Chapter Eight
Laney has made me sit through the movie Send Me No Flowers about fifty thousand times. In my opinion, that's fifty thousand times too many, but don't even try to tell the girl that. Further more, I suggest refraining from making statements that refer to Rock Hudson as a big gay loser. She won't hear it. In fact, she nearly disowned me for saying it once (the only other time I ever saw her that close to rage was when I told a few of her classmates that she had a Luke Perry poster.).
There is this one scene where Rock Hudson is forced to endure an evening with his wife and the guy that he's picked for her to marry after he dies. See, the guy is a hypochondriac and thinks he's dying. He doesn't want his wife to be alone in the world so he sets out to find the perfect new husband for her. Then reality sinks in. It seems his wife actually gets along with one of the guys. (In a casual way. She doesn't quite understand her husband's motives.) Anyway, he sits there and watches her giggling with some jackass and suddenly regrets his decision to find her a replacement. He has these strange feelings that he's not used to dealing with and it pisses him off.
Well, I never understood the movie and that scene always seemed pretty stupid to me. Once you find the perfect girl, why would you want to share her with anyone? Why would you deliberately set out to see her end up in someone else's arms? Even if you're dying, at least, until the end, she's completely devoted to you. Like I said-I didn't get it. Laney always accused me of completely missing the point.
I was sitting in a dimly lit restaurant with probably the sexiest girl in the world sitting next to me, making me the envy of every guy in the immediate area, and I couldn't take my eyes off the way Spencer's hand was grazing Laney's forearm. He was practically on top of her while we were eating. I was picking at my pickle, watching the juice seep on to my French fries, and listening to Spencer talk about some "wild fraternity party" back in his heyday, when the thought struck me. I was like Rock Hudson's character in Send Me No Flowers-except Laney wasn't my wife and we were just buddies. But you get the idea.
I had no one to blame for what was going on but myself. I had some inane need to find Laney Jane a boyfriend and I had obviously succeeded, except I hated the guy. I hated his stupid stories that made both Britney and Laney laugh, I hated the way he wreaked of cigarette smoke, and I hated the way Laney was staring at him like he was oh-so-precious.
It made me sick.
"So Justin, Laney told me that you love Julia Roberts."
I glanced at Britney. I knew she liked the guy, but would it be wrong to shove my foot down his throat? Spencer continued, "I never really got into most of her movies, but she does have a sexy smile."
I shrugged, "I wouldn't know about that. I think she's a great actress. It's not about her looks."
"What are you talking about? You're always babbling about how hot Julia Roberts is," Laney replied.
I picked up a French fry, taking a small bite, and said curtly, "I do not."
"Oh please. You have your Julia Roberts movies organized by sexiest hair to ugliest and now you're going to pretend it's all about the acting," Laney countered.
I reached across the table and shoved a fry into her mouth, "You're the last one to talk about things like that."
Laney spit up the French fry and said innocently, "I have no clue what you're referring to."
I rolled my eyes and explained, "Let's see. I'm not the one who maintains that Rounders is a good movie."
I heard Spencer immediately pipe in, "I liked Rounders." Did this guy ever have an original thought? Why was he agreeing with everything she said like she was Saint Laney or something? One of Laney's best qualities was her ability to argue. Sometimes I would disagree with her just to get her started.
I was happy to see that Laney didn't even acknowledge him. She took a long sip of her soda and folded her arms, "That is a fabrication of the facts. I said it wasn't bad. I never used the words good movie."
"It was terrible, but you won't admit that…and why is that again?" I asked, my eyes glistening with just the right mix of cockiness and mischief.
"I will not admit that I'm as shallow as you are."
"No, you're worse than me," I said with a smug grin.
Laney waved me off with her hand, "Right. Do I need to bring up the myriad number of bad movies that I've had to withstand because Heather Graham is 'one sexy bitch'?"
I shook my head, "Nope. Not buying it. You loved Austin Powers and Two Girls and A Guy."
"Three Words for you Justin," Laney lifted three fingers and said slowly, "…Lost In Space."
I scowled and argued, "What about your Kevin Spacey fetish? Are we allowed to bring that up?"
"Are you insinuating that Kevin Spacey makes bad…" Laney paused and leaned so far across the table she was practically in my lap. She glared at me and finished her thought, "…that he makes bad movies?"
"You said it. I didn't." My grin grew even bigger. Now this was the Laney I knew and loved. My eyes wandered to Spencer. He was staring at me and then he glanced at Laney with wonderment. He had a real problem with his need to leer at people. Someone should mention it to him sometime; he looked like a creepy old guy. I forced myself to smile weakly in his direction, as if I was enjoying myself.
It didn't hurt that Laney seemed to have forgotten he was even there. She gave me the evil eye and demanded, "I didn't say he made bad movies, simpleton. You did. And I would like to know what movie you're declaring to be terrible. I've never seen a bad Kevin Spacey movie."
"Laney Jane, are you serious? Do I have to bring up Consenting Adults?"
"Oh God. It's too late, Spence. They're lost in their own world," Britney muttered before Laney could go on the defensive. Both Laney and I stopped our discussion momentarily to stare at her and she explained to Spencer, "Before you ask, the two of them are always like this. They can fight for hours about anything. I once witnessed an argument over the proper way to tie shoelaces that lasted a good hour. They seem to forget I'm even here."
Spencer laughed and replied, "Is that right? It appears that I'm learning something new about Laney every time we hang out."
I caught the aww-shucks look on both Britney and Laney's faces. Laney regained a normal position in the booth and gave Spencer a very inappropriate gaze. I glared at them and moaned, "We're eating. We're eating." I turned to Britney. Two could play the Laney game and I wiggled my eyebrows at my girlfriend. She didn't seem impressed with me. I squeezed Britney's leg and said, "Brit loves to watch Laney and I argue."
Britney shook her head and replied, "No, I'm pretty sure you're the only two crazies who enjoy arguing about things like shoelaces."
I picked up my glass of water and with my free hand pointed at Laney Jane. I accused, "She was teaching my brother an improper technique that would get him laughed off the playground."
"I was not. You were the one who had to sing the Bunny Rabbit song in order to even help him tie his shoes," Laney shook her head and added, "Poor Jon would have been labeled special."
"Are we going to do this in the middle of a restaurant? Why don't you bore us with some useless information about shoelaces while you're at it and then-" Spencer interrupted me before I could finish.
"Hey, why don't we talk about a less argumentative topic like the upcoming Presidential Election or Capital Punishment?"
Britney laughed. I stared at the guy, unable to believe that he was for real with this stuff. Luckily, Laney disregarded him. She smirked at me, "Oh, wound me, why don't you? If we're going to play the snippy game, maybe I should make some obnoxious comment about your ridiculous fashion sense?"
I folded my arms. I gave Spencer a knowing look--one to prove that I still understood Laney Jane better than he did--and replied, "Fine. Then I'll be forced to bring up a hazy memory I have of you and a clown at someone's sweet sixteen."
Laney jumped out of her seat. "I should kick your ass for that comment."
"As enjoyable as that sounds, cupcake, I'm going to pass. Although…" I stood up and peered down at Laney with an air of supremacy. I knew she could probably kick my ass (Ok, so she could definitely kick my ass), but I didn't care. I motioned in Spencer's direction and went on, "…maybe Spencer would like to see the violent side to your personality before he gets sucked in too deep."
Spencer raised his hands in self-defense, "Don't look at me. I like her the way she is."
"Isn't that adorable," I replied coldly. Spencer laughed. He laughed like he and I were buddies, like we were close because he had made a habit of molesting my best friend.
Britney seemed to recognize my annoyance and said, "You know what I think? I think that you and Laney like to hear the sound of your own voices."
"Or we annoy each other because of an unhealthy attachment to one another. Both answers work," Laney replied.
"You guys remind me of my best friend from junior high, Anthony Bonnato. My father referred to us as Siamese Twins. On weekends we stayed up and watched all-night movies. We'd be sprawled out on the carpet in our living room, eating Doritos and drinking Dr. Pepper. We'd both usually pass out around three in the morning and wake up with the television off. My dad would always come in and make sure we were okay. There's nothing like best friends growing up. Dude, those were some good times."
"Sounds nice," I said, only because Spencer was pouring out his whole goddamn life story to me like I cared. I wasn't sure what the hell I was supposed to do with that information or how it related to Laney and me. It was making me extremely paranoid. Why was he telling me this stuff? Was he trying to subtly say that I should back away from Laney because our relationship was too junior high? Or was he trying to make me like him? Did he know that I was almost positive that he was related to Charlie Manson?
Spencer lit a cigarette and I coughed in distaste. He replied, "Sorry. I'll try to blow the smoke somewhere else."
"Up your ass would be nice," I mumbled under my breath. Britney's elbow struck me below the ribcage and I winced.
"What was that?"
I noticed the angry look on Laney's face, not frustration or displeasure, but anger. I covered, "Thanks for being so polite."
Spencer shrugged like the perfect guy that the girls at our table thought he was and replied, "It's not a problem. Anyway, Anthony and I could argue about every movie we saw-anyone else remember the Goonies?"
Laney turned and laughed, "Oh my god. I love you. Someone else who appreciates that movie."
"I appreciate that movie," I muttered. I felt Britney's elbow knock into my flesh again. I glared at her.
Spencer's arm went around Laney's shoulders and he replied, "How can you not love a movie like that? I always wanted to be Brand. He ended up with Andy and I had such a crush on her."
"I always wanted to be Andy because she ended up with Brand," Laney replied.
"Oh, that's so cute," I mustered.
Laney shot me a dirty look, but Spencer continued to babble. The guy really couldn't take a hint, could he? "And the part of the movie where they play the skeleton bones as a piano and end up on the cool waterslide? That was the coolest thing in the world when I was younger. I tried to convince my friends that Boston had to have some sort of Pirate's cove."
It sounds like Laney picked quite the dork to date. I really wanted to know why someone thought this weird freak was a better choice than Travis had been. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, expecting me to continue this conversation. I said, "I guess if a guy isn't good at sports when he's growing up, that's something to do." Again Britney's elbow hit me. I turned to her and said, "Honey, can we stop with the love taps?"
"Honey, can we stop with the rude behavior?" she snapped.
My eyes locked on Laney momentarily. She didn't seem too happy with me at the moment. I gulped down the last of my water and replied, "I'm just saying that I was too busy when I was growing up to be concerned with things like pirate ships."
Laney folded her arms. "Actually, Justin, you and Spence could have a great conversation about basketball. He went all-state in his high school."
Oh, wasn't he perfect!
Spencer blew out a mouthful of smoke, a fire-breathing dragon at some Vegas sideshow, and said, "I think it's because I'm tall. My dad swears I was born six feet tall--tall and thin. Grade school basketball coaches loved me. I started to learn more about the game as I went and I stuck with it."
"Yeah, well, I had to go on skill most of the time. I was pretty short until I hit fourteen."
"Midget would be a more precise way to refer to Justin," Laney commented. I knew she was trying to lighten the conversation, but maybe it didn't need lightening.
I replied, "Shortstuff, are you sure you want to make a judgement like that?"
"Justin, were you this cranky all day or are we the lucky recipients of this sudden mood swing?" Laney asked.
"I'm not…" I decided to drop it. I was acting like a bit of an ass. I knew it. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop them. It was like this time we were interviewed for a German show. I had too much sugar that morning and I kept spattering out idiotic comments along the lines of "I love the sound of a basketball being dribbled." I took a deep breath. I tried to ignore Smokey the Bear and glanced from Britney to Laney. I said, "…So the Goonies. I vaguely remember that movie. I think we've seen it."
"No. I never saw that movie with you, J," Laney replied.
"There's a movie we haven't seen together?"
Laney nodded, "Shocking, isn't it?"
"But I remember it…I think."
"Nope. Maybe you saw it with Britney or someone else."
I shook my head. I rarely went to movies without Laney, especially when we were younger. I felt like it was some sort of betrayal. I knew Laney probably wouldn't care, but the idea of it worried me. Besides, it was never as fun without her. She and I liked the same offbeat stuff and we both liked to rip them apart with theories and opinions. Everyone else's vocabulary was usually limited to good or bad. I replied, "I guess."
Spencer put out his cigarette and replied, "Dude, if you haven't already, definitely see that movie. I don't know if it's because I really enjoyed it as a kid or what, but I still love it. It's a great film."
"I still watch it too. I have the video and pull it out from time to time. You and I will have to watch it together," Laney said to Spencer.
I watched in horror as Laney patted Spencer's hand. I was going to throw up my half-eaten dinner all over the table if I had to witness much more of this. Before Spencer could reply with some overly cutesy comment, I heard myself say, "Yeah. What a good movie that was. So good. We should all watch it together. Why, just talking about it makes me want to run out right now and watch it again. Maybe you could go and rent it for us, Spence?"
"What is wrong with you?" Laney snapped.
"Why would something be wrong with me?" I asked innocently. I knew the answer and it began with an "S" but I wasn't going to say that out loud. It would only get me in more trouble. I offered Laney a fake smile and questioned, "Is there a reason you think there's something wrong with me?"
"Do you mean besides the fact that you're acting like a horse's ass, J?" Laney answered shortly.
I looked to Britney for support since my best friend had become some girly freak while I was away. I gave her my best do-you-believe-what-Laney-is-saying pout, but she seemed even more pissed off than Laney was. Meanwhile Spencer was sitting there with this dumbfounded expression on his face, like he had never seen someone get yelled at before. I gritted out, "Don't push this, Laney Jane."
"I'm not pushing anything. I'm pointing out that you're being rude."
"I'm being rude? I'M BEING RUDE?"
"Justin, lower your voice," Britney demanded.
"What is your problem, J?" Laney asked.
I shrugged, "I'm apparently rude because I don't give a shit about the movie The Goonies and I'm not exactly in the mood to take part in pick-on-Justin night, Laney. So sorry! It was real nice hanging with you, Spencer. Thanks for poisoning my lungs with your cancer on a stick." I ripped my wallet out of my back pocket, dropped a bunch of money on the table, and said, "I'm outta here." I started to walk off and called out, "Brit, are you coming?"
I caught Britney exchanging looks with Laney and I yelled, "Brit? If you'd prefer, I can leave you here."
She stood up, grabbed her jacket, and walked right past me, "I should leave you here, you big jackass."
I took long strides along side of her and jumped into the limousine that we had come in. I could see the fury etched on Britney's face, but I wasn't going to apologize. This was her fault. She was the one who had forced a stupid double date down my throat. She was the one who hadn't prepared me for the current situation. She was the one who had gone out and found Laney her very own Mr. Perfect.
I hummed along to the radio, trying to get lost in the lyrics of the Violent Femmes. "…I'll take one, one, one cuz you left me…and two, two, two for my family…and three, three, three for my heartache…four, four, four for my headaches…and five, five, five for my lonely…"
The song ended suddenly as Britney flicked the radio off. She folded her arms and seethed, "Are you going to explain what the hell happened back there or are you going to sulk all night?"
"I can't believe Laney."
"I can't believe you. Laney was right. You acted like a bastard, Justin."
"I acted like a bastard? Spencer practically made me sick with his cigarette."
"You could have asked him to put it out if it was such a big deal," Britney countered. She inched closer on the seat and took my hand. She asked, "What was up with you tonight? Normally you're the first person to make someone feel comfortable and tonight you went out of your way to treat Spencer like crap."
"I did no such thing. Is there some unwritten law that states Justin Timberlake has to like everyone he meets? I don't. I don't like him."
"You didn't even give yourself a chance to like him, Justin."
I rolled my eyes and slammed my fist into the empty leather upholstery next to me, "What the fuck are you talking about? What do you care if I like Spencer O'Grady or not? He's some Jive employee that keeps talking about his friends from junior high. What was that about anyway, huh?"
"It's like I'm talking to air. Do you even hear yourself, J?"
I tossed my baseball cap off and ran my fingers through my curls. I lowered my head to my knees and replied, "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at Laney for acting like a complete flake back there and I'm taking it out on you…"
Britney pulled her hand away from mine as if I had burnt her, "God forbid you get mad at me or experience any deep feelings for me at all."
My head shot up. This was the last thing I needed--some cryptic message from Britney that I was undoubtedly supposed to understand. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and whispered hoarsely, "What?"
Britney pushed herself away from me, moving to the far end of the limousine, and shot me a sickening look…like I could infect her with some deadly virus. I watched her bottom lip tremble and her upper teeth quickly clamped down into her flesh so not to give her away. Britney never could be seen as weak in front of anyone, not even me.
I repeated more vehemently, "What?"
Britney glared at me, "Just once when you're with me, I would like you to be with me, Justin."
I looked upwards for some sort of benevolent guidance. None came. I inched my way over towards Britney. I was still pissed off about the whole Laney thing, but I hated seeing Britney upset. If I were going to be honest, I'd admit that I was always grateful that Britney wouldn't allow herself to be weak in front of me. I couldn't stand to watch her cry. I was never good at things like that. The only thing I could offer was words. I reached for her hand and she pulled it away. She mumbled, "No."
I frowned, "Brit, I'm sorry but-"
"Doesn't matter."
"Britney, this isn't about you. Hell, I'm not sure it's about Laney. I'm jet-lagged and I was expecting to have a quiet night with you…instead, I end up having this new guy thrust at me and I don't know what to make of it."
Britney sighed, "Did you ever think it's because you have feelings for Laney?"
"WHAT?" I scoffed. I wrapped my arm around her. I kissed the side of her head and said, "No that's not it. Maybe it's a bit weird to see her with a guy in that way, but it's because I'm not used to sharing Laney. That's all it is, Brit. She's my friend and I worry, but…maybe I was too hard on Spencer. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I would never purposely hurt you, Brit."
"I don't-"
I shut her up with a long, gentle kiss. My fingertips glided over her cheeks and I tried to keep my mind completely focused on Britney. I didn't want to feel the anger resurface or remember the way Spencer was touching Laney. That would have to wait. I needed to concentrate on Britney. I needed to remain focused on my relationship with the perfect girl for me. I couldn't let Britney get away. It would be the dumbest mistake I ever made, allowing the one girl who really understood my life to walk away because of my leftover anxiety from Hawaii. No. I wasn't going to prove everyone right about my inability to be a good boyfriend. Stay tuned to Britney's energy, I ordered myself.
Britney's fingers pulled at my curls and she whispered in my ear, "I love you, Justin. I really love you."
"Me too," I replied. My hand stroked the back of her head, the hairs tickling my palms, and I continued, "And you're right. I acted like a jerk tonight."
Britney laid her head on my shoulder. She smiled up at me and shrugged, "We're all used to it."
I scowled, "Thanks."
"Well, we are. You've never been quite as bad as you were tonight, but there will be other opportunities for you to amaze Spencer with your pleasant self."
My muscles tensed at the thought. I shrugged it off and replied, "I guess…Maybe I should find Laney and apologize?"
Britney's face went void. I couldn't see any signs of emotion. I was about to question it, when she smiled weakly. She cupped her hands around my face and kissed me. I knew she was crying because I could taste the salt on my lips. She said, "Maybe you should."
I stared at her. I couldn't decide if this was one of those "I'm so happy" moments or if Britney was really upset with me. I had a gnawing feeling it was the latter. I squeezed her hand and asked gently, "Brit? Britney, what's wrong?"
She wiped the bandit tears away from her eyes and smiled. She replied, "Nothing's wrong. I guess I'm tired too."
I kissed her cheek and stroked her hair as the limo came to a stop in front of the hotel. I said, "I'm going to head over to Laney's dorm room and apologize for my behavior. I don't want to give her an opportunity to think up some elaborate plot for revenge to teach me a lesson."
"You know her pretty well, don't you?"
"Well, she's one of my best friends," I replied dubiously. First Britney asked me if I had feelings for Laney and then I was being asked about how well I knew Laney. Call it smarts or intuition, but I was getting the impression that this wasn't a good conversation to have in a limousine after a bad night. I added, "I'll come by your hotel room once I've talked to Laney and fixed things. Trust me when I say I can't let this go too long with her. Laney holds a grudge."
"Go handle things with, Laney. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Is that a real go handle things…or is that the go handle things where I'm supposed to know not to leave you right now?"
"I'm not trying to manipulate you, J," she snapped. She tapped on the glass for the driver to let her out of the limousine.
I glared at her, "I didn't say you were. I was asking if you wanted me to stay."
"But then Laney would be mad…" Britney's voice trailed off. She rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry. You're not the only one that's tired. Go fix things with Laney."
"I can wait if you want-"
Britney offered me a small smile, "Nah. You'll be miserable all night if you leave this hanging over your head."
"I'll go tomorrow-"
"J, you'll be terrible company until this is resolved. I know you. You'll freak yourself out with possibilities and I'll get no sleep at all…." Britney slid over towards the door. She shook her head and replied, "…and like I said, I'm really tired. Maybe we should both get some sleep tonight. Come by tomorrow morning at eight. We can have a private breakfast before my eleven o'clock meeting."
I nodded and reached for her hand, but she recoiled from my touch. I called out, "B, are you mad at me about this?"
"Would it matter?"
"Of course it matters…look, let me find Laney Jane and apologize. I didn't mean anything I said tonight. I was in a bad mood, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I love you and I don't want to see you upset."
Britney chuckled and mumbled, "I'll see you tomorrow, J. We'll talk then, okay?"
She didn't wait for an answer. The door slammed shut behind her and through the tinted glass I watched Britney stroll into the hotel without waiting for Tim or a glance at any of the fans. I knew she was mad at me and I would have to make it up to her later, but first I had to handle Laney. I had to get control of our thing before it got really ugly.
I tapped on the glass separator and told the chauffeur the address of Laney's dorm. The limo started to merge back on to the street and I had an ingenious idea. I called to the chauffeur and told him to make a pit stop. I needed to fix things with her and if that meant giving stupid Spencer a chance, I would have to do it.
It didn't mean that I had to like it.
Yes, that's Justin's idea of an apology all right. He never means anything he does and tries to cover it up with meaningless words. If they gave awards for the person with the biggest blinders on, it would go to Justin Timberlake. Sometimes I wonder if he actually feels the things he says.
I wasn't exactly thrilled with him after his dramatic exit from the restaurant. I spent the next half hour trying to convince Spencer that Justin wasn't usually the prick that he came across as that night and that Justin didn't hate him. I don't think I was very convincing on either point, because, quite frankly, I wasn't sure what had just ensued.
"Laney, it's okay. You keep apologizing for him and it's really not necessary," Spencer said as we walked down the street towards my dormitory.
I shook my head in disagreement and turned around to face him. I continued to walk backward down the street and replied, "But I do because Justin isn't normally like this. He can be a pain in the ass and has a tendency to talk without thinking, but tonight he was acting like a spoiled brat."
Spencer sped up, closing the distance between us. He leaned in and smiled, "It doesn't matter. Some people don't make friends instantly and it must be especially hard to be in his position. He's probably wary of new people."
I swallowed the "ha" that had lumped together in my throat. There was no need to explain to Spencer that as long as you didn't grab him or scream in his ear, Justin pretty much liked everyone. He would talk to the homeless guy on the street if he had something he wanted to say. It was one of his greatest attributes. I was always envious of that ability to make anyone feel completely comfortable and act as if talking with this person provided a great significance to his life. Not to mention, Justin had always been nice to my friends-except Steph, but that was a mutual thing. No…there was something else going on. He was too abhorrent even by Justin standards and it was causing a dull pain inside my skull.
My eyes wandered to the sky as I tried to clear my head. My thoughts kept going back to Justin. What the hell was his problem? He had been fine while we were at Britney's hotel, but somewhere between the hotel and the restaurant, he had become possessed by an egocentric ass. I strained to omit the evening from my memory banks--skimming the darkness for a decent view over the tall buildings and fluorescent lights. There were rarely stars visible in the city though. It was one of the things I missed about Orlando. At home, on a clear night, you could get lost in the clumps of stars that glittered the skin of the evening sky.
Spencer followed my vision and asked, "What are we looking at?"
"I was trying to see the stars..." I paused and shot a sideward glance at Spencer. I sighed, "…I should've known better."
"Ah…well, well. It seems that there's a dreamer trapped inside that cynic's body. You can't hide it forever, Laney," Spence replied. He stopped walking and turned around. He gestured at the blackened heavens above us and explained, "The key is to find Ursa Major."
"Ursa Major?" I repeated. It sounded vaguely familiar; like it was similar to doctor speak. For example, I had heard the word cardio infarction before, but normal people referred to it as a heart attack. Spencer seemed to be spouting off technical science words and I felt a bit stupid.
"The Big Dipper," he replied with a smile. He took my hand and guided it towards a large cluster of stars that were barely visible.
"You realize that this stuff is lost on me, right?"
"You're a smart girl, Laney. I'm sure even you can understand the basics," he joked.
My eyes met his for a moment and I replied, "You're obviously confusing me with some other scientific bobo. Seriously Spence, Justin and I have watched Can't Buy Me Love about fifty times and that's the closest to understanding astronomy that I've ever come. Ask me to write a dissertation on the effects that the Canterbury Tales had on modern day literature, but stay away from the scientific jargon. My brain ceases to work when it comes to things like understanding the stars beyond simple sentences like 'They're pretty'."
Spencer stood behind me and said, "Nah. You haven't had the right teacher, Laney."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure that's my problem."
His hand fell on top of mine as we traced the air, as if we could touch the stars. He said, "The Big Dipper is a cluster of stars…see the handle of the Dipper? According to some Native American legends, the bowl of the Big Dipper is a giant bear and the stars of the handle are three warriors chasing it. It was said that the hunters had injured the bear and its blood caused the trees to change the color of the leaves to red during autumn."
There was something about Spencer at that moment. For the first time, I didn't feel as odd for the strange tidbits of information that bogged down my brain half the time. It appeared that he was the same way as I was as he nonchalantly traced the outline of a cup in the air and continued, "Did you know that the Big Dipper was an important part of the Underground Railroad? There were songs spread among the slave population referring to the 'Drinking Gourd.' The songs said to follow it to get to a better life. It was a message for the slaves to flee northward."
I stared at him with amazement on my face. I wasn't sure where this guy had come from and I still hadn't decided if it was prudent to have him stick around, but his existence was inscrutable. When I thought I had him figured out, Spencer did something else that made me wonder if a Mr. Perfect really did exist. I asked, "How do you know all this stuff?"
Spencer nodded dispassionately and answered, "My father was an astronomy geek. My friends had dads that would play baseball with them. My father took my brother and me to the Planetarium…See, it was pretty easy to find. If we were out in the country, on a really dark night, it would be a lot easier to find."
My eyes wandered up to the sky again and I said, "No offense, but I don't see that happening."
"Just takes a bit of imagination."
"I think tonight has my mind on overload. I'll never remember where the Big Dipper is anyway."
Spencer stared at me in a way that made me feel like I was standing on a street in New York naked. It was unnerving and made me want to run the other way, never glancing back. I'd had several moments like that in the past two weeks where he was concerned. To me Spencer was becoming like what I imagined crack was like for junkies. I knew it was probably damaging to my well being, hurting me in some way with problems that wouldn't arise until long after my addiction was nullified, but sometimes I felt like I needed to be around him.
Spencer's grin enlarged, his teeth visible, and he moved my hand over a dim cluster of stars. He explained, "Find those stars…and move your hand down in a straight line for a bit…" My hand moved across the air in front of us. I worried that I was going to smack a passerby on the street, but it was oddly unpopulated. He whispered in my ear, his breath stinging my neck, "…and it leads you to the North Star."
His hand slid away from mine and he stared up at the sky. He reminded me of a young boy discovering the sky for the first time. His eyes appeared to dismiss the buildings and smog and he said, "From there, move to the left and you've got Orion…or go down and to the right and you have Pegasus."
I stared at him blankly. I felt my lips curve into a smile and I nudged him, "I had no idea I was spending time with an astronomy geek, Spence."
Spencer pulled me against him. My arms tingled with excitement and strangeness. Even after two weeks of adapting to his contiguity, my stomach dropped and nervousness overwhelmed me. His hand grazed my arm and he replied, "I'm afraid it's true. Not only am I a compound fanatic, but I'm the quintessential dreamer. I take after my father like that. He used to say 'no matter what problems are going on in your life, look at the stars, Spencer. It makes everything seem trivial compared to the world above us'." Spencer chuckled and quickly added, "I remember how he would tell me stories about other planets and the man in the moon."
I laughed, "Oh, you really were a big dork."
Spencer's face contorted into mock horror. He folded his arms and he countered, "Not a dork-a dreamer."
"Uh-huh…all dorks try to disguise their inane behavior," I said. I started to walk again as my mind drifted back to Justin's tantrum at dinner. I couldn't reason it away and it was bothering me.
Spencer walked along the street and asked, "Are you okay?"
I shrugged. Justin's excoriations were out of the blue and uncalled for. I knew I should let it go; it's not like Justin's opinion of Spencer mattered, right? Of course not. He was being an obnoxious oaf. I wasn't sure I was fooling Spencer though because I hardly bought the careless shrug myself. The truth was that I wouldn't be okay until I could get my hands around Justin's neck and throttle him. After all, this was what Justin wanted. He wanted me to be paired off with someone and then he acted like Spencer was Satan in disguise. And things were only going to get worse. I had a weird feeling-like turbulence beating at my brain.
"Laney, if this is about Justin again, don't worry about it. I'm not."
"He's normally a great guy."
"I know. You've told me a hundred times. I think he was surprised. I mean, the two of us surprises me," Spencer replied.
I nodded in agreement, "Me too."
Spencer's hand slid down my arm and his fingers entangled with my own. It was a simple move, but the importance of it dumbed me down. I was suddenly acting very romantic. I mean if people passed us on the street, Spencer and myself looked like the posterboys for the cutesy couple foundation.
We walked in silence back towards my dormitory. That was the best thing about Spencer. A few times he had come by my room and we had listened to music and read in silence…another time we had gone on a walk through Central Park without uttering a sentence. I don't think words can describe how completely extraordinary that is. A lot of people will chatter on about the most infinitesimal things to keep a conversation going. It was an appreciated change of pace not to have to worry about being charming or funny and just enjoying the view.
I motioned to my building and said, "Well, tonight was…hell."
Spencer rolled his eyes, "Would you stop worrying about it! I'm a big boy, Laney. Justin's behavior doesn't bother me."
"Well, he shouldn't have acted like that. It was uncalled for," I said, my arms hugging myself.
"Nah. If I had a best friend as pretty as you, I'm not sure I'd like other guys fawning all over her. In fact, I don't think I like the idea of other guys fawning all over you anyhow," Spencer replied.
My face flushed and my head wobbled slightly. I decided to overlook most of what he had said. As it was, I would probably replay it in my head about a thousand times instead of sleeping. I said, "Oh please. Everyone always assumes things like that about me and Justin and I don't get it."
Spencer shot me a doubtful look, like who was I trying to kid, and replied, "Don't look at me. I'm grateful that you and Justin are just friends." Spencer leaned down and kissed my forehead. He stared at me for a minute, allowing me to get lost in the sheer color of his eyes, and kissed me briefly on the lips.
Oh god. This was getting out of hand.
I had a plan. I had planned to stay focused on school. I had promised myself that I would never be given to public displays filled with mushy sentiment and tenderness (And really, chicken is tender. People shouldn't be.) that was better kept anywhere else but around me. I used to watch Justin and Britney and get physically nauseous. I once caught them feeding each other and swore that I would never get that caught up in someone else.
I think the real problem with Spencer was that so far I had no excuse to drop him like a hot potato. Alan had been a real freak. He would yell at me for being too verbal-which, in fairness, he really should have known since we met at a speech event-and suffered from a profuse sweating problem. Most of the other guys I met didn't even make it past first glance. They always suffered from some array of problems ranging from an Oedipus complex to strange fetishes that involved toe sucking.
I felt Spencer's hands on my shoulders. He pulled me out of my inner battle and said, "I have an eight am breakfast meeting with the Jive marketing bigwigs. I should get going."
"Okay."
"I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer of watching the Goonies."
I smiled, "It sounds good. I have my Mid Eastern politics class from four until seven, but after that, I'm free."
I watched Spencer walk off down the street until a taxi and a large group of people exiting from the subway entrance obscured him from my vision. I turned to enter my building and I saw Justin standing there with a scowl on his face. His head was down as not to draw attention to himself, but I would recognize his lanky frame anywhere.
I immediately felt my fist curl into a ball. I moved over to him and gritted out, "I don't think you should be the one with the pissed off expression on his face, J."
Justin lifted his chin slightly so that he was at eye level with me. His eyes shone with pitiable woe. I had seen that pathetic look plenty of times before. Whenever he had done something inexcusable, he would make his eyes glisten with sorrow and, for some reason inexplicable to my intellectual capabilities, I always gave in a smidgen. And Justin knew this.
I folded my arms, as if I could give myself strength against his apologetic expression, and said, "Don't even try that stupid look. You were down right rude tonight."
Justin nodded and asked, "Laney Jane, I know that I was a jackass, okay? I'm more than willing to subject myself to one of your long-winded tirades and any other tortures you devise, but can we take this inside? I'm freezing and people are beginning to assume I'm homeless."
"Too bad some teenies didn't rip your curls out strand by strand," I snapped, sliding my ID card through the door lock.
"Ouch, Laney. Point well taken," Justin replied, leaning against the side of the building. He shoved his hands into his pockets and went on, "Would you talk to me, Laney? Please?"
I opened the door. Justin didn't move, which was odd for him. He stood there with an almost stoic gaze directed on the street. Normally when I was mad at him, Justin would force himself down my throat, as if I'd get so annoyed with his present conduct that I'd forget what I was mad at about in the first place. I stared at him and he gave me another equally pathetic look. I asked sharply, "Are you coming or what?"
I caught his smug grin, which disappeared rather quickly, and he followed me to the elevator. I had so much I wanted to say to him, but I held it all in. I could give him the benefit of the doubt. I could allow him to apologize and explain. I could be the bigger person.
It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.
We rode the elevator in silence. I observed Justin fidgeting in his spot for the four-floor ride and as the doors opened we banged right into each other trying to exit. We were acting like two complete strangers. Pardon the pun, but we were out of synch. I rubbed my elbow and complained, "Could your body get any more bony? Good god!"
Justin glared at me while he clutched at his stomach, "I'd swear you did that on purpose, if I didn't know you better, Laney Jane."
"If I wanted to hurt you, Justin, I would slug you," I countered. I jiggled my arm to rid myself of the pain and added, "That really hurt."
"Don't blame me, klutzy."
I placed my hands on my hips and scowled, "I'm the klutz? Justin, have you ever heard of being a gentleman? I would think you could let me off the elevator first."
"I tried, but the feminist in you didn't move. So before the doors closed, I was going to get off the damn elevator!" Justin patted his stomach and went on, "I think you dislodged my small intestine, Laney Jane."
I moved his hand away from his chest and said, "The small intestine is over here, Mr. Wizard."
Justin pouted, "Like I'm a doctor."
"Thank god for small favors. I can only imagine the look of horror on someone's face if they saw you hovered over them with a scalpel. Cue the creepy music," I replied. I observed a few girls at the end of the hall watching the spectacle that was Justin and I. I went to nudge Justin in the side, but he swatted my hand away, muttering under his breath like a crazy person.
Our eyes locked on each other and we burst out laughing. I'm not sure what we were laughing at and I knew that I shouldn't have been exchanging chuckles with him at the moment. I mean I didn't want him thinking he was off the hook that easily. Damn idiot owed me an explanation.
Justin stopped laughing and pointed at me, "I can't believe you tried to blame me for the elevator. That was all you, girl."
"You would think that you would let me lead the way for once in our relationship."
"And why would I do that when I'm a skilled leader?" Justin challenged.
I rolled my eyes and started to walk down the hall towards my room. I called out, "Because you can never remember which room is mine and, while I know Jamal and Greg love it when you burst into their room quoting Julia Roberts movies, it's kinda sad that you haven't figured it out yet."
"I know it's not your room. I get distracted by the huge poster of Pamela Anderson Lee they've got hanging on their door," Justin paused when he caught my disgusted look. He smiled, "It's a work of art, Laney Jane."
"You date a girl who many would consider to be one of the most beautiful people on earth and you're drooling over a picture of a woman who was on Baywatch. Baywatch, Justin! She made her living running around in a bathing suit with David Hasselhoff. That should tell you something." I unlocked the door to my room. I kicked my roommate's clothes away to create a path and motioned for Justin to come in.
"Whoa, have I entered a war zone?"
"Yeah, it's called my roommate is a spastic slob," I moaned. I removed my coat and put it on top of my desk chair. I hopped on my bed, watching Justin's eyes roam over the room like he'd never been here before, thus beginning his do-anything-to-avoid-admitting-I'm-an-ass routine.
"It adds a nice touch to the ambiance," Justin joked.
"I'm shocked you know what ambiance means," I replied.
Justin turned my desk chair around and fell into it. He rested his arms on the shoulder of the chair and finally said, "I know you're mad at me-"
"That's an understatement."
"Would you please let me finish?" He waited for me to nod and continued, "I acted like a jerk and I'm really sorry, Laney. I'm-I think you and Spencer threw me off. Neither you nor Britney mentioned that you had started dating someone when we were on the phone and I was surprised."
"I thought you put Britney in charge of finding me a boyfriend?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Justin laid his chin on top of his arms and tried to twist his face into mock-surprise. He replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've never been a good liar, Justin."
"I could lie to you if I wanted," Justin whined.
"I'm not sure if I should be comforted by that kernel of knowledge or not," I shifted on the bed so that I was directly in front of Justin. I stared him down and asked, "What is going on with you?"
"Like I said-"
"I'm not talking about tonight. Things have been weird between us for awhile now, J."
"If this is about the setting you up, I thought it-"
"Cut the crap. What is going on?"
He hid his face in his arms and mumbled incoherently. I pulled his arms away, his chin hitting the top of the chair. He winced and replied, "Thanks."
"Justin, you either tell me what's going on or this is it. I won't ever talk to you again," I said. I hoped he didn't call my bluff. I wasn't sure I could really go through with it, but after that evening, it didn't seem like an impossibility.
"How have I been acting weird?" he asked.
"How? We can start with this mysterious desire to find me a boyfriend that started after Hawaii. You're suddenly Joan Rivers making comments about my clothing and hair and then I catch you staring at me like I'm an alien."
"I do not stare," Justin protested. He shook his head ardently and said, "Why would I stare at you? You're my Laney Jane. I've-I've known you forever."
"Well, you have been."
"Then I didn't mean to," he exclaimed.
I sighed and decided to ask what I had feared since dinner with Dennis back in January. It was highly embarrassing, but since when had that ever stopped me before. I questioned, "Do you think I like you?"
"Well, I certainly hope so. I'd hate to think we were friends who hated each other."
"No moron. What I'm trying-do you think I'm-you're not under the impression that I'm infatuated with you, are you?" I watched Justin carefully. He had a very expressive face and I would have my answer before he even uttered a word. To my surprise, his face was blank-not just blank, but pale. I wasn't sure what the hell that meant. I was suddenly worried I would have to endure a "you're a great girl, Laney, but…" speech and added hurriedly, "Because I don't think of you like that, I mean, you're not unattractive but-"
Justin's face momentarily flashed with amusement and I babbled on, "…but I'm not…we're friends-good friends, but that's it. So if you've been worried that you needed to find someone to get me off your back-"
"Laney, no, you're not on my back…I don't think you," his face turned bright red. I wasn't sure if he was aware of it, but I pretended not to notice. He cleared his throat, "I never assumed that you had a crush on me. I was-I have Britney, ya know?"
I wasn't sure if that was a rhetorical question or not.
Justin cleared his throat again like he had a volleyball crammed in there and went on, "Britney is amazing. She understands my life and we connect. I've known her for what feels like forever…but sometimes I worry that you think I keep you around for when Britney's busy."
"I never-"
Justin cut me off, "No, see, I just…I don't want their to be any confusion between us. After Hawaii, Dana cornered me and told me to stop using you when Britney wasn't around. I don't want you to think that. You aren't some consolation that I hang out with when everyone else is unavailable. I guess I figured if you had someone it might make things…I thought you might be lonely. I thought you might resent the fact that I'm not always the best friend to you or there for you like I should be. I know you've been trying to lessen your role in my life and I thought, probably stupidly, that it was because you didn't have a boyfriend in your life."
A twinge of guilt coursed through my veins. I guess I had been pretty vague with him lately because that's how I was feeling about our friendship-vague. I could understand where he was coming from-I had used ominous words like "need to talk" without explanation-and some of my anger over the evening evaporated. Don't get me wrong, I was still mad, but not as vehemently as a few minutes ago.
Justin reached for my hand and added, "I want you to be happy, Laney. I worry about you a lot."
I rolled my eyes, "You always have to go in for that last overly-dramatic line, don't you?"
Justin squeezed my hand, "It's true."
I shrugged, "I guess we've both been acting really weird lately."
"Maybe it's a part of friendship. Who knows," Justin replied.
"Well, it's a stupid part of friendship then. I like things simple."
Justin laughed, "That's a lie. You're never satisfied with simple."
I crossed my arms, "I could be. You don't know."
Justin squeezed my hand again. He said, "How about we make a deal? We go back to what we're good at and to hell with everything else."
I smiled in spite of my best attempts not to, reminding myself this didn't excuse his treatment of Spencer. I replied, "It might work, but stop with the protective vibes. You're not my father and I can take care of myself."
"I know you can, but you're not so damn tough, Laney Jane. Someone has to watch out for you."
I asked, "Is that what you were doing tonight?"
Justin picked at his nails and said, "I honestly don't know what I was doing tonight."
"It seemed like you were being a bastard."
Justin stared at me for what felt like forever. I couldn't decide if this was his newest tactic in groveling or if he was really upset about something. He finally shut his eyes, rubbing his temples, and tried to explain, "I'm not sure why-I'm really sorry, Laney. That's all I can say. I'll apologize to Spencer too if you want…"
"If I want? He's the one you acted like an obnoxious ass around."
"I don't trust him, Laney. There is something weird about him."
"What? That he likes me?"
"That's not what I meant, Laney Jane, and you know it."
I shrugged and leaned back on my bed, staring at a brown stain on the tiling, "Well, that's what you said."
Justin stood up and repositioned himself on the edge of the bed next to me. He laid down and stared at the same spot on the ceiling that I was engrossed with. He replied softly, "I did not say that. There is no doubt in my mind why he likes you, Laney. Lots of guys like you."
I choked out a laugh and replied, "Sure they do. I've been holding them back with shovels."
Justin rolled his eyes. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and he was staring at me again. My hand ran across my mouth, like I had something stuck to my teeth that needed removal, and wondered if this was part of his plan. He would freak me out with strange gawking until I forgot why I had been mad at him in the first place. I ordered myself not to be influenced by his strange behavior or sweet words.
Dammit, I could stay mad at Justin Timberlake. If I could stay mad at my sisters for far less terrible atrocities, I could remain angry with Justin.
"Laney Jane, I don't think-I don't want to see you get hurt. The look in Spencer's eyes during dinner was practically pornographic. It freaked me out a bit.
I grabbed a pillow next to me and hit Justin on the head. I laughed out loudly and repeated, "Pornographic?"
Justin sat up and rubbed his jaw where the pillow had hit him. He picked up my teddy bear and said, "Yes, like this." It was a bit frightening to watch Justin leer at my teddy bear. I pulled the stuffed animal away from him and he said, "And that was my reaction as well. It was creepy. He could be a date rapist or serial killer for all we know."
"He works for Jive, Justin."
"So?"
"They wouldn't let him near you or Britney if he had homicidal tendencies. So put your overactive imagination to rest. Spencer is no threat to you or me," I replied. I turned to face Justin and added, "And don't think you're off the hook, Justin. You owe Spencer an apology."
"I will. I will. I'll call him tomorrow-"
"Do it in person," I ordered.
"Laney, like I have a lot of…" his voice trailed off. He yawned and said, "Fine. I'll do it in person. I'm sure he'll be in touch with Britney at some point tomorrow."
"I'm shocked she's still talking to you. She looked almost as pissed off as I was."
Justin groaned. He stretched out on my bed, tossing my teddy bear into the air over and over, and said, "Oh, she was pissed alright, but she'll forgive me. She always does."
"That's a good philosophy, J."
"We're having breakfast tomorrow morning-just the two of us. I'll make it up to her then," Justin answered calmly.
"Do something nice for her," I said, watching him continue to toss the bear in the air.
"I will. I always do."
I caught the bear and pointed it at him, "No. I mean something nice for her, Justin. Don't do something to make yourself feel less guilty or to get what you want. Do something for Britney."
"One date and suddenly you're Dear Abby?"
"Just because I don't go through relationships like toilet paper, doesn't mean I don't know what women want."
Justin smiled smugly at me. "Women want me, baby."
I groaned, "Such an ego."
Justin started to go through the CDs on the table next to my bed. His grin grew wider, full of even more smugness, and he replied arrogantly, "Notice you didn't say you didn't want me."
"Whatever."
Justin's face grimaced with disgust and he held up a CD by its corner, as if it were contaminated. He questioned, "What the hell is this?"
"It's a Fine Young Cannibals CD."
His nose scrunched up with distaste and he tossed the CD aside. He shook his head like he was concerned for my mental state and replied, "I know what it is…but what the hell is it doing in your room? Why do you own a Fine Young Cannibals CD?"
"I don't. It's Spencer's album. He was helping me make a mix tape for my sister."
"And he used that? Does he hate your sister?"
"No, but he brought it over."
"And you're trying to convince me the guy is normal. Normal guys don't own that CD, Laney Jane."
I grabbed my pillow and hit him again, "This coming from a guy who still listens to New Kids On The Block."
Justin picked up a pillow to shield himself. He whacked me in the side and countered, "This coming from the girl who wrote a 'Roses Are Red' poem to Donnie Wahlberg."
"Oh, this means war," I swung at him. He ducked and ran over to the other side of the room. He picked up my roommate's pillow and came at me like he was some sort of martial arts guy using pillows instead of swords. I shrieked and called out, "Cheater."
"You're upset because I grabbed it first," Justin replied, swinging at me. His pillows knocked mine out of my hands.
I went to reach for it, but Justin jumped in front of me. I pulled at one of his pillows, but he was stronger than me. I growled before I finally let go, and Justin fell backwards. He groaned as he hit the floor and then he didn't move. His arms and legs were sprawled out and his eyes were shut.
"Justin, stop faking," I demanded.
He didn't move. I glanced around. He hadn't hit his head on any furniture. He was fine. He was acting like an idiot. I moved over next to him and his eyes were still shut. There was no trace of mischief on his face, no corners of his mouth twisted into a smile, no shaking from laughing. I said, "I'm serious, J. Stop this right now. It's not funny."
When he didn't reply, I knelt down. I shook him. "Justin, I'm going to dress you up in drag and take pictures if you don't get up now." When he still didn't move, I started to get a bit worried. I went on, "J? I mean it. Stop it. God…what did I do?" Shit, I thought, I fucking killed him. I shook him a little harder as panic set in. I turned to face the door wondering what the hell to do. He must've hit his head on the hardwood floor when he fell and it was all my fault. No one would believe it was an accident. I'd be shipped off to San Quentin and Nsync fans everywhere would clamor for me to get the death penalty for killing their future husband.
Unbeknownst to me, Justin had sat up while I was lost in deep thoughts of my life as a convicted murderer. I turned back around towards him and shrieked. He fell backwards again, this time in laughter. I reached for the pillows and began to pummel him. I yelled, "You JACKASS!"
"I nearly lost it when you said 'what did I do?' I can only imagine the crap running through your head," Justin said, chuckling loudly. I don't know what overcame me. I saw him lying on the ground chuckling like some idiot savant--partly relieved, but mostly angry--and I punched him hard in the stomach. I watched him scrunch over and he moaned, "Fuck, Laney."
I stood up and resisted the urge to kick his crumpled body. I snapped, "I hate you. I really, really hate you. In fact, I was thinking about how much simpler my life would be without you. I was happy you were possibly dead!"
"Liar," he groaned. He stood himself up and glared at me, "I think you broke a rib."
"Good."
"Good?"
"That was a rotten thing to do, Justin."
"I was trying to lighten the mood. I didn't know you'd react like an abusive spouse!" Justin reached for my hand, but I pushed him away. He sighed, "I realize now that your attachment to me is so strong that the thought of losing me drove you over the edge. So I forgive you."
I glared at him, "Such a bastard."
"You love me."
I scoffed, "That remains to be seen."
"Well, I know you love me. You proved it," Justin said with a smirk.
I snarled, "I want to beat you within an inch of your life right now."
"But you won't," he answered way too sure of himself.
I folded my arms and asked, "And why is that?"
"Because I have a secret weapon," he went over to his jacket.
"Unless it's your head on a silver platter, it won't do you any good."
"Uh-huh," Justin stared at me, one of our many battles of will. He finally blinked and pulled a video out of his jacket pocket. He grinned at me, his smile going from each side of his face, and waved the movie in front of my face.
I tried to sustain an air of disinterest, but it faltered quickly when I saw the video cover in his hands. I glared at him and complained, "That isn't fair."
"I guess I'll go back to my hotel room and watch this all by myself."
I stomped my feet and argued, "This really isn't fair."
Justin's face flashed with a mix of confusion and playfulness, "I think it's perfectly fair. I rented a movie that we both love in hopes that we would have a good time and forget about the crappy evening. But if you want me to leave-"
I interrupted what was sure to be a never-ending ramble, "I am rightfully infuriated with you and you wave The Monster Squad in my face. That's not fair, Justin!"
"Do I look stupid to you, Laney Jane?" He fiddled with the tape casing and added, "You always wondered why women found me so irresistible…well, this is it."
"All girls remember Ryan Lambert from Kids Incorporated with fondness?" I guessed
Justin scowled, "No, but I pay attention to the details-" His voice got louder to drown at my laughter, "…I know what the women in my life like and it keeps them from murdering me in my sleep."
"Again, I must reiterate that that remains to be seen."
"So do you want me to leave? Or do you want to watch the movie?"
"You realize that I still hate you."
He smirked, "Of course."
"And just because we can sit here and quote a movie together, doesn't let you off the hook for anything you've done?"
"I get it."
"And that you are still required to act out the scene with the line 'I kicked wolfman in the nards' because you do the best impression of fat kid."
"Yeah."
I nodded in affirmation, "Then you can stay."
He nodded, "Gee thanks."
"You're welcome," I said. I took the video from his hands and stuck it in my VCR. I fell back on my bed and sat with my arms propping up my head. Justin stood there for a minute, as if he and I had never watched a movie together before. I shot him a puzzled look, "What are you doing?"
"I wasn't sure if it was safe to attempt taking a seat next to you on the bed without risk of personal injury."
"Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Irresistible."
His middle finger touched my nose, "You mean like this."
I swatted his hand away, "The television is in front of you."
His finger tapped at my shoulder. He asked, "Or more like this?"
"Watch the movie, Justin."
He was like the bratty kid I had to baby-sit sometimes, or the Ritalin cases you heard about on the news. His fingers crawled along my forearm and he continued, "Or is this what you were referring to?"
I grabbed his finger and barked in frustration, "The things I put up with to have a guy around who can do a good Fatkid impression."
Justin chuckled. He concentrated his attention on the television as the credits came on. He mumbled, "Yeah, you definitely love me."
I focused my eyes on the television screen. I soon forgot about Spencer, Justin's antics at dinner, and even his near death experience. There was something to be said about silly B movies. They served their purpose to entertain. Justin and I fell back into our familiar groove as we shared silly observations about the cast and talented acting and laughed at ridiculous lines like, "How many times have you been dorked?" I dared Justin to ask the other entertainers he was meeting with the next day that and he simply rolled his eyes.
I took that as a no.
This was the stuff Justin and I were good at. We could be silly, off-kilter, and open with the most ridiculous notions in the world. We were both satisfied with a good movie and a pizza. And we didn't have any of those pretenses that adults were supposed to have between them--that modicum of distance where we're supposed to be mature and keep really weird thoughts to ourselves. It was a sure sign that Justin and I were insane. No wonder we probably clung to our friendship with each other. No one else in their right mind would be able to tolerate our strange habits on a regular basis.
After the movie finished, we flipped through the channels and landed on some movie called Eat Your Heart Out. Justin nudged me in the side and practically shouted with glee, "I love this movie!"
"I've never heard of it before."
Justin pointed at the screen, "Okay, there is Samantha and Daniel. Daniel is a cook and he gets this job as sorta the Doctor Ruth of cooking. He has a television show where he cooks and gives love advice…"
"Oh what a phenomenally bad idea. Like Jerry Springer and Ricki Lake aren't bad enough. Let's allow a guy who dresses up like the Swedish Chef to counsel the forlorn."
"Yeah, sure," Justin rubbed his eyes and went on, "Anyway, he and Samantha are best friends-"
I groaned and said, "Please tell me they don't end up together."
Justin rolled his eyes, "Love you too, Laney Jane."
"You know what I mean. Don't you get sick of it? Tonight even Spencer hinted at weird feelings between us. It's as if it's impossible for us normal-well, a normal person like myself and you-to have a friendship without mucking it up with the icky love stuff."
Justin yawned, "Sometimes a movie is just a movie, Laney. Who cares what everyone else thinks? We both know that we're just friends. It doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good film. Your need to decipher every nuance to a conversation is going to be your downfall one day. Mark my words."
"Did you say 'mark my words' with a straight face?" I shook my head and added, "And I'm pretty sure that you are my downfall."
Justin closed his eyes and hummed out, "You're too kind."
I knocked him in the side, "J, maybe you should call Toddy and have him send a limo for you? It's getting late and you're practically slobbering on my pillow." Justin didn't reply but rather turned on his side, taking up about three quarters of my bed. I pushed him over, "Justin? Get up."
"In a minute," he moaned.
"Not in a minute," I replied, trying unsuccessfully to sit him up. I pushed him out of bed and he retook his place on the bed and curled up in a ball. I kept attempting to wake him up, but I would've had more luck with raising the dead. At one point, he practically pinned me underneath him, requiring me to resign myself to defeat.
I grabbed a blanket from my closet and tossed it over his almost lifeless lump of flesh. I laid down next to him and groaned into my teddy bear. How had I gone from violent fury to tucking him in? I knew it had been said of our friendship several times before, but I was beginning to agree with Dana. My friendship with Justin wasn't normal-sure, she meant it for different reasons, but it was a fact.
I flipped the television off as Samantha went into an impassioned speech for Daniel not to allow celebrity to make him "fatheaded" or change. I glanced at Justin and thought about everything-our friendship, Spencer, Britney, our repartee, Spencer, Justin's conduct that evening-and tried to discount the ill-ease radiating from somewhere below my esophagus. I shook my head and muttered to an imaginary character, "It doesn't matter if he doesn't change, Samantha. Everything else does."