Lustful Memoirs
By: Gina - gina@basic-nstynct.com
Chapter Forty FiveThe door opened, the wood dragged slowly across the plush carpet, sending an eerie scratching noise throughout my room. I glanced toward the door, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes roamed over the person that occupied the threshold. Unruly curls that were recently gelled framed his face, dark jeans hung loosely on his thin hips, a baggy Tarhell Jersey covered his upper body, his feet housed in matching baby blue tennis shoes. His face held the expression of uncertainty, my eyes captured his gaze, and with one look, I could see the redness outlining his cerulean irises, redness that I knew did not indicate fatigue, for I had witnessed that. Redness that I knew did not indicate inebriation, for it was too early in the afternoon for alcohol, and Justin didn’t drink. Leaving the only culprit responsible for the redness, freshly shed tears. I quickly closed the distance between us and captured him in my arms. His head lowered to meet my shoulder, as my hands softly caressed the tense muscles of his back. I whispered to him, offering the only comfort I could, not knowing the reason for his sadness, but hoping that I had not caused it.
He pulled away suddenly, taking the heat held between us with him, causing the parts of my body that had so recently been molded against him to chill.
"Thank you, Blake." The words were soft, whispered, his face pulled into an expression of shame.
"Justin," I placed my hand on his arm, "what happened?"
I watched his eyes as I felt him pull in a deep breath. He released it slowly, willing calm to claim him. And in an instant, his facial features pulled into the mask he typically wore, but his expressive eyes held fast to the sadness brewing directly beneath the surface. I didn’t push, only held his gaze and ran my hand softly up and down his arm, willing the strength that he recently gave me, back to him. He looked away for brief second before meeting my eyes again.
"Blake, it’s nothing, just typical bullshit. I don’t know why I let him get to me anymore. I just have to accept the fact that he’s gone, that he’s too wrapped up in the memories of someone that no longer exists to realize that the people still around him aren’t going to be for long if he keeps acting this way."
He didn’t need to say his name, he didn’t need to make any mention of the person of whom he spoke. I knew he was the cause the moment my eyes met Justin’s. My anger flared once again, this time I held it in check, concerned more to comfort Justin then to kick JC’s ass for causing his sadness.
"I can’t explain him Justin, how I wish I could. I know how much you need him."
"Need him," his tone bled of exasperation. "At one time, that was true, now, that couldn’t be more false. I don’t need him, and apparently, as he says, he doesn’t need me. I give up Blake."
Frustration masked his features, profound sadness clouded in his eyes. I had no idea what had caused this sudden breakdown, and I knew that he would not tell me, so I did the only thing that I knew how to do, I pulled him towards me again. This time, his arms enveloped me as well, squeezing me into him. He pulled away, a smile now covering his face.
"Thank you, I needed that right now." He whispered, before turning and grabbing my bags.
"What are you doing?"
"Your chariot awaits." His tone was teasing, the mask firmly back in place.
"Justin, you do not have to take me to the airport. You have to get your stuff ready and you have things to get done. I’m a big girl, I can make it to the airport on my own."
"Blake, if you think for one minute that you are going to win this argument you are wrong. I’m taking you to the airport, and that’s that. I’ll get my stuff together, don’t you worry. I’ve done this touring thing once or twice," his lips pulled into a smile, as he said the words, "if I forget something they’ll either get it for me or buy it for me. Packing is on the bottom of my priority list and taking you to the airport is on the top. So let’s go." The cocky grin graced his features and I had to smile. The argument was over before it had even begun, however, I couldn’t help myself, I had to give the impression that I was putting up a fight.
"Timberlake, you always get what you want?" My question was meant as a joke but as soon as the sound hit his tympanic membrane, forming words in his mind, I saw his demeanor falter. I inwardly groaned, my careless words had hurt him. Never before in my life had I felt the overwhelming remorse that I did in those few short minutes. He turned his eyes away from me, I could see the moisture gathering, threatening to spill. He quickly wiped it away.
"No, Blake, I don’t always get what I want." His words came in fragmented syllables, clear, crisp, definite, as if he were forced once again to remind people that as glamorous as his life appeared, it was no walk in the park. He purposefully said each word, hoping to will away the misconception. He turned from me, for only a brief second, collecting himself, pulling himself back under the reigns of his forced outer control. He shook his head and then smiled, the fake, painted on smile that he had perfected over the years. The one he gave to so many, the one that could fool almost everyone, but not me. I sighed, but let him continue his charade, not wanting to force a confrontation or to pull the hurt out of him knowing that I would be leaving, and wouldn’t be able to offer the support, the strength, that he would need should I force those emotions to flow. No, I would let him remain in his forced state of control, as much for his benefit as mine. The thought of tears brimming from those deep blues eyes, the hurt that would pour from deep within him threatened to overtake my heart, leaving all thoughts of returning to LA behind, only wanted to offer the comfort and solace that he so desperately needed. But I couldn’t do it, not for him, not for me.
He picked up another bag, looking at me as he did. "I don’t always get what I want." This time the words flowed freely, and held no meaning, they were empty. "But, I am taking you to the airport, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do or say that can stop me. So come on, if we keep fucking around, you are going to miss your flight and Melinda is going to kick my ass."
As he spoke, my mind raced, I felt an all-encompassing need to replace the fake smile he offered me with the real one, the one that lit his eyes, and crinkled his forehead. With the final words he spoke, the opportunity showed itself. I smiled at him with all the innocence I could muster.
"I didn’t think we were fucking around, but if we hurry, I think we could do that before we have to leave."
A blush rose from his throat, he stared at me, incredulously. And then the reward I was seeking, his mouth pulled wide offering a peek at that perfect row of ivory, his deep blue orbs cleared, the corners of his eyes gathered, and his forehead creased. The smile, the genuine, to the heart smile. He cleared his throat, forcing the crimson that had swept over his face back to its origin.
"Blake," he laughed as he spoke, "you are so damn bad. You know I’ve never been a minuteman, and I’m not about to start trying to be now. When I take a woman, I make sure that she is satisfied, and since I can’t guarantee that at the moment, it isn’t gonna happen. So let’s go." The cocky grin, infuriating to the casual observer, welcomed and understood to the person who was allowed passed his erected barriers, covered his face as he continued to chuckle.
I laughed with him, and grabbed the remaining two bags, following him through the house and to his car. Thankfully, no one else was around. For a moment, I thought about Chris and Joey and Lance and Jen. Pushing the thoughts aside, as I climbed into Ruby, I decided that someone would tell them.
The ride to the airport was both excruciatingly long and painfully short. The images along the highway passed in a blur. Two weeks had passed since my journey in the opposite direction. Two weeks, such a short period of time, such a deep impact left on the rest of my life. Once or twice during the ride, I was overcome with the emotions brewing inside of me. I was leaving behind possibly the only person that had ever cared, that I had ever cared about. But leaving him behind was necessary to make myself whole, to heal, to move forward instead of always having the past right over my shoulder. Sadness and apprehension would take residence, then determination and strength. Conflicting emotion coursed through me during that ride, and each time the feelings became too much to bear, a few tears would escape. And with every tear, I would find his hand covering my thigh, ensuring that all would be okay, that I could do what needed to be done.
The ride ended much as it had begun, in silence, the only communication between us through our eyes and our hand motions. He pulled my bags out of the back of the truck, and checked them. Handing me my luggage claims, he took my hand, and we walked toward the gate. No words were spoken, they didn’t need to be. We both knew what the other felt. Thankfully, as we arrived, the plane was already boarding. There would be no more minutes of silence, no more seconds of togetherness, no more time for me to change my mind and seek the comfort, the solace, the warmth he offered. This was it.
I pulled him toward me, wrapping my arms around him, his body stiffened at first, surprised, and then he relaxed. I pulled away from him, looking up into his deep blue eyes, eyes that held tears that I knew would not be shed, at least not in my presence.
"Thank you, Justin, for everything." My voice wavered, "you will never know the extent of which you helped me. You keep your head up, stay the same amazing man you are, and don’t let those bastards or those little girls get to you, okay?"
I attempted a smile as a few tears ran down my cheek, he kissed them away. "Okay, Blake. I promise, but you promise me that you’ll take care of yourself. Get yourself together, and if you ever, ever need anything you know how to get a hold of me, you better not hesitate to pick up the phone."
"I will and I won’t. I promise. Have a good time on tour, and don’t be too mean to my replace..."
The word didn’t have the chance to be completed, the final syllable cut off by the softness of his lips meeting my own. Tenderly, his mouth moved over mine. I stopped breathing, unsure if I had the strength to pull away. The kiss held no feelings of lust or want, it was confirmation, confirmation of the tenderness, the caring, the many emotions that had passed between us, both spoken and silent. I relaxed into the kiss, hopeful that I could convey with my lips what I couldn’t with words, the jumble of emotions I held for him. Our mouths molded for a time, before he turned his head, his breath warm on my cheek.
"Blake," he whispered my name, branding the sound on my brain, "you can never be replaced, not here." He raised his hand between us, to cover his heart.
I looked down at his long, soft fingers resting on the swell of his chest. I could form no words that would be an adequate response to his statement. I felt the familiar catching in the back of my throat, the one that signaled the onslaught of tears. I quickly swallowed, I would not allow myself to break down, not then, not in the last few minutes I had to look into those deep blue eyes. I would not allow my last visions of him to be clouded by the moisture that would form in my eyes if I were to give into the overwhelming feelings I was experiencing. I cupped his chin with my hand, before pulling him to me in a quick embrace. I pulled away, allowing myself one more glance into his eyes. He smiled, the smile reserved only for those that had penetrated his outward barriers, the select few that were able to see the real Justin that he kept so well hidden from the world. I returned his smile, then turned and walked away from him.
I walked down the ramp to board the plane, telling myself that I would not look at him, I didn’t want to see him again, I wanted to remember the tenderness of his kiss, the warmth of his embrace, the feelings captured in his smile. I wanted to capture that part of him and hold it close to me. But I couldn’t resist. I turned, gasping with surprise. Once again he was able to give me what he knew I needed, the gift that I desired. He was gone. The last vision I would have of him would be that smile. I wiped away a single tear and made my way to my seat.
"Good-bye, Justin, thank you." I whispered as the plane rose into the vast blue sky.