Chapter Twenty-One

I stood on the sidewalk in front of Steph's house, staring off in the direction of Spencer's long-gone car. The wine was releasing its control on my brain and I started to realize what happened earlier that night. I had broken up with Spencer, or more accurately Spencer had broken up with me. He had encouraged me to pursue Justin, which still seemed strange and not like the smartest plan…

God Justin. I was so horrible to him. I had all but dismissed him as insane and walked away. How could he forgive me for that? I walked up the front steps to Steph's house, rang the doorbell, and stepped back in astonishment when Lance answered the door. I peered down at the number of the house and glanced back up. I pointed, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

I practically stumbled into Lance's arms and laughed, "Well, you always have made quite the fall mat, Lance."

"It's not as fun when I'm not drunk too, Laney," Lance said. He helped me into the house and peered at my hand, studying the self-inflicted damage, "What the hell happened to you? I thought you were going to dinner not into the ring for a cage match…STEPH…"

Steph came in from the other room and her arms went on to her hips, "Melanie Jane, what did you do to yourself?"

"I broke a glass at dinner. No more wine for me. I need to add that to the list of potent liquors to avoid."

"Oh Jesus. Do you think you can hide your obvious drunken state long enough for my mother to fix up your hand?"

I nodded and moaned, "Don't worry about it. I suck. Let me bleed to death. I deserve it."

Steph laughed and Lance said, "You sound like Justin. All afternoon during rehearsal all we heard was how we should strangle him with his puppet strings because he was a lost cause. He had strings…and they were in pain."

I didn't want to hear about Justin's pain. I replied, "Speaking of…shouldn't you be at rehearsal?"

"Dinner break."

"Oh," I replied. Lance helped me into the living room and, as I took a seat on the couch, careful not to bleed on the fabric, I asked, "Why are you at Steph's?"

"Didn't she tell you? I'm her new boss. I was dropping off some papers for her to peruse for me."

"You're the cool job?"

"Well, I don't know how cool scheduling auditions for FreeLance and faxing papers are, but yes."

"Interesting."

"I was going to offer the job to you, but Justin explained you had other plans."

"I love how he speaks for me."

"Was he wrong?"

"No, but still."

Lance laughed, "You're both such babies. Good lord! How do you put up with each other?"

"No one else will have us which was made further evident by my break-up with Spencer."

Steph reappeared with her mother and her mother rolled her eyes muttering about what a klutz I was. Once she finished, I drank a glass of soda and ate a few crackers. I started to feel more like myself, more like myself than I had in a few weeks. It was childish to admit, but the more I thought about it, the more grateful I was that Justin was miserable. I mean I didn't want him miserable, but it was nice to know that I wasn't alone in my pain. Misery really does love company.

Steph flipped on the television and scolded, "Honestly Laney, injuring yourself seems like a stupid approach to handling things."

"It wasn't like I drove my car into a tree. I broke a glass. Spence surprised me, okay?"

Lance pulled on the creases in his pants and stood up. He said, "I need to get back to rehearsal. Steph drop those papers off at Lakeland tomorrow around noon and I'll try to skim them." Lance kicked my leg and said, "Laney, get some sleep. You look rough."

"Thanks a lot, Lance. You can report to your little friend that my life has fallen apart. He was successful in his plan to ruin me."

"Melanie Jane, get a grip. This is not Justin's doing. Sure, he picked a really inappropriate time to tell you how he felt, but he's not the one lying to himself," Steph replied forcefully.

I glared at her, "You're defending Justin?"

"Yes, and let me tell you, it pisses me off. You're making me defend that moron. But he's been nothing but honest with you. He laid it out on the table for you and left everything in your hands. He doesn't appear to be stalking you or ruining your life at all. You're doing a bang-up job on your own."

I wasn't used to getting lectured by Steph and I especially didn't like that Lance was there to witness it. Tough love was for wusses. I stood up and huffed, "What do you know?"

"I know a chicken when I see one."

"Oh please. I'm supposed to take love advice from a girl that once dated a guy because he had pretty thumbs."

"This isn't about me, is it?"

"Girls, why don't-"

"No, Lance, it's okay. Steph is suddenly Dr. Ruth," I replied.

"Laney, what is so bad about Justin?" Steph paused and looked to Lance, "Did I say that?"

"Yeah."

Steph slid into her mother's peach chair, lifted her legs to her chest, and groaned, "Oh no."

"It's not that. I don't…what if I…I just…" I babbled incoherently. I couldn't get the words out. No matter how I started it, the alphabet was lodged in my throat in unrecognizable patterns. I ran my fingers over the huge band-aide on my hand and said softly, "He's too important to me already."

"So?"

"So that's bad."

Steph looked at Lance and replied, "That's actually a good thing. As you pointed out so rudely, I'm not exactly an expert on love, but I'm pretty sure you want the other person to actually matter to you on some deeper level."

"Justin and I aren't deep. We're quite shallow. Until Justin announced he was in love with me, despite all our arguing and talking, we didn't get really deep or wander out of our secure, frivolous area. What if I'm a safety net for him? What if I decide that maybe there is some deeper thing between us and he realizes that Britney is much more suitable for him?"

"Justin's not going to do that," Lance spoke up. He folded his arms and literally dug his heels into the shag carpeting. He went on, "Justin loves you, Laney. I've seen him with Britney and I've seen him with you. There is no doubt who's more suitable for him and who he holds in higher regard."

"But-"

"None of that matters if you aren't in love with him," Lance replied.

"I don't know."

"You do too," Lance replied. His green eyes penetrated into mine and I got lost in the pools of green. If he wasn't already set on a career path, he could easily become a CIA agent. His ability to cut through people with a look was amazing and quite daunting.

"Yeah, I know."

Lance smiled, "Can you actually say it out loud?"

"That's a mighty big step for a chickenshit like myself, Lance."

"Aww, it's not that hard."

"Then how come you haven't said it to a girl yourself?"

Lance blushed, "Fair enough, but those that can't do, teach."

My chest was pounding so loudly I wondered how anyone could hear anything over the sounds coming from my chest. There was no escaping it. Once I said the words, I couldn't turn back or declare temporary amnesia. I would be forced to follow through on it. I'd be required to stop talking about life and love so much and actually experience it.

Fuck, I wasn't sure if I had it in me. This wasn't a normal situation. This was Justin. This was the guy I had known forever. This was my best friend that I turned to when boys hurt my feelings. This was the person that I actually considered a part of me because of how he could read me like a book.

And that was it. The real reason I didn't let Justin in-if I gave into this love he swore was between us…when he got bored or the fans declared me unworthy or it ended like all love seemed to, there would be nothing. I would be nothing. How did someone recover from something like that?

"I think I love him."

Lance grinned, "That's definitely progress."

"I'll say," Steph piped in.

"But it's too late," I countered with a dramatic anguish I didn't know I possessed. I should've raised my hand to my forehead and pouted to complete the Kelly from 90210 look.

Lance put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed, "Not nearly."

Steph flanked me from the other side and added, "And not if my boss and I help you."

"Oh god," I moaned.

"C'mon Laney. It could be fun. I bet he won't be expecting it," Steph said. She clutched her chest and jumped up and down, "Wow. This could be really romantic. Justin has all but completely lost hope in love and then you appear like some goddess from the water and-"

Lance and I exchanged looks and I said, "Do you see what I put up with? Between her and Justin I'm surprised I haven't choked to death on all this romantic bullshit."

"Just once Laney, I'd like a memory of our friendship that I didn't have to repress," Steph countered.

Lance separated us and said, "Girls, stay focused."

"On what?" we both replied simultaneously.

Lance put his hands on my shoulders and asked, "Laney, do you want to do this?"

"I don't-" I paused and glanced down at my locket. I fiddled with the heart and realized that it was given too much credit in the world of love. It didn't really affect anything. The heart pumped blood and oxygen. That was all. The brain was the real problem. Despite its preference for logic and knowledge, sometimes the brain did impulsive things-reflexive behavior, things that were simply known, maybe passed down from generations or part of that eighty percent of the brain we didn't utilize.

God, I didn't even know what I was talking about. It was as if I needed to have some sort of explanation for Justin and the feelings that were surfacing quicker and quicker than I could process. I ran my fingers through my hair and, through some sort of freaky sense memory, I remembered what it felt like to have Justin's fingers tangled in my hair. The jolts of energy and the simple yet complicated bursts of clinginess I experienced and forced myself to squelch.

I grinned, not sure why, not sure if it was proper to be almost beaming in a time of emotional turmoil such as this, and met Lance's gaze. I stated, "I don't want anything over-the-top. Drama is Justin's style, not mine."

"True."

"I'm not sure what to say, but I don't want some stupid script either. Although, maybe I should teach the jackass a lesson and quote My Best Friend's Wedding to him…no, with my luck, he would miss the nasty undertones and like it."

Lance leaned towards Steph and whispered, "Is she always like this?"

"Quiet. I'm trying to figure this out," I said. I tapped my fingers against my lips and replied, "So I love him, right? And I've obviously hurt his feelings and while I'm still completely terrified of what all of this means, I need to somehow appease him, ease his own fears, and heal his bruised ego."

"Sounds about right," Lance replied.

"Right…" I replied. I glanced at my two co-conspirators and asked, "But how do I accomplish that?"

"We could have you accidentally show up at rehearsal and beg for his forgiveness?" Steph offered.

"No, let's not go crazy here. I'm not about to beg for his forgiveness when he blindsided me with this in an outlandish way…" my voice trailed off as I observed the frustrated looks on their faces. I shrugged and added sheepishly, "…but maybe an apology is due."

"How about you show up at rehearsal tomorrow morning? We're not due in until ten thirty. I can get Chris to tell Justin to be there at ten and you can be waiting for him?"

"And?" Steph added.

Lance rolled his eyes, "And she tells him how she feels."

"Is that all?" Steph questioned.

I narrowed my eyes on her and replied, "Would you prefer I had 'I heart U, J' tattooed on my forehead?"

"I was-"

Lance spoke over us, "I'm pretty sure it won't take much more than that for Justin. We caught him playing with his guitar today."

"Oh Christ Almighty," I replied with a groaned. I shook my head, "I really did break him."

"But you're going to fix it," Lance said. He glanced at his watch and replied, "I have to get back to rehearsal before Wade makes me run laps around the arena."

"Aren't you his boss?" Steph asked.

"Yeah, but it doesn't seem to phase Wade," Lance said. He squeezed my hand and winked at Steph. She pretended like it didn't happen and I wasn't about to get caught up in someone else's potential love story when I had my own problems to resolve.

Steph shut the door after he left and said, "Do you want to stay the night? I can be your positive reinforcement."

"Sure…I'll have to call my mother in a bit. I'm trying to avoid the whole Spencer-no-longer-my-boyfriend story until I figure everything out myself."

"You really do overthink everything."

"I'm working on it."

"Well, I believe you're doing the right thing. But please, keep the public displays of affection to a minimum. Like it's not bad enough I've had to watch the two of you get lost in a conversation about which had better furniture--Ikea or Pier One. I don't want to endure face sucking and an ogling of body parts too."

My face turned bright red at the thought. I followed Steph up the stairs and said, "Well, he is an excellent kisser. It so makes up for the dog slobber that Alan used to crud up my cheek with. Bleh."

Steph hung over the railing at the top and peered down at me, "You kissed him?"

"He kissed me."

"You didn't tell me that," Steph shook her head and repeated, "I can't believe you didn't tell me that."

"It was a bit confusing."

"So what's it like? Are his lips as amazing as girls everywhere fantasize about?"

I brushed past her and replied, "Sorry, I don't kiss and tell."

"Oh no. That doesn't apply to me. I'm the best gal pal. I get the juicy details-when asked for that is. Don't go telling me about-"

"Steph, please don't finish that sentence," I replied. I fell on her futon and smirked, "It was definitely better than the kisses described in any story I've read. It was simple, but electrifying. It was like the kiss at the end of Cutting Edge. The pent up frustration, backfiring of nerves, and culmination of years of arguments released in front of a bunch of strangers. Of course, I nearly punched him in the face for doing it."

"I'm guessing you didn't tell him that."

"The whole almost punching him in the jaw thing interfered with that. Besides, the boy has a big enough ego already. He knew he was a good kisser. That's why he did it. When all else fails, kiss the girl. That's Justin's motto."

"Not a bad one. More guys should employ that line of defense."

I laughed, "True. Very true."

I bolted upright when I had a brilliant thought. I wasn't sure how sane or how practical it was, but I figured now was a good time to start practicing spontaneity a bit…in very small doses and never getting carried away to where I wake up with Justin's mentality. No, it's one thing to realize you can love someone who is completely impulsive and idealistic; it's another thing to become that. I grabbed Steph's phone. I asked, "What's Lance's cellphone number?"

"What makes you think I-"

I rolled my eyes and said incredulously, "Please, who are you trying to-"

Steph scowled and blurted out quickly, "555-7132" She sat down on the edge of the futon and said, "What's going on?"

"I had an idea," I glanced at my watch and added, "Pick up the damn phone, Lance. He can't be back at rehearsal already. He left…"

"Hello?"

"Lance?"

"Yes…shit…" the phone dropped and I rolled my eyes. He picked it up again and said, "Whoever this is…I nearly ran into the Lakeland Arena."

"It's Laney."

"This better be good," he replied. I heard him slam his door shut and set his alarm.

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Aren't I already?"

"Yeah, but…when do you guys leave for Mississippi?"

"I don't have time…Hey JC, have you seen Chris?"

"Lance, are you listening to me?"

"Yes?"

"So?"

"We're on a few different flights as to keep fans from mobbing the airport, but I think Joey and Chris get in at two in the afternoon to assure that we can get through soundcheck before the first show…why?"

"Is it required that Justin fly in?"

"Why?"

"I had an idea. He gave me this great birthday present. It'd be a shame not to put it to use."

Lance chuckled, "Are you sure you haven't swapped bodies with Justin or something…hey Chris, I need to talk to you."

I heard Chris say something in the background and Lance told me, "I'll check on that for you and set up everything for tomorrow. I'm going to let Todd know what's going on so you actually get in the arena."

"Thanks Lance. You rock. You always were my favorite."

"I know. Justin told me," Lance answered clicking the phone off.

I stared at the phone and scowled, "Justin has a big mouth. He can't keep a secret to save his life. Oooh that makes it hard to resist the urge to slug him…grrrr." I stood up and put the phone back on its cradle. I focused on Steph and asked, "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you looooovvveee him," Steph replied making lip-smacking kiss noises as she hopped on to her bed and tossed me an extra pillow. She said, "I have to admit, this is a strange conversation we're having."

"Tell me about it."

"But I think it's strange in a good way."

"Me too."

"And you're madly in love with him, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm mad-totally insane in fact-and I do love him," I replied. I caught the silly grin on my face reflecting off her closet mirror. I covered my face and said, "Jesus. I'm broken."

"Nah, you're in love."

"In love with Justin? Oh god. Things were so much simpler when boys were icky."

"No kidding."

I'm interrupting her before I'm not only icky, but equated with doggie doo-doo.

I didn't say you were icky. I was talking about when I considered boys-all boys-to be icky.

Laney, please, stop trying to charm me like this. You've already got my heart.

You'll get my foot up your ass if you don't stop harping on this.

Would you prefer I recount the experience of having you reply to my profession of love with "I don't hate you, Justin?"

For the rest of my life, he will milk that one for all it's worth.

Damn right I will. So, should I talk about the depths of my despair when you trampled on my pure love for you with "I don't hate you, Justin, but…" Would that make you happy? Or can I get on with this story?

I guess I should be flattered that the girl finally admitted she cared for me…check that…loved me. Why is it that whenever a situation looks completely hopeless something changes and either makes it even more hopeless, or in my situation, takes it a step in the right direction? Laney Jane is perfect for me in every way. We might not appear the logical choice for a couple, but there isn't always a practical explanation for why people get together. We work and it doesn't hurt that I love her more than anything and remind myself of that whenever she pisses me off (which is a lot).

But, while Laney was gaining her much needed clarity, I was wallowing in a pity party for one. I was unaware of Laney's epiphany, only occasionally noticing Lance and Chris whispering in my direction with strange smiles, and I tried to hide my devastation by snapping at Joey for not moving his fat ass out of my lighting.

I was pretty sure that by three am when we called it quits for the night that the guys all wanted to maim me in some horrible, face-disfiguring way. I decided it was best not to offer the pretense of goodbyes when I hated anything and everything in my life.

I hopped off the stage and hurried to my dressing room. I gathered up my stuff and searched for my keys. Once I found them on the table, I headed out to my car. Chris was sitting on the hood of my Mercedes and I glared at him. He hopped off the hood of my car, looked at me, and said, "Can you get here at ten am? Wade said he needed to go over something with you, but you flew out of the room before he had a chance to say anything."

"It's probably about the timing on the pyro for No Strings Attached. I can't get it right…then again, I can't get anything right lately."

"Yep," Chris replied with a stupid smirk.

I opened my door and tossed my duffel bag into the passenger's seat. I laid my arms on the rim of the door and looked at Chris. He was practically leering at me and I knew there was something I was missing. I asked, "Was that it?"

"Yeah. Wait for him on the stage…ten am. Be on time," he replied as he hurried off towards his car. Something was definitely up, but I didn't care enough to find out. Everyone could go to hell for all I cared.

"I'm always on time," I shouted after him. I hopped in the car, switched CD's, and drove off.

"Share my life…take me for what I am…'cause I'll never change all my colors for you…"

It was a good thing that the local CD traders had a spare copy of The Bodyguard soundtrack. I wasn't sure anyone but Whitney understood my pain at the moment.

"…Take my love…I'll never ask for too much…just all that you are…and everything that you do…"

In my state of feebleness, I passed the turn-off for my own home and kept driving into Laney's neighborhood. I turned down her street and noticed that the light in her room wasn't on, but that the front porch light was. That meant she wasn't home yet. Why the hell wasn't she home yet? If Spencer was…oh god. Oh yuck.

I tried not to gag. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse. No wonder Laney brushed me off so quickly. She had to get ready for her big night with Spencer. Ew.

I turned up the volume on my stereo and sped off down the street, "I don't really need to look very much further…I don't wanna have to go where you don't follow…I've been holding back again, this passion inside…can't run from myself…there's no where to hide…"

I woke up the next morning at nine thirty, slamming my alarm against the wall, and trying to get my bearings. I didn't really remember getting home, let alone getting out of my sweaty clothes and into bed. I was on autopilot, my mind punishing me with upsetting images of Spencer and Laney together, laughing at how pathetic I was and how stupid I was to think that there was something between Laney and me.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and realized I had to be at rehearsal early. Shit, fuck, and goddamn. I was going to be late and Wade and Johnny were going to take turns kicking my ass.

My first official day without Laney in my life was already off to a remarkable start as I quickly showered, not bothering to shave, and hurried out the door. I got halfway down the driveway when I realized I left my duffel bag and cellphone in the house…along with my house keys.

I wanted to crawl into the backseat of my car, curl up in the fetal position, and die. It seemed the best alternative to going to rehearsal and getting reamed for my tardiness. But somehow I got the car to the arena, burst through the doors, and ran to the stage. I glanced at my clock. Nine Fifty Nine AM. Made it with time to spare.

I dropped my bag on one of the chairs and climbed up on the stage. I imagined the place was filled with people screaming and chanting and said a prayer of good luck. If I couldn't succeed personally, at the very least my professional life could run smoothly.

The conveyor belts were on for our rehearsal and I jumped on to run through the routine while I waited for Wade. I started dancing, getting lost in the choreography as I hummed out the tune.

"Doesn't look half bad."

I glanced up. Laney Jane was standing at the back of the floor and walking down the aisle towards me. I opened and shut my eyes. She was still there, moving closer and closer. I rubbed my eyes, not paying attention to how close to the end of the conveyor belts I had gotten, and went flying into the keyboards. I fell to the ground and let out a loud moan as every muscle screamed out in pain.

I heard a rustling of chairs and hurried footsteps on the stairs. When I blinked my eyes open, Laney was hovering over me with concern on her face. I didn't want to see her fake pity after I knew she had spent the night with Spencer. I rolled over and pushed myself up. I glared at her and exclaimed, "Are you trying to kill me here?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Because frankly, I think you've done enough damage to last YEARS here, Laney. I don't need anymore help, especially with my TOUR starting TOMORROW," I shouted. Never in the history of our relationship had I yell-yelled at Laney Jane. It felt surprisingly nice to direct some of my anger at the person responsible for ruining my life…or trying to…or not loving me…one of those.

She twirled a piece of her hair around her fingers and her dark eyes widened. I had to get away from her. Why was she here? What was she doing to me? Even in the limousine, Laney was never malicious about her lack of feelings for me, so why was she starting now?

Christ, what if Spencer was lurking in the foyer? I would literally barf on the stage.

"Justin, are you okay?"

"DO I LOOK OKAY?"

"Well, you've never been…" her voice trailed off and she chewed on a piece of her hair. She spit it out quickly and softly-too softly for Laney, which made me even more suspicious to why she was here-said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," I huffed. I folded my arms and stared at her, "Well?"

She gripped her hands and her expression was almost unreadable. No, that couldn't be good. The way my day was going the girl was marrying Spencer and wanted me to be her Maid of Honor. She pushed her hair out of her face and replied, "Huh?"

"Laney, what are you doing here?" I asked even though I didn't want to know the answer. I silently chanted: do not say Spencer, do not say Spencer, do not say Spencer.

"Well, Spencer and I-"

She said Spencer. It was official. I hated her. I glared at her and turned my back to her. I hopped off the stage and hollered, "Where the fuck is Wade? They made a big deal about me getting here on time and he's not even around!"

"Justin, could you-"

"Laney, you might want to get out of here. Wade was supposed to meet me to go over some stuff and it's probably better if you're not here. I'd rather you left."

Laney sat down on the edge of the stage, dangling her legs over. My eyes wandered to where she was kicking her legs like she was sitting by a pool and smiling at me. God, she didn't have the right to smile at me, not after everything that happened. She was wearing khaki shorts, showing off her nearly perfect legs, and my eyes wandered up the length of her.

"What happened to your hand?" I asked, trying to hide my concern.

For a minute, it was the Laney I always knew. She grinned self-deprecatingly and said, "I broke a glass last night."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my normal klutzy self."

I smiled against my wishes and said, "My favorite will always be when you tripped on your shoelace and took out Mickey Mouse and Goofy at Epcot." I started to laugh, but stopped abruptly when I noticed the chain hanging from her neck. I leaned forward, flicking the gold heart with my finger, and said, "Nice."

"Birthday gift."

"Right."

"Thanks for yours, by the way. It made sense once I saw the rest of it," Laney replied.

I stared at her and said, "Not as nice as a locket, but I thought it might actually get you to follow through on your plans for that road trip. Ya know, remove the obstacles you create to avoid doing what you want." Laney nodded as she stumbled on her feet. I watched her curiously and tried to read her eyes as she once again took a piece of her hair and stuck it in her mouth. It made me think of when she would come on the set of Mickey Mouse Club. She'd sit in the corner with a book, chewing on her hair, and never saying a word until it was just her and me…then there was no way to shut her up.

Laney caught me gawking at her inquisitively and looked away. She locked her gaze on the lights above us. She couldn't even look me in the eye anymore. This was too depressing. I muttered, "Fucking Wade. Where the hell is he?"

"He's not coming."

I shot her a confused look, "What?"

"Well, I mean, of course he's going to come. It's your last day of rehearsal…but not until the other guys come."

"Laney, what are you talking about?"

"Lance and Chris helped me out with that."

"They what?"

Laney hopped off the stage and practically knocked us both to the ground. I groaned when her elbow knocked the wind out of me. I rubbed my stomach as we both got our feet on the ground. I placed my hands on her shoulders to help her get her balance and said, "Next time warn a guy when attempting a stage dive."

She smiled-that perfect ear-to-ear grin that always left me unable to finish a thought-and said, "I'll try to remember that."

I noticed that my hands were still on her shoulders and that we were very close to one another, too close for ex-friends. I stepped back and said, "So why did you want to talk to me?" As soon as the question fell off my lips, I got this weird feeling in my stomach. What if she was about to share the details of her evening with me? Oh god. I didn't know how Laney ever put up with my blabbing about past girlfriends because the idea of hearing any details repulsed me.

"Well…I wanted to tell you…" Laney clutched her hands together tightly and grimaced. Her eyes wandered all over and I knew it had to be bad. She appeared restless and she stammered out, "It's that…well, Spencer and I-"

Christ, they really were engaged…or moving in together…or having a baby. "Please don't finish that sentence," I said, removing my bandana and throwing it on one of the chairs. I stepped further away from her and grabbed a few towels from a box on the edge of the stage.

"Justin, I need to-"

I rubbed the towel over my face and said, "No, really, do NOT finish that sentence. I get it, okay? I get that we can't be together. I understand that you don't love me. I accept that you're with Spencer-"

"Justin, I don't think you-"

"What I don't get is why you're here. I'm trying really hard to accept your wishes, Laney. I fucking poured my heart out to you yesterday and you left…"

"Hey, I didn't leave."

"Oh, sorry, I left after you basically destroyed me."

"I know and I'm sorry."

"Well, it's not accepted. You had the right idea before. You live your life and I'll live mine. I don't want to be friends. So spare me the you're-not-my-type-but-a-really-good-fucking friend speech."

"I know that I deserve this-"

"Yeah, you do, Laney, but thanks for agreeing with me on something. I guess it's fitting that the first time you agree with me on anything is at the end of our whatever messed up thing we had going---"

"Justin, I don't really agree-"

"I didn't need you to show up the morning after you RUINED MY LIFE and try to share the intimate details of your relationship with Spencer!" I shouted over her as I twisted the towel in my hands, strangling it to death. I caught Laney's gaze and quickly glanced at my sneakers. I kicked at the untied shoelace and mumbled, "Go the fuck away."

"No," she replied as her arms folded and she got her stubborn face on.

"Then I'll have security kick your ass out."

"You're such a baby when your ego is bruised."

"You're such a bitch."

"And I'm not you. Even if there were intimate details, I wouldn't share them with you," she snapped. She pushed her hair out of her face and looked upwards again. I watched her chest rise and fall. I noticed her hand shaking and wondered what the hell was going on with her.

But I wasn't going to ask. It was none of my business. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care. I didn't care. I…didn't…care. I sighed, "Just leave Laney. I get that you're dating Spencer and that he works on this tour-"

"Justin, I'm not-"

"And I'm sure I'll have to watch you with him at some point this summer. Whatever. I'll find a way to deal with it. So if this is to make sure I don't fire-"

Laney shook her head and stated calmly, "You wouldn't fire, Spencer."

"No, I won't. It's personal not professional. So don't worry about securing your boyfriend's job," I replied bitterly.

"J, could I say something…"

"I bet you never worry that Mr. Wonderful would fire someone for personal reasons. He probably never says the wrong thing or makes mistakes and dates the wrong girls when everything he wanted was right in front of his eyes…"

She tried to interrupt me, "J, would you let-"

I cut her off again, "…and I know you hate the publicity and lack of privacy that comes with my life. So you did the right thing and I'm fine with it."

"That's true but-"

"I'm over you, Melanie Jane," I lied. I rubbed my temples and took a seat. I repeated, "I'm going to be okay."

"You're so brave."

"Don't act condescending."

"I'm not."

"I hate what you did to me," I admitted. There went my strategy to act like I was fine with everything and maintain some semblance of pride. At that point, I might as well finish digging my pathetic hole, "And I can't believe you chose Spencer…and stayed out with him all night-"

Laney's face twisted with confusion, "What?"

"Nevermind. I'd rather not think about it. Don't want to vomit on my new sneakers."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. It shouldn't surprise me though because in the eight years of our friendship there have been so many times--"

"Right. Sure. I drove…it doesn't matter how I know that you spent the night with that boring geek, but I know. Trust me, I'd rather not know."

"You're insane."

I ran my fingers through my hair to avoid playing with her hair like I always did when we were arguing and I didn't want to fight anymore. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to kiss me. Why did I still want that? What the fuck was wrong with me? Didn't I have any pride? I should've been angrier. I gripped at my curls and whined, "Yeah, thanks to you."

"Would you-"

I stood back up and pointed towards the doors, "Go away."

Laney started to laugh. I had no idea what was so funny, unless it was part of some elaborate plan between her and Spencer to make me insane so they could steal all my money (looking back I realize that Laney was right. I needed to stop watching the Lifetime Network when I couldn't sleep). It didn't help that her laugh was always infectious and I wanted to smile too. I couldn't smile. I was not going to smile. No upward muscular motion in my mouth was allowed while in Laney's presence. I was Justin Timberlake, one of the hottest men on earth according to eight out of ten magazines, and Laney was the devil. No smiling. No smiling. After all, she said she didn't love me and got out of the fucking car.

I yelled, "You got out of the fucking car! I was completely honest with you and you couldn't even return the favor. You left me and, for some reason I don't get, now you're trying to rub it in that you're completely happy without me while I'm miserable. You've turned me into some sappy loser-"

"You were always a sappy loser."

"SHUT UP! It's not my fault you're a chicken, Laney," I paused and kicked at the air between us. I hated that there had to be anything between us, but I was sick of taking the blame for it. This was all her doing. She destroyed what we had. She chose Spencer over me. Maybe I was acting like a brat or a baby, but what was I supposed to do if she wouldn't leave me alone? I cracked my knuckles and my voice rose, "That's right. You're a big fucking chicken. You gave up on us because you're worried about stupid shit that never mattered to me. I don't care about what some fifteen-year-old in Nebraska thinks of who I socialize with…you do."

"Well, I-"

"And you're the one who cares if people misconstrue your genuine affection for me as clingy and some way to steal my limelight. Anyone who knows you sees that for the bullshit it is. You're making up excuses-"

Laney threw her hand over my mouth. Her hands were cold and still shaking. I glared at her and she glared right back before replying, "Jesus Christ, Justin. It's impossible to get a word in edgewise with you."

"So?"

I was about to bite her hand, not caring if it was the action a five-year-old might take, when she released her hand from my mouth. She placed her hand on her chest and took a deep breath. She shot me a sideward glance and said, "It's definitely NOT one of the things that I love about you. Truly needs work. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you by my side, you need to work on that."

I dropped the towel on the floor and stared at her. I was hearing things. Maybe this was part of the grieving process. Denial, anger, and hallucinations? I kicked at the towel and said, "Could you repeat that for me?"

Laney stepped closer to me and rolled her eyes. She smiled anxiously and said, "You really are dense sometimes too, but that one is actually kind of endearing, so we'll let you keep it."

"Let me keep-Laney, are you drunk?"

Her head shook dramatically-like she was the one now acting out a Shakespearean death scene. "No, I was last night though-hence the broken glass and disfigured hand," she said, holding up her hand. My concern re-emerged and I had to grip my hands together to keep from making sure she was okay and not hemorrhaging. She pushed her hair out of her face and took another few steps closer until I could feel her breath hitting my face. She smiled brightly and added, "It seems that whenever I start to have feelings for you I don't quite understand, I drink. I'm sure you'll want me to work on that."

"I'm confused."

"Unless you'd prefer to be the popstar with an alcoholic girlfriend," she smiled deviously and added, "You've dated the Barbie doll, the leggings freak, and that girl Moonwood or Ravenface something from that cult, so maybe you'd-"

"I have no idea why we're talking about my past girlfriends."

"Not surprising," she said, taking my hand.

"Laney, you're holding my hand."

"I know that, stupid."

"Well…" I stared at her, "Why?"

"Okay, I totally suck at this and hoped to avoid any speeches or paraphrase a movie monologue-"

"For God's sake. I was nervous and I knew you loved the movie!"

"You're an inarticulate fool. There are interviews to prove it."

"You try talking about your life in front of a million people."

"I'd rather not. Another thing we'll need to figure out, but I'm sure with my brains and your charm we can think up something."

She said I had charm. I grinned unabashedly before I remembered I had no fucking clue what she was talking about. "What's going on?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrow. I removed my hand from her grasp and pointed between the two of us.

She looked like she was in pain. I recognized the tightened jaw and just-get-it-over-with glaze in her eyes, but it still didn't register as she said, "I love you, Justin."

I stumbled in my place and fell into a few of the chairs. I picked them up and sat down. I clutched at my curls and tried to force her words to make sense. Until that moment I had no idea it was possible to be completely elated, terrified, and pissed off in one swoop. I said, "Come again?"

"You're a complete idiot, a total drama queen, and a pain in my ass, but I love you," Laney replied in exasperation. She sat down in a chair next to mine and added, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Justin. I'm sorry I didn't react properly to your declarations. And I'm incredibly sorry that I couldn't get around my own insecurities to-"

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" I said staring at the floor to make sure I wasn't tripping on acid or something. The floor was a solid brown, not moving, not spinning. I reached over and pinched Laney's leg. She was real too. Okay, not sure what was going on. After everything that happened, Laney wouldn't decide she was in love with me…she was so…well, I knew she loved me. I always knew that, but she was so fucking stubborn and determined to prove me wrong.

She pulled me out of my thoughts and replied, "Spencer and I broke up last night."

"Um…what?"

"We broke up."

I was going to remain calm. I would not dance around like a goofy idiot. I would not go up to Spencer and laugh in his face. I would stop and think about what this meant. I asked, "Was this before or after you were drunk?"

"Well, no…I wasn't really drunk…there was drinking involved because I couldn't…what does it matter?"

"It matters."

She frowned, "Why exactly?"

"Because if you were drunk and didn't mean it, then this is pointless."

Laney took a slow breath…I was used to that type of breath from her. She always did it when she was inches away from throttling the life out of me. She chewed at her lip for a minute and stared at me. I didn't want to make eye contact though. Her eyes were too…there I went again being stupid and uncool. I decided to stay focused on the floor to make sure it didn't start moving and swallow me up.

"Justin, I'm…oh, this is so overdone and cliché. I was hoping to avoid it really, but you're leaving me no choice here."

"What?" I replied. It seemed like the only response I could offer to anything at the moment.

Laney stood up and groaned, "This is so humiliating and if this doesn't completely heal your wounded ego, I don't know-"

"Laney-"

She held up her hand and said, "Wait right here."

"What the hell-"

She ran down the aisle to the back of the floor. She picked up a few pieces of posterboard and ran back to me, practically tripping over the cards. I rolled my eyes and stated, "If you break your leg, clumsy, don't even try to sue me."

"Drats. You've foiled my evil plans to financially ruin you."

"Smart ass."

She smirked, "Yeah, I know. But like your dim-witted moments, we'll learn to live with it."

"I'm really-"

Laney held up the first card in front of her. I groaned and covered my eyes. She looked down and said, "Don't you like the block lettering? I did it myself. Daisy 4-eva, baby!"

"Is that supposed to be a duck?" I asked turning my head sideways and staring at the artwork.

Laney shrugged and tossed the piece of posterboard over her head to reveal another one. This one was in purple marker and said, "You're Tearin' Up My Heart."

"Funny."

She rolled her eyes and chucked the card aside. I leaned forward and read it aloud, "And I want you back." I glanced at her, feeling my confidence return in spades, and shot her a cocky look, "Well, well…"

She pushed me back in my chair and whispered in my ear, "Arrogance is so not a turn-on." I felt her smile against my skin before she moved back to her original spot and heaved the card over her head.

I read the next card, "I heart you, Justin." I couldn't help it. I know she said arrogance wasn't…but damn. I just needed her to come a bit closer so I could show her that the feeling was mutual.

Laney met my gaze and said, "One last card."

"I don't need anymore cards…" I protested.

"No, this one is my favorite. Dana thought it up. Like I said, she's definitely battling serious love for you," Laney replied. She flipped the card over and I started to laugh. Laney pointed to each word and said it aloud, "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On…JUSTIN."

"Cute. Did you actually make these yourself?"

"Nah, there are a group of fans outside waiting for glimpses of you. I bought them from a ten year old for a date with JC. But shh. He doesn't know about that yet," she replied dropping the last card and taking a step closer to me.

I stood up and raised my hand to my chin, "But see. Why would a JC fan have all those cards with my name on them?"

"Okay, you got me," Laney paused and removed all the distance between us. It felt like I hadn't seen her in forever and I reached out to pull her close to me, to make sure this was really happening and I wasn't beyond any and all help. Laney pushed her hands into my chest and explained, "See, she was your fan, but I explained what a Julia Roberts obsessed, Puff Daddy quoting, romantic comedy watching, Bubble Yum chewing, spandex-loving freak you were. She quickly saw the error of her ways and moved on to JC."

"Yeah, but you love me," I replied.

"I've got the posters to prove it too."

"Shouldn't have needed posters to prove it."

"True. You shouldn't have needed to kidnap me either. I suck."

I shook my head no, but replied, "I agree."

"And I'm really sorry."

"Me too."

"And this is going to be really hard, but I guess you're worth the-" I cut her off with a kiss. I didn't need to hear anymore. The more I heard, the less likely I was to believe it was happening. She and I were always talking. We talked, talked, talked and never acted. I was sick of it and honestly, I wasn't sure I could go much longer without kissing her before I did something drastic like lock us both in a closet for a very long time.

Her hands roamed up my back, to the nape of my neck, and intertwined with my curls as she pulled me closer to her. Damn. Have I mentioned she had amazing lips? Perfect for kissing. Perfect for kissing me, that is. Didn't want to ever hear about her kissing Spencer. Yuck.

I pulled back and stared at her. She had her eyes firmly shut, but she was smiling. She sighed and said, "Yes, definitely a better kisser than Alan."

I rolled my eyes, "Busta is a better kisser than Alan."

"Have you had much experience with that Justin? Your dating options getting that slim these days that you're molesting Chris's pug?"

"Ha, ha," I replied. I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and hovered over her lips momentarily. She touched my face gently and I grinned like a stupid idiot. I knew we had a lot to work out. She would still be the same stubborn, get-out-of-my-face-with-that-camera Laney Jane and I would still be in the public eye. There was also the whole thing with making sure we got to see each other and I really needed to know why the hell she was wearing Spencer's tacky gold locket if she was in love with me. But that could wait a bit longer while I reveled in her vanilla chapstick.

I kissed her again and this time all the pent up frustration, the possibility of losing this perfect, certifiably insane girl mixed with my anger made for an explosive kiss. I almost didn't hear the whispers and chuckling behind us. I whispered in Laney's ear, "We're being watched, aren't we?"

"It looks like it."

I stepped back and pulled Laney Jane against me. My arm wrapped around her shoulders and I kissed the side of her head. It felt so natural, to hold her close to me like she was mine, like we would be together forever. (This is probably the type of stuff that encourages Laney to call me a girl. I'm gonna have to work on that.)

Chris clapped his hands and exchanged high-fives with Lance while JC and Joey whistled in our direction. Laney rolled her eyes and I tightened my grip on her and said, "Yeah, thanks for interrupting us, guys. I was finally getting some-"

Laney hit me in the stomach and I crumpled over in pain. I glared at her and said, "What the hell was that?"

"A love tap?"

"It hurt."

"I told you we had to work on your abuse of the English language," she said with a smirk. Damn if she didn't look completely irresistible like everyone one of my past and present crushes and idols wrapped into one amazing package. Heather Locklear, eat your heart out cuz you ain't got nothing on Laney Jane.

"Laney Jane, I'm going to enroll you in an anger management class."

"Sorry, can't. I've got a gas card and maps. I'm going on the road," she said. She went into the pockets of her shorts and pulled out sunglasses for effect.

I frowned. Shit. I hadn't thought about that part of my gift. She was actually going to go on this trip. Only Laney Jane would finally admit she loved me, kiss me back (again!), and plan to abandon me for the whole summer. This was unacceptable. I pulled her to the side of the stage, out of the viewing eye of my nosey friends, removed her sunglasses, and asked, "When do you plan to leave?"

Laney picked up my wrist and studied my watch before answering, "We have to be outta here by ten pm to allow for enough time to get there."

"We?"

"That's what I said."

"We?" I repeated again. I raised my hand and patted the stage, "Do you see my predicament here?"

"Not really."

"Laney, as much I would love to go away with you, I've got twenty thousand fans expecting me to be on stage tomorrow night. Follow?"

Laney looked upwards like she was wondering how she got herself into this thing and spoke slowly, "We're going to Mississippi."

"Huh?"

She grabbed me by my shirt and gritted out, "My god. Are you doing this to aggravate me? I'm driving you to Mississippi for your first show. Jesus!"

I leaned my head to the side and said, "You're really cute when you're pissed off with me."

"Well I must look cute all the time then," Laney responded in mock disdain.

I winked at her, "Pretty much."

Laney blushed. For the first time ever, she blushed and it was because of me. Well, it wasn't the first time she blushed, but it was the kind of blush-the I-want-you-so-much-right-now-it-hurts blush. I was an expert on it. It was all I had experienced the past few weeks. I kissed her again and then groaned, "And I can't believe you did this to me when I have to spend the next fourteen hours rehearsing and unable to hang out with you."

"That was all Lance. I think they were sick of putting up with you."

"I was sick of putting up with me," I replied. I added, "You could fly out with me tonight and then we could watch a movie…"

She shook her head, "Totally defeats the purpose of road trip, J."

"I guess, but it saves more time for…." I brushed my lips against hers and whispered, "…much better ways to pass our time."

"Is there anything better than DollyWorld? I think not. I figure we could hit it first thing in the morning."

"Dollyworld?" I repeated unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, I was reading up on those books you gave me, wonderful gift by the way, and for five bucks, a person can see the many dollies of the world."

"Couldn't we as easily go to a toy store?"

"But it's Dollyworld."

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't make it anymore appealing," I answered simply. I bet this was some sort of punishment for the way I declared my feelings to her. Just like she knew I would forever hold the "I don't hate you" reply over her head, she was sure to torture me for my bad timing and use of Chasing Amy forever and ever and…well, you get the idea.

Laney kissed my cheek and said, "Fine. I guess I'll meet up with you in Mississippi. I mean, who needs to spend a night-"

I gulped. Shit, she had a point. Night with Laney…night with Laney or night in barren, desolate house before spending two months on a bus with Chris…was this even a question? Oh yeah, morning in Dollyworld. Laney must have noticed my inner turmoil-her soulmate psychic abilities were highly attuned-and she went in for the kill, "I hear you're flying with Joey too and, according to Lance, he's been having some bathroom problems-"

"What?"

Laney nodded and leaned up to kiss me briefly on the lips. She let out a mock-saddened breath and answered, "…yeah, I didn't ask how Lance knew that information, but someone let Joey near Mexican food. It sucks to be the guy sitting next to him on a plane…YOU…and I'll just have to see-"

A night with Laney involving lots of kissing, groping, and all those other couple -ings or a plane ride with the farting Fatone? Dammit. "Fine, fine. We'll go to Dollyworld for God's sake. The first day of my tour and I'm going to be staring at Princess Diana dolls. This is…" I stopped and realized that Laney did her first girlfriend manipulation on me.

Shit.

Laney grinned triumphantly and asked, "What are you thinking?"

I crossed my arms and brooded, "I got suckered."

"Pretty much."

I stuck out my bottom lip and pouted, "I think I deserve to get something out of this deal."

"My respect?"

"Respect is highly overrated, Laney," I replied as I pinned her between me and the stage. I smiled deviously and continued, "But kisses…really good kisses…"

"Uh-huh…"

"It's like Bull Durham-"

Laney shot me her lethal smile and quoted from memory, "Do you believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last for seven days? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Laney, I'm for any kiss, any time with you."

She laughed and said, "Smooth. Sadly, I actually fell for it."

"Whatever works, Laney Jane. Have I not told you that? What-ev-er works."

"I guess I should be grateful you at least chose a decent movie-"

"Are you insinuating I would ruin our moment with a quote from a bad movie?"

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"Laney Jane-"

"I half expected to have to deal with a 'you complete me' moment there and then I would-" I shut her up with a kiss. She pressed her hands into my chest and she nipped my lip lightly with her teeth. My god. She was dangerous.

But…I finally found a way to shut the girl up.

I should've admitted my love for her long, long, long ago. Like when I met her, like the minute she got her first "H" in Horse. I could've spared myself years of verbal abuse…not that I would trade a minute of it for anything.

Oh god. I need to shut him up right now.

Laney, you don't need an excuse to kiss me…ever.

Yeah, we'll act like that's what I was going for.

Isn't it?

Please ignore the dumb popstar located behind me, folks. I know it's hard. I've tried and failed miserably.

Anyway, I think it's only fitting that since I started this story, I finish it. I'll try to avoid any sentimental, highly cheesy endings although I fear that love has gotten the best of me. Despite the fact that we still banter with the best of them (Other people employ cutesy terminology like "cupcake" and "honey" for their significant others while Justin and I rely heavily on our own-i.e. moron, stupid, and smartass), we have become the couple. We have a song. We have an anniversary. We even have our own gag-me-with-a-spoon story of how we came to be the couple we are now.

In a lot of ways, nothing has changed. We're both still obsessed with movies, although Justin now insists on holding my hand and paying (as the poor college student, I take advantage of this one quite a bit) for everything that he considers "dates". I've actually gotten him to see a few foreign films-even though he whined that his eyesight was going and stated that if he wanted to read, he'd buy a book-and I actually liked the latest Julia Roberts movie.

At the same time, we're no longer buddies and with that comes a whole new set of issues. Justin and I both had to learn to take a step back and respect the others feelings on certain things-his fans, my future plans, and our joint existence. It was also strange dealing with the weirdness that is dating a friend. I mean Justin always complained to me about his girlfriend's problems-so far he hasn't tried that this time around-and I was used to obsessing about my celebrity crushes, which sometimes wound Justin's ego. (Although Matt Damon is on my Top Three Okay To Cheat On Justin list along with Edward Norton and Taye Diggs. And, if Heather Graham, Halle Berry, or Janet Jackson ever wake up desperate and craving time with Justin, I'll accept it.) But neither of us has killed the other or decided that we don't belong together yet…both good signs.

Together-the scariest word in all the land.

I think I'm gaining some perspective on it though. I never saw myself as a person who believed in fate or destiny, but there has to be some reason that certain people come into our lives, that Justin moved in next door to me. In ancient times there were people who believed that stars that were joint with other ones were the lucky clusters that found their match while on earth and emblazoned the sky for others still searching for that perfect mate. I'm not sure I believe that, but it's an interesting idea to ponder. It's also a nicer thought than accepting that I'm crazy and willingly date a guy who raided Olivia Newton John's Xanadu wardrobe closet for his public appearances.

Relationships are crazy things, even if the benefits are great. I'm still trying to get some sort of perspective on it. I think about all the movies we've seen and how there are so many ways for love to blossom-through criminal activity (Good Fellas), treachery and lies (No Way Out), romantic mishaps with other people (While You Were Sleeping), highly intense situations (Speed), and friendship. It's a strange thing. It's electricity, a feeling, a gut instinct…and you can't control it. It's taken me a long time to figure it out, but no matter how hard you try, no matter how much prudence you possess, love can sneak up behind you, tag you, and scream "you're it."

I also realized one last thing…

For years I was obsessed with the story of Pete Carter and his dog tags. I wondered what was running through his mind and shaped an interesting best friend scenario where he disappeared into the abyss over his loss of said best friend.

I've since realized that I created the wrong story all along.

It wasn't a Larry. It was a Lily, a girl he grew up with. They lived on the same block, played in the neighborhood together, but never really thought of each other on a deeper level. As they got older, they developed their own interests and watched each other try to figure out who they were. Spacy dated all these terrible girls-one wore purple eye shadow and another girl overused the word 'groovy'-before he enlisted in the army. Meanwhile Lily began to study Steinem and question the state of the world…protesting injustices and dating the perfect guy-Ivy League democrat. Lily and Spacy became complete opposites…She was a liberal; he was conservative. She was a pacifist and he was a member of the armed services.

But for some reason, although they should've long outgrown each other, they remained friends. Spacy accepted his future with courage and bravery, but worried he'd have no one to depend on, to turn to, to keep him sane in the midst of chaos. Lily tried to ease his fears by writing to him while he was away even though she hated what he was doing.

And once a week, no matter what was going on in her life, she wrote him. But he never replied. He would read it, fold it up, and stash it with the rest of them, enjoying the amazing letters filled with random trivia that took him away from the horrible things he was seeing.

I imagine Spacy debated sending the dog tags to Lily all along. Her letters never requested a reply, but he always wanted to, always having something to say to her that he couldn't articulate. Spacy wanted Lily to remember him, to have a way to show how much he cared without having to say the words and making himself vulnerable…but he never did.

By the time he returned home, things were different. Lily was older and engaged. He went to the wedding. He sat in the back, with her letters in his back pocket, silently debating whether or not to say anything.

He never did.

Until that day in the park when something snapped. Maybe a car passed by echoing their favorite song when they were thirteen. Or he saw me on my bike a little girl with pigtails that reminded him of Lily…or the childhood chum with the skinned-knees that offered him solace and humor when he didn't think it was possible.

So he clanged those dog tags in his hand one last time and realized that holding on to the past and agonizing over differences and avoiding vulnerability were insignificant. What mattered was the moment and finding a person that could complete you and help you find the good in any situation. Spacy flung the tags into my basket, smiled, and finally ridded himself of his fears.

I like to picture Spacy and Lily living on a farm or in Maine…a nice cliffside property where she writes feminist prose and he teaches at a small school. They still disagree on the small things, arguing about welfare or the type of car to purchase, but understand each other on the big things. They reminisce about the old days, but have learned to focus on the present and their future together.

Then again, I could be wrong. But whatever works, right? After all, it's a story still in progress.

feedback

to the epilogue

nsync stories