time? There will always be some practical reason to avoid going, Laney. Justin has provided you with free gas for the entire summer and maps out the wazoo. You've got a car. You've got the funding. I'm sure you'll be able to get your parents to okay it if you try and I can probably join you for a bit."

"How about the whole summer?"

"I thought this was about you and the open road? Besides, I've got the coolest job lined up, so..."

"What is this mystery job you're so excited about anyway?" I asked as I pulled out different clothes and threw them on my floor. I pulled out my plain black dress and asked, "What do you think of this?"

"Isn't that the dress you wore to your grandfather's funeral?" Steph asked as she picked up a copy of GQ magazine with Edward Norton on the cover and fell on to my bed.

"Yeah."

She flipped through a few pages carelessly and answered, "'Nuff said."

"Well, I feel like it's a funeral," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"I said that's a fair point," I attempted to cover rather badly as I tossed the dress into the growing pile of not bloody likelys. I pulled out a flowered dress my mother insisted on purchasing and commented, "I could dress up like Anne of Green Gables and have a real good time."

Steph dropped the magazine on my floor and sat up, "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Spencer has insisted on turning this birthday dinner into some big deal because of recent stuff..."

"What stuff?"

I shrugged, "Nothing."

"It can't be nothing if Spencer is trying to--"

I cut her off, "Justin told me he was in love with me."

"Uh-huh."

"I said that Justin, my best friend, declared his undying devotion for me quite out of the blue and you're..." I paused when I saw the look on her face. I banged my head against my closet door and added, "So how long have you known?"

"Well, the last few years I've wondered when the two of you would--"

"There is no two of us. We are separate people."

"If you say so, Melanie Jane," Steph replied with a shrug. She stood up and walked over to the closet. She immediately pulled out a long black skirt and red shirt. She held it up and handed it to me, "There ya go...and wear your hair up."

"How did you do that?"

"I'm gifted...so you told Spencer?"

"No."

"Then why--"

"Justin told Spencer," I replied. I noticed the grin on Steph's face and I glared at her, "Or did you know that too?"

"I don't like what you're implying, Melanie Jane. This is all news to me. I've always had my thoughts on the subject, but--"

"But?"

Steph folded her arms and asked, "Are you sure that Spencer is the right guy for you?"

"What?" I replied. This was one of my good friends standing in front of me, right? It wasn't some pea-pod person that looked like Steph? I moved around her staunch form and flung my outfit of choice over my changing screen. I stepped behind it and said, "I thought you and my sister worshipped the ground he walked on."

"And that should tell you something right there."

I peaked my head out, "Huh?"

"When have you ever liked the guys that I've dated--"

"Well, you date some--"

"And while you're friendly with your sister's boyfriend, you've repeatedly said that he's not the type of guy you saw yourself with--remember when Dana tried to set you up with his brother?"

"That was different."

"Spencer fits wonderfully with our taste in guys. He's perfect, which by your standards, equals dull and depressing."

I stepped out from behind my changing screen and pulled my top further down to cover my belly. I frowned, "Spencer is not dull and depressing. He's really smart and funny and he's got this cool accent and he's sweet and--"

"And boring?"

"NOT boring."

"Whatever you say."

"He's quite UNBORING."

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't think he was boring before."

"I still don't. He's perfect by my standards, but perfection can be fleeting ya know."

"Not really. In fact, I rarely know what you're talking about," I answered. I pulled a hair clip out of my drawer and fumbled with my grasp on my hair. I held it up and frowned at myself in the mirror. I turned to Steph, needing to know what she was talking about. I asked, "So what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. You'll do what you want."

"You think I should date Justin? You, of all people, think I should get it on with my best friend?"

"Well, you've got to admit the boy is pretty sexy when you're overly-hormonal, especially that picture inside the CD when he's all brooding and…" Steph's voice trailed off and she fanned herself before continuing, "…but this is about you. You should do what you want."

"What I want is to go out to dinner with Spencer and maintain some normalcy in my life."

"If that were the case, you'd be going to see a movie with Justin. Didn't Fight Club come out?"

"What's your point?"

"Weren't you both looking forward to that movie?"

I shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll find someone else to see it with."

"Sure."

I slammed my clip on my bureau. It cracked-like I was about to. I was so sick of everyone confusing the hell out of me. First Justin, then Spencer, then Justin again, then Dana, and now Steph. I was beginning to wonder if this was a conspiracy to make me crazy. I questioned, "What the hell does that mean?"

"What?"

"Steph-"

"Melanie Jane, you're in a foul mood right now."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Me too. Could it be that Justin isn't the only one with romantic inclinations for his best friend?"

"Steph, if you're about to declare your love for me, it's going to have to wait. Spencer's going to be here any minute," I answered derisively.

"Touché."

I grabbed another clip and put my hair up haphazardly. I wanted to push Steph out the door, hide underneath my comforter, blast "Winter" by Tori Amos, and never leave my bedroom. I sighed, "Once I see Spencer everything will be fine. I'll remember why I liked him in the first place."

"Because he's logical?"

"Shut up."

I heard the doorbell and Steph commented, "Prince Charming has arrived."

I glanced at myself in the mirror and muttered, "I hope he's not wasting his money on some elaborate thing…and don't mention Justin's gift okay? The last thing I need to deal with tonight is Spencer's competitive nature."

"Like I would meddle."

I ignored her and hurried downstairs before my father asked Spencer about his thoughts on the economy or my mother got a full genealogy of his family. He was dressed in a pair of dark dress pants and shirt with his spiky locks moussed into mortal weapons. He was dressed like we were heading to Wall Street rather than dinner. He smiled at me and I tried to return the smile. I tried to act like the last few times we had talked it hadn't been awkward and frustrating.

I smiled and said, "I hope I'm not underdressed, I don't-"

My mother came to the edge of the steps, like she had been waiting all her life to do this and was so happy to find out I wasn't a lesbian. She pushed my loose strands of hair behind my ears and whispered, "Sweetheart, this is why I try to buy you dresses."

I suppressed the groan rising from my throat and nodded. There was something about being dressed up that always made me feel dainty and demure. Not exactly things I was known for or enjoyed for that matter. I hopped down the last step and asked, "Are you ready to get outta here?"

Spencer nodded and he shook my father's hand. I noticed the look on my father's face. He could read people in five seconds and I knew that he had immediately classified Spencer as too-good-to-be-true. His eyebrows were arched ever so slightly; his eyes became more remote, and the line of his mouth more cynical.

I grabbed Spencer's arm and led him out the door to his car. I was a firm believer that a person's car offered the most accurate glimpse into his or her lifestyle. Spencer's car did not bode well for our relationship. For starters, Spencer drove a black Wrangler, not my ideal vehicle. It was freshly washed and waxed, emitting that faint trippy scent that makes a person giggle if she's exposed to it for too long. He held open the door for me and I slid in. It was immaculate. There was no deluge of empty Lime Gatorade bottles cluttering the floor like in Justin's car and no papers or books scattered across the back seat like mine. He had one sticker-Mean People Suck (Yeah, you can be the judge of that one) with two peace signs that served as bookends-and, the final nail in his car coffin, an I-LOVE-JESUS deodorizer swung from the rear-view mirror and mixed a faint fruit smell with the wax.

Spencer had this whole other personality that I wasn't familiar with. If he had approached me in his car the first time we met, I would have blown him off. The worst part of it was that he really was Steph's type…preppy, rich, and would one day make a wonderful yuppie. What did that say about me or my taste in men?

I forced myself to ignore it. It didn't mean anything. It could've been much worse. There didn't appear to be any bloodstains from his recent human sacrifices and no clutter of stuffed animals or shotglasses.

Oh, I needed to shut up. I was being crazy. I was upset with Justin and I couldn't allow myself to take it out on Spencer. Spencer was the good guy. He wasn't pressuring me with insane demands, making ludicrous declarations, or turning my stomach into a never-ending gymnastics competition.

"You look really beautiful, Laney."

I smiled at him sweetly, "Thanks."

"I hope you like your birthday gift. I tried really hard to figure out what you would like."

"I'm sure I'll love it. Don't worry so much," I replied as my fingers messed around with the deodorizer.

He noticed my apprehension and said, "My cousin mailed it to me. I don't know where he finds half the shit he does."

"It's definitely…interesting."

"It tends to freak people out."

"I can't imagine why," I commented. I glanced out the window unsure of what else to say. Why did Spencer have to make this so damn formal? I hated this sort of situation. I never knew how to act and I always ended up with half the food on my lap.

Spencer stopped at a light and turned to face me. He brushed back loose strands of hair from my face--the same piece of hair that my mother had fussed over and that Justin had wrapped around his fingers in a mesmerizing movement hours before-and said, "You shouldn't hide your eyes."

I was suddenly on a date with my mother. God help me.

I spent the rest of the trip analyzing every small thing he did, every word out of his mouth, and how he spoke. Steph's words were on repeat play in my head. I told myself to let it go, to forget about it, but it was impossible. Spencer was perfect for her and Dana. Ew. Gross to the plug-my-ears-and-sing-fa-la-la extreme. Steph had possibly the weirdest taste in men that I had ever known and my sister was practically married to her boyfriend. I was too young for that type of commitment. I couldn't even make up my mind about my favorite color. How would I know about something like love?

God, I needed Justin. He would nudge me in the side and tell me to get a grip. He would try to make some movie reference that didn't apply (when I got stood up for the first time in high school, Justin compared me to Steve Martin's character in Roxanne. I spent the next few weeks paranoid about the size of my nose, but it could've been worse. He could've made a reference to the Elephant Man) and we'd both end up laughing at possible future scenarios for me that involved twenty cats and the Hallmark Shoebox lady's hairdo.

I covered my face with my hands, praying I could pressure my head to stop thinking about Justin at all. But it was impossible. For years I had gone long periods of time without giving the boy a second thought. Three weeks of being inundated with crap and suddenly he was invading my whole life.

Dammit, I swore that would never happen. I would never become that star-obsessed clingy creature. And I definitely wouldn't start while I was out with Spencer, my boyfriend.

"Ha. I'm not thinking about it," I said aloud. I caught Spencer glance at me from the corner of his eyes with a curious look. I immediately focused on the passing scenery and said, "Wow. Look at that sign."

"It's the McDonald's golden arches, Laney."

I leaned my head against the window, breathing out a mist on the glass, and fumbled for words, "Oh…right…well, I knew that. I think it looks mighty classy at night and stuff…"

I tried to convince myself that I was overreacting. I needed to calm down and think clearly. Everything with Justin, this desire for me to get in touch with my inner self, was making me doubt my choices. I couldn't let that happen. I would not be swayed by the beast of confusion.

When we reached the restaurant, some fancy place that served ala Carte, Spencer parked the car and came around to help me out. This was too date-like for me and I separated myself from him and walked ahead.

"Laney, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He stared at me and said, "Okay, I'll go check on our reservation. Wait here for a minute."

I took a seat in the waiting area on a furry plush couch. I tapped my foot as I took in the swanky décor with its interesting tapestries running from the ceiling to the floor and classic movie-star motif. Spencer sat down next to me and patted my leg, "It'll be about fifteen minutes."

I nodded, "Cool."

"Laney, are you sure that you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Look. I want this to be a fun night for us and you look about as happy as an incarcerated felon," Spencer replied. His eyes roamed over my face and I glanced away. I didn't want him seeing the confusion I was feeling. Not that I thought he would. It wasn't like he was Justin…not that Justin could read me either…not that I was even thinking about Justin.

I started humming the tune of "Everyday" by Buddy Holly. That song always got stuck in my head when I was trying to remember how to conjugate verbs in French so maybe it would work for thoughts of Justin. Yes. Every time my mind wandered towards him, I would instead sing Buddy Holly.

It seemed perfectly logical and sane at the time.

"You seem nervous for some reason."

"Am I making you nervous, Laney?" Justin's voice repeated in my head and, despite shutting my eyes, I still saw Justin's silly grin, furrowed brow, and sparkling eyes. I hummed louder, "Everyday it's a getting closer…going faster than a rollercoaster…love like yours will surely come my way…everyday it's a getting faster, everyone said go ahead and ask her, love like yours will surely come my way…"

I forced myself to look at Spencer and I smiled as I replied, "Don't be silly." I paused and swatted at him playfully, like I was possessed by a character portrayed by Tori Spelling. I giggled, "I'm not nervous. I channel all my energy into positive thoughts…" I tapped my head and went on, "Learned that in yoga…so don't you worry about me. I'm fine. Having tons of fun, but I'm not used to this type of atmosphere."

"Well, get used to it because you deserve it."

He didn't utilize the cheesy angle, did he? Spencer…he was supposed to be my wonderful discovery, the first normal, funny, intelligent guy that I dated seriously. The guy I hoped for when I saw Justin and Britney laughing and acting all couple-like. Maybe it wasn't fair to put that kind of expectation on him or our relationship, but oh well, too bad.

Oops. Thought of Justin again. I mumbled under my breath, "…everyday seems a little longer…every way loves a little stronger…" I noticed Spencer waiting for a response to his little compliment of sorts. I tried to hide my discomfort and said, "Thank you?"

He chuckled, "Do you want to go to the bar and get a drink while we wait?"

I nodded and took his hand as we made our way through the crowded restaurant. Spencer pulled out a bar stool for me and I hopped up. He glided easily on to his own seat and waved down a bartender. He didn't even ask what I wanted as he ordered two glasses of wine.

I cleared my throat, "I'm not sure I should-"

"I promise that red wine is not as hard on the stomach as a martini."

"Thank god. That is a situation I never want to repeat. Poor Justin. I banged on his door in the middle of the night singing Cher…" my voice trailed off and I laughed, "…God only knows what was running through his…"

"That's really interesting."

It didn't take a genius to see the pissed off expression on Spencer's face. I shrugged, "Sorry."

"Let's not think about that stuff."

"Okay," I replied while I silently wished him good luck. So far I had mentally gone through my entire Buddy Holly's Greatest Hits CD. I picked up my wine glass and gulped it down. I motioned to the bartender before he disappeared and said, "Refill that for me. Thanks."

"Laney, slow down."

"Yeah. Good plan," I replied. The bartender filled my glass and went to leave. I grabbed his hand and motioned in Spencer's direction. I whispered, "Why don't you leave the bottle?"

The bartender nodded and left the bottle. I was never a fan of Chablis, but it was definitely an acquired taste. By the time we were seated for dinner, Spencer and I had finished off the bottle with an eight to one ratio in my favor. I half-expected the bartender to slip me an Alcoholic's Anonymous card. I glanced at the menu and looked at Spencer. I said, "Do they have salad?"

"Since when do you eat salad?"

"Well, I'm not a big fan of the beef product and duck makes me think of Justin and…fuck…can you say fuck at a posh place like this? Anyway, sorry. I said his name again, didn't I? Dammit. I really need to work on that…along with my sudden bout of vulgarities…"

Spencer interrupted me, "Laney, how about I order us both salads to start and the herbal chicken for our main course?"

"Sounds like it will be in a sauce of some sort," I replied in distaste.

"Probably."

"I don't do sauce."

"It's a-"

I repeated in exasperation, hoping the server would get here soon so he could get us more wine, "I don't do sauce. It's like you don't know me at all."

"Okay, no sauce. I'll make sure they exclude the sauce and maybe ask Congress to outlaw its existence."

I rolled my eyes, "Excuse me for having culinary preferences."

Spencer snapped my menu from my hands and put them on the table. He folded his hands like he was praying for guidance and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Laney, I might not be an expert on your food quirks yet, but it's obvious that something is bothering you."

"It's obvious that my glass is still empty. I'm parched."

"Right," he answered simply and he hailed down a busboy and asked for two glasses of water. He then focused back on me like he was trying to understand how my mind worked. "So?"

"So what?"

"Is this about Justin?"

"I thought we weren't talking about any of that. No Justin. Sing Buddy Holly. It hasn't worked for me, but you seem to be much more disciplined than I am."

Before he could reply our server appeared and Spencer ordered for us. He lowered his voice when instructing the waiter to bring the salads quickly as if he was my chaperone rather than my boyfriend. I played along, rolling my eyes and sipping on my water.

Once the waiter was gone, Spencer fumbled with his dinner jacket. I watched him curiously and he pulled out a small box. He pushed it across the table and the only sound I could manage was a whispery, "oh Christ." Probably not the response he was looking for. I picked it up carefully and smiled at Spencer.

"Happy Birthday."

"You didn't have to do this…"

"I wasn't sure what to get you. Originally I had planned to have Justin help me, but…well, you know what happened with that…"

I nodded and questioned, "Why would you ask Justin for help?"

"He knows you better than anyone. I knew if he helped me pick out your gift that you would love it."

I nodded again and played with the ribbon on the box. I pulled it undone and glanced at Spencer nervously. Underneath the wrapping was a small velvet box and I opened it up. It was a gold locket. It was very beautiful, probably expensive, and completely not my style. I mustered up the biggest smile I could, trying really hard not to hurt his feelings. I had already been the bitch once today. I didn't want to get a reputation. I twirled the chain around in my hands and said, "It's a necklace."

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure if you preferred silver or gold, but my assistant swears that gold goes with everything."

"Thank you," I answered. I knew it wasn't fair to think it, but I wanted to add that he was probably right. If Justin had helped him, I would've liked the gift more. Justin always bought me gifts that embraced who I was, never something that made me feel like I had to change or act like something I wasn't.

"Do you want to put it on?"

I hesitated and I saw the hurt in Spencer's eyes. Bitch, bitch, bitch once again. I couldn't do anything right anymore. I sighed and said, "I'm afraid I'll lose it or ruin it. I'm not good with jewelry."

"So you don't like it?"

"I didn't say that."

"What did Justin get you?"

I glanced longingly at my empty wine glass and then at my empty plate. At the moment, I would give anything for something else to focus on. I picked up the Lenox saltshaker and said, "This is nifty."

Spencer put his hand on mine and lowered it back to the table. He asked again, "What did Justin get you? I know he disappeared today and from the way you're acting tonight I have no doubt where he was."

I shrugged, "It's not a big deal."

"So tell me."

"What does it matter?"

"I don't know. You tell me, Laney," Spencer answered as he released his hold on my hand. He scratched at his stubble and laughed callously, "Jesus, I'm turning into the type of guy I hate. I've never been the jealous type and I don't want to start now, Laney."

"So don't be jealous."

Spencer stretched back in his seat and swallowed down his own water. He studied my face and smiled tenderly, "I wish it were that simple."

"It is."

"Not when Justin is all-consuming of your thoughts and you can't tell me he's not. You told the bartender that you once saw Justin drink a bottle of Peach Schnapps on a dare. Then you turned to the women next to you and pointed out that Justin once dated a girl who wore faux fur like she did. Do I need to mention the small child humming 'Bye, Bye, Bye' that you explained Justin's love of Julia Roberts too?"

"I was making conversation," I replied defensively.

"Are you going to tell me what he got you? Something about a movie, right?"

My head was starting to throb and I felt a bit queasy. I really didn't have much tolerance for alcohol. It probably would've helped to eat before downing the wine so quickly. Why do things always make much more sense in hindsight? I gripped the end of the table and snapped, "Are we going to have the same fight we've been having on the phone the past few weeks? I lost my best friend today and I'd rather spare myself the psychological scarring of a public skirmish with you."

"You did see him then?"

"Why are you asking questions you know the answers to? Yes, I saw Justin. He showed up at the airport. I either went with him or was trampled to death by teenies trying to get their hands on him. He threatened to sit with me on the bench and he really would have too. He never mulls anything over for very long. Justin has an impulse and goes with it. Doesn't care how things turn out or what he messes up."

Spencer rubbed his eyes and said, "Laney, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Justin. Shit, I really need to stop doing that, don't I?" I paused and pointed my finger at myself in a reproachful manner. I scolded, "Don't say the J-word, Laney."

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned towards me. I heard his feet shuffling along the wooden floor as he whispered, "Are you in love with him?"

"That's the question of the day. How the hell should I know? Everyone keeps bombarding me with feelings. I hate feelings…" I said in aggravation. My eyes wandered around the restaurant and I added, "…and I really wish I could get some more wine right about now."

"Are you planning to drink yourself into a stupor?"

I smirked, "Maybe."

"Laney, do yourself a favor and admit you love him."

I noticed our server and waved him over. He glanced at me with a knowing look, like lots of girlfriends freak out when they receive small velvet boxes and request some sort of calming potion. I said, "Can you get us another bottle of the Chablis…or whatever you have. Make it red, bitter, and alcoholic. You pick."

Spencer nodded when the guy shot him a doubtful glance. Spencer asked, "Are we going to act like this is the way you normally conduct yourself?"

I rested my elbows on the table and covered my face. I was being ridiculous and obnoxious. This wasn't Spencer's fault and I couldn't blame Justin either. I was an emotional basketcase for no good reason. Okay, so I was an emotional basketcase because somewhere between Justin's declarations of love a few weeks ago and tonight, I started to think anomalous thoughts about my best friend and it freaked me out. It ate at me knowing that I was too scared to do anything but date Mr. Reasonable, AKA Spencer. It didn't help that Spencer was a great guy either. I didn't want to hurt him. I cared about him which might have lead to love someday way down the line with enough alcoholic consumption. I sighed and forced a sereneness I didn't feel, "I think I'm having a nervous breakdown."

"And you hate the necklace?"

I peaked out at Spencer through my fingers and nodded, "And I hate the necklace…well, I don't hate it. It's not me."

Spencer blinked at me a few times and then started to laugh. His laughter grew louder with each passing second and I watched him in bewilderment. He clutched his stomach practically cackling in my face and I responded, "Okay…I thought I was the inebriated one."

"I walked into a really bizarre situation here. Allie would call it poetic justice."

"Huh?" I said. He brought up his best friend and I had a hunch that he was going to share some parable with me. I hated parables almost as much as I hated feelings.

The waiter appeared with another bottle of wine. He popped the cork and filled our glasses. I chugged it down and quickly refilled my glass. I stared at Spencer expectantly. He took a sip from his own wine glass and said, "Remember when I told you how Allie and I broke up but remained best friends?"

"Yes, truly an inspirational story. Too bad it doesn't apply here."

Spencer's eyes bore through me and I shivered under the intensity. I shut my eyes as some sort of deterrent, but it didn't work. I kept seeing his eyes and they slowly melted into Justin's eyes and the sheer pain in those eyes when I let him drive away. God, why did I let Justin drive away like that?

"I broke up with her."

"So?"

"I still regret it. I see her with her new boyfriend, Kyle-wondering what kind of name Kyle is anyway…"

"Or Kylie. How about Marta? I hate that stupid name," I extended my hand out like I was greeting someone and took on a fake French accent, "Hello dahling, I'm Mahta. Stupid idiot was from Iowa not Paris."

"Terrible, terrible names," Spencer said with a smile as he finished off his glass of wine.

I nodded and said, "She was a real bitch too…and I can't forget her wardrobe that consisted of leggings in twenty different colors. LEGGINGS!" I paused as I stirred the last few drops in my glass and allowed them to slide down my throat. I added, "Justin wants the real reason why he and I could never date…he dated a girl who wore hot pink leggings out in public."

Spencer scrunched his face up in disgust, "That is terrible, but I can top it. Kyle does bad impressions. Whenever he and Allie have a party, he starts doing his impression of John Wayne that sounds more like John Tesh. Have I mentioned that?"

I giggled and filled both of our glasses up with more wine. I shook my head and held up my hand, "No. I can top that. He dated a girl for three days that called him every five minutes and he would have to say 'no Meggy. I love you, Meggy. I really, really love you.' And she called him sweetpea. Is sweetpea really a turn-on for guys?"

Spencer nearly spit up his drink and said, "I don't think so, but I'm not Justin."

"Right. He's one of a kind."

Spencer stared at me for a long time and it felt almost normal, like it had when we first started spending time together. When it was okay to laugh about things and not feel so depressed and unsure of everything. I smiled and released my hold on his gaze. I tapped my fingers on the table and said, "Those are the girls Justin likes to date."

"He seems to want to date you now."

I shrugged, "He's reached the bottom of the barrel?"

"I think he stopped looking forward and saw who was next to him the whole time."

My tapping got louder and more constant. I decided it was best to get off the topic of the problems with our friends' romantic choices. It was weird to realize how many things about Justin's girlfriends irritated me that I never paid attention to before. Now it was all I could think about from Marta's hideous leggings to the way Kylie ended every sentence with, "Like ohmigod."

I turned my head and demanded, "So, continue your little story that eerily shadows my current predicament." I wasn't sure why I wanted to hear it. It wasn't the ideal conversation to have with your boyfriend on your birthday-talks of regret and nostalgia involving past significant others-but I never did anything correctly. For a smart girl, I really was incredibly dense when it came to matters of the heart. I wore blinders, so scared of myself and those insipid sentiments inflating my chest like a balloon that I did horrible things and became bitch, bitch, bitch girl all the time.

"There's really not much to say. I had plans that didn't include her. We were seniors in high school and I was going to Harvard in the fall. I grew up watching all the rich kids in my neighborhood drive around in their new cars and drop cash like it didn't matter. I wanted to have that. I wanted to make sure that I made something out of my life. But Allie didn't care about that stuff. She never thought reasonably about anything and she constantly nagged me to be more spontaneous. I had a strategy for how to succeed and dating a girl that had no direction or even a clue about what she planned to do with her life wasn't a good idea; it wasn't logical. You know how it is. You're in this new world and while you love the comforts of who you were, it doesn't mesh with who you want to be."

I hated when Spencer spoke in riddles. He used long-winded jargon to talk around a topic…just like me. I sighed, "But you're both still friends."

"No thanks to me…by the time I realized what I had, she wasn't there anymore. Well, not the way she used to be. I used to have Allie's full attention, now Kyle is there. And the kicker? The girl who couldn't be bothered with school or worrying about her future is applying to law school and getting married. She laughs about my unpredictable lifestyle now. Talk about irony."

"You didn't tell me she was getting married."

"Well, you've been kind of preoccupied with this whole ordeal."

"Jesus Spence."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not a guy who gets caught up in the whims of compunction, and Allie and I most likely wouldn't have worked out anyway. But I want that. I've done the plans and the logic and I'm still alone. Now, I want to have someone that I can speak in code with and be completely honest with."

He felt alone. I wasn't an expert on dating, but I was pretty sure that didn't speak highly of my girlfriend abilities. I reached across the table and took his hand, "I'm sorry, Spence. I keep messing everything up for everyone. I really suck."

"It doesn't help that idiots are putting pressure on you to make decisions or feel things you don't."

"I'm not sure-"

"Laney, I always knew why Britney broke up with Justin, but I refused to accept it. She warned me. She told me I was fighting a losing battle with you."

"Not this conversation. Not again and not with you," I moaned. I pushed my empty plate aside and laid my head on the table. Hardly appropriate behavior for an upscale eatery, but I didn't care anymore. I was numb to the world around me, stuck in some cocoon of emotions that was suffocating me. I chewed on my lip and offered Spencer a bleary-eyed stare. I said, "It would never work between Justin and me. We're too different."

"Well, you and I are a lot alike and look how wonderfully this evening is going."

"I'm tired."

"You're in love with Justin, but you're too stubborn to admit it."

"No, I'm not."

"Laney, you might be able to fool Justin, but you can't kid a kidder."

"Oh please. If you start comparing my plight to that of you and Allie, I'm gonna throw up on the table," I snapped.

"Not my style."

"Spencer, I need…Justin sprung a lot of crap on me the past few weeks. I haven't had time to process it all and-"

"In a few weeks, you'll want him and I'll be even more attached to you. Not the ideal situation for me."

I replied, "That's not true. In a few weeks, I'll be ready to put this behind me. I've always known that Justin was from a different world. We were an unlikely pairing when we were twelve and it's even more obvious now. Like you said earlier. I'm in college and I've got my whole future ahead of me. I've got priorities and none of them include a life in the public eye. Justin has always known what he wants and how to get it, even if it meant disappointing his fans or not caring what people think of him. I'm not like that. I'm trying to figure it out without creating any waves. If I dated Justin, it would make waves. The Nsync fan base would have a bounty on my head and people would want my picture and I'd have to…it's not what I want to deal with right now."

"That's a lie. If Justin weren't one of your priorities, I wouldn't be battling him for your attention. And it's not only tonight either. Every time we talk, you bring him up."

"So? I bring up Matt Damon all the time and no one seems worried that I'll run off to Vegas and elope with him."

"You're being silly now."

"Me? Silly? I thought I was logical. Everyone makes a big deal out of it. Laney is logical. Laney has no imagination. It drives me crazy. I like to entertain silly notions sometimes, but there is a time and place for it. Messing up my friendship with Justin for that one out of a hundred chance that we would work out is not smart. It's inane."

"Maybe we should take a break, Laney."

My head shot up and I said, "Don't do that. I'm sorry I keep bringing him up, but it's just…I'm not going to date Justin."

"Fine. But you don't want to date me either."

I shrugged. I needed to take Spencer's hand and make some sort of gesture, but I didn't have it in me. It wasn't there with him. Where was the cynic that I always prided myself on being? I needed to be the girl who believed practicality won out over everything else. The problem was that common sense didn't make my heart rumble in its proximity or my hands tingle with energy, not like with…

Shit. Buddy Holly was useless.

I lifted my glass up to take a sip and tried not to think about that. Spencer was perfect, funny, intelligent, and a one in a million catch. I would be incredibly doltish to let him slip away. I replied, "That's not true."

"Okay, I didn't word that right. You want to date me, but for the wrong reasons. I won't be your-"

"My Rice-A-Roni?"

"What?"

"Rice-A-Roni…it was the quintessential seventies game show consolation prize," I replied. I poured myself another glass of wine and said, "It's in Broken Hearts Club."

"You and your movies."

"It's a hobby."

"It's insane."

"Are you trying to bait me into a fight?"

"No. I just don't like movies."

He didn't like movies? What kind of human being didn't like movies and how did I not know this? How could I date a guy who didn't like movies? What else was there to do on a rainy Sunday? I couldn't help but feel bad for all the wonderful arguments and discussions he was missing out on. Then I realized I was a pretty big loser and shook my head, "It's a personal thing, I guess."

"I don't know. I'll never understand those fights you had on the phone with Justin about Rocky Five and why it's much better than number four."

"Because Rocky Five takes him home. He goes back to his roots and who he was in the first one. All the glam is gone and it's about Rocky, Adrienne, and his kid-played wonderfully by Sage Stallone-and how they survive. It's about knowing who you can count on and who to invest your time in. Plus, he still gets to kick some ass at the end, once again proving that the little guy can overcome anything when he's right," I leaned in closer to Spencer, fiddling with my place setting. I continued, "Justin thinks number four is great because it's the ultimate guy fantasy. To go up against the unbeatable, the improbable that kills your best friend, and walk away victorious. Justin neglects the fact that the Russian pretty much beats the last of Rocky's brains out of his head and leaves him unable to do what he loves anymore. If Rocky played it safe, he wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Spencer stared at me and I felt my cheeks flush, "You were being hypothetical and I'm a big loser."

"You're not a loser, but I never put that much thought into that stuff."

"I always have."

"Did you ever think that without Rocky Four the whole premise to number five was shot?"

"What?"

"You talk about how four leaves Rocky unable to do what he loves and that if he played it safe everything would be fine. Number four sets the storyline for the last one. It's like finding out who you are without your job. Some people walk away from their careers and realize they're nothing else. Then there are some people who die only being known for their profession, never seeing what else is out there, never taking chances. Rocky didn't play it safe, and even though he lost his boxing career sooner than he probably wanted, he wasn't miserable."

"Uh-huh."

"It could've been worse."

I stared at him in shock and asked, "What do you mean?"

"There could've been no one to share it with."

My glass broke in my hand. I hadn't realized I was holding on to it let alone how tightly I was grasping it. I glanced down at the little pieces of crystal on my arm and the drips of blood from my hand. I didn't even feel any pain. I mumbled, "Shit."

Spencer hopped out of his chair and dabbed his cloth napkin into his water. He came around towards me and started to wash out my hand. I stood up and said, "God, I'm such a moron."

"You're bleeding."

"It doesn't hurt."

"We should rinse this out. You don't want it to get infected."

"I guess not," I said. I stood up and once Spencer finished brushing the shards of glass away from my hand, I took the napkin from his grasp. I brushed past him and continued, "I've got it. I can clean this up myself."

"Maybe I should get the check?"

"That might be a good idea," I said as I looked around for the bathroom. Spencer pointed towards the back and I smiled. It was strange. I should've been crying out in pain. I should've been attempting to make an effort to show Spencer he wasn't Rice-A-Roni, but I didn't have it in me and I was sick of acting like I did.

I cleaned myself up and tried to do my best impersonation of a Boy Scout using toilet paper as gauze for my hand. When I emerged from the bathroom, the busboy was already at work cleaning our table and Spencer was waiting by the door. He smiled at me and said, "It wasn't exactly the birthday meal I had planned for you."

"You mean not all the girls get treated to blood and break-ups? No wonder you're still single."

Spencer chuckled, "Yeah, what's your excuse?"

"I suck?"

"Hardly."

"You're allowed to admit I suck. I've pretty much been a bitch to you the whole evening…shit the necklace."

Spencer pulled the locket out of his pocket, dangling it in front of my eyes, and replied, "I got it for you."

"If we're really…I mean, I don't think it's right for me to-" I fumbled for the right way to phrase my response.

"Laney, I want you to have it. It's your birthday gift."

"This is weird. Usually the guys-well guy-I dated went running off in the other direction screaming obscenities and complaining that I was too into verbal sparring."

"Aha," Spencer replied loudly as he clicked on his alarm and unlocked the car. I used my unscathed hand to open the door. I hopped up into the seat and watched Spencer ease into the driver's seat. He turned on his stereo as Johnny Lang-a favorite of mine-reached out with his blues guitar and soulfully begged a girl to lie to him about her feelings. I would be perfect for that job.

Spencer turned his ignition and said to me, "I now understand your attraction to Justin."

"What? Look. I'm not-"

"It's the banter, isn't it? It's the equivalent of flirting for the two of you-a weird type of foreplay."

I didn't say anything as I pondered the validity of Spencer's statement. It would provide further evidence to support the insanity of my relationship with Justin. Normal people giggled and groped each other while Justin and I argued about movies as a way to let the other know we cared. We were pathetic.

At least Justin realized it on his own. I needed Spencer to highlight my own not-so-normal consciousness to me and I still didn't want to accept it. I was a junkie, a Justin junkie who didn't realize that she had a problem. Unfortunately the only cure for me was…I had no idea. Was there a cure? Maybe a night of listening to "Riddle" nonstop would snap me out of it.

"I think you should call him."

"This is really a weird conversation for us to be having."

"Well, it's not exactly a normal situation. I'm dating the love of my boss' life and she's got nobody fooled but herself."

"We sound like a soap opera."

"As long as it's not Young And The Restless," Spencer pulled out onto the road and shrugged when he observed my baffled expression. He explained, "Every day after school Allie would make me watch her tapes of the show. She's the reason I took up basketball. It was the only way to avoid getting caught up in the whole Victoria/Ryan/Nina love triangle."

"And I thought Justin and I were weird," I commented. I pulled the toilet paper away from my hand and said, "Yeah, can you drop me off at Steph's house? My parents will wonder why I'm home so early and bleeding."

"Sure."

"Spence?"

"Hhhmmm?" He asked, glancing at me with a huge grin. He was an amazing guy and I suddenly remembered why I had liked him in the first place. Liked, not loved. Never would love. Dammit.

"Are we going to be friends? Because I could use someone to talk politics and exchange book suggestions with."

He nodded, "I think so."

"It doesn't bother you? I mean, you work with Justin…not that I…I don't know what I feel for him, but it's…so complicated and having one less complication to worry-"

"I think that's your problem, Laney. You worry too much about the possible outcomes when you should be concentrating on the moment."

"Carpe Diem," I replied.

"Something like that."

I pointed to the right and said, "Turn right here and then make a quick left."

Spence nodded and said, "You should follow-"

"Follow my heart? Please don't get all cliché on me."

"I was going to ask if I follow the fork in the road or turn off," Spencer replied with a small grin.

"Oh…yeah…I knew that. Turn off."

"Liar."

"Yeah, pretty much talking out of my ass."

"Laney, do what's right for you. Don't worry about what everyone else thinks or the sensibleness of it all. You'll go crazy. Take it from someone who knows."

"You realize that you are too perfect to be real."

"I hear a lot of girls say the same thing about Justin every day."

"Oh right. That boy is far from perfect. Head made of steel and way too impulsive for his own good…not to mention his affinity for rhyming everything when he's bored. He's like Dr. Seuss on crack," I countered. We crept up on Steph's house and I said, "That's the house."

"Well, I'm far from perfect too. You don't know me well enough to see that yet."

"Don't go ruining the image, Spence," I quipped.

I opened the car door. I looked at Spencer and kissed his cheek. I stared at him for a minute and smiled weakly, "I'm really sorry about everything. I wanted you to be-"

"I'm not really that upset."

"That's great for the ego," I said with a roll of the eyes and small laugh.

"I think we were both in love with the idea of finding the perfect person and missed the obvious signs flashing 'we don't belong together' in bright neon lights." Spencer handed me the necklace and said, "I've never given a girl a friendship necklace before. It's strange."

"I've never gotten a friendship necklace either…and I've gotten some weird gifts in my time, mostly from…well, you know…Buddy Holly…not from Buddy Holly but…I'll shut up…can you help me with the necklace?" I asked, lifting my hair up and turning around. Spencer closed the clasp and I felt the cold chain on my skin. I looked down and added, "Perfect."

Spencer nodded towards my hand, "You might want to get a doctor to look at that hand."

"Steph's mom is a nurse and she's used to my klutziness by now," I replied as I stepped out on to the curb. I stared at him, wondering if this was the right thing to do. I waved to him and started to walk up towards the front door.

"Laney?" Spencer called out.

I spun around, "Yeah?"

"You never told me what Justin got you for your birthday."

"A gas card."

"A gas card?"

"Uh-huh."

"Does that have some sort of significance I'm missing?"

"Yeah. He's trying to force me to stop being chicken about everything."

"Cool."

"I guess."

"I'll talk to you later."

"Goodnight Spencer," I said with another small wave as he drove off down the block. The numbness was starting to wear off and I was hit full-force with a severe pain in my hand and my head, not to mention the wine was starting to make the world blur around me.

Why was I always doing this stuff to myself? Whenever things got too tough emotionally, I closed up or ran away. I did it with everything. I fought so hard to never be like my sister, Meredith, who allowed love to rule her thinking that I had become obsessed with not falling in love. I was so sure that true love didn't exist that I went out of my way to make it impossible for me to ever have it. If you don't have it, you can't lose it and you can't get hurt.

But I hurt people. I hurt Justin. I annihilated the one person who always stuck up for me when I couldn't do it for myself and cared about me as I was.

It didn't get much better than that and I ruined it.

I was a truly wretched human being.

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chapter twenty-one

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