"Malia and crew were spotted stumbling out of yet another bar overnight. A witness says she took shot after shot until she couldn't stand and needed carried out of the bar. She was heard many times, ranting very loud statements to the bar about the guys in her life doing her wrong... Looks like her happily ever after with Mr. Timberlake isn't so happy. Maybe she should have stayed with Aaron Steele..." Blah blah blah. "Even with his single failing miserably on the charts, his album, which is promised to be more bashing at Timberlake and Malia herself, is still slated to release next week...."

I clicked the TV off and rolled my eyes. It always amused me to see them jump from a crazy story of what actually happened to a promotion for that artist. As if I didn't have enough to worry about today. Yes, I was in another bar, it was going to be the last one for a while. I did make a comment about men, but I wasn't aware of any other comments I had made. I couldn't remember anything from the night before so I guess it was possible that I ranted about men. I learned quickly, I knew how to make mistakes and make them count.

I arrived in Los Angeles for a photoshoot as scheduled. However the weight of last night's possibilities on my shoulders was not part of the plan. With most of the night a blur, I wasn't sure if I could even trust my own thoughts on what happened. I remember clearly being in the bar and doing shots with Ingrid and Deena but much of the time soon after is hit or miss. I remember pieces of walking to the cab, in the lobby of the hotel, laughing loudly in the hallway with the girls outside of my room.

I couldn't remember who this person was that I had brought to my room with me, who I obviously done more than just sleep next to with.

How could those hours just be cleared from my memory?

Did I leave the room and head back down to the bar? Did I meet this person randomly?

If I would have been brave enough to find out who was under those covers, maybe see their face I would have more answers. I wanted to forget everything that happened the night before. Clearly my decision making process didn't improve when I made the choice to take off out of the hotel, with my suitcase in tow, and that man still in my hotel room. If I didn't know who it was, maybe I could forget it happened?

I didn't want to change into fourteen different outfits, put on a smile, and pretend to be something I wasn't today, but it needed done. It all comes with the job, so I pretended to be fine. I pretended to be this happy go lucky, has the world in the palm of her hands, woman and after hours in the hair and makeup chair, set changes, wardrobe changes, makeup changes, one after another things were slowly getting done. It was finally lunch time and the only thing I wanted, was some answers. As everyone broke free and ran to the food, I found a quiet room and my laptop.

"What the hell happened last night?" I asked Ingrid over the Skype chat.

"Why do you look dressed, hair done all fancy?" she scrunched her nose at me. "And I'm still in last night's PJ's."

I wiggled in the chair, attempting to find a comfortable spot. "I'm in L.A. I had a photoshoot this morning."

She adjusts herself on the couch in her sweats, "Oh shit I didn't know... we wouldn't have..."

I stopped her; I need to know what happened, maybe nothing happened. Maybe I was over analyzing the details. "Explain to me how I ended up with bruises of what looks like this..." I lifted my hands into the view of the camera, "around my wrists? It looks like someone pinned me down? Were we that crazy in the bar?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "No, we weren't that drunk. I mean we were really drunk but not crazy drunk. We all went straight back to our rooms pretty early and crashed. Looks like your sex got a little rough..." She joked.

"Who would I have..." I trailed off when my phone buzzed on the table. I was speechless at the words on the screen.

Just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything last night. I'm back in L.A. working today. Call me; we have some things to discuss.

My jaw was on the floor. Ingrid is yelling at me, asking what's wrong, what happened?

"I... I..." Could I have talked to him last night?

"Malia, what just happened? What was on that message?"

I clicked through messages from last night.

I miss you.

I want your arms wrapped around what's left of me.

I covered my face, not believing that this is what I really sent to him. What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn't thinking, that was part of the problem.

I scrolled through the phone, received calls.

9:02pm -Justin 44 minutes

12:46am -Justin 1 minute

"I talked to Justin last night?" I said out loud. Fuck I whispered to myself. I should have reversed the way I just made those two statements.

"You didn't talk to him while I was with you..."

"I talked to him for nearly an hour. What the hell was wrong with me last night?"

"What did you say? What did he say?" She started rambling off questions but her words became jumbled in my brain. I was asking myself question after question, trying to piece everything together. The time stamp was hours after I was back at the hotel. I talked to him highly intoxicated. What had I said? What did he say that caused me to make the choices I made? Or did I already make those choices and confess what I had done to Justin.

"Ing... Ingrid..." I stuttered. "I need to go... I need to find out what happened last night."

Did I really tell him I wanted his arms wrapped around what was left of me? Why would I make a comment like that to him? Stupid.

"I just want to ask you one question before you go?"

I looked back up at the screen, she was in serious mode. "Don't look so serious..."

"I remember our conversation last night... and without going into too much detail, just ask yourself... what do you want?"

"What do I want?" I asked confused.

"Yes. Ask yourself that question. Not what everyone around you wants, not what everyone around you thinks, not even what he wants. What do you want? What would make you happy?"

How much did I say last night? I asked myself.

"I'm not going to say anything..." Ingrid says softly, "But I need you to ask yourself that question. You deserve much more than you give yourself credit for. You're only as broken as you think you are. You can fix that."

I had so much more to worry about than what I wanted. But her words were incredible to hear and it really made the churning of my thoughts continue throughout the day. Instead of dreading the words I may have said to him, I was trying to focus on the work needed done, but her question was the thought that kept coming back, front and center. What did I want? It was such a simple question, with a difficult answer.

Was it possible that I wanted to be with Justin, like really want to be with him?

The questions ran through my head over and over again making each photo significantly different from the last one taken.

Could this simply be a form of infatuation that has managed to get out of my control?

Could I have led Justin to believe that this could ever be something that it never was?

Was I going to let someone like Aaron, control my every emotion for the rest of my life?

Could I let the mistakes of the past, stop me from every loving someone again?

Could I love Justin, did I deserve the love he could give me?

The only thing I kept coming back to was Justin. He was an incredible man, always so sweet and heartfelt without wanting something in return. He hasn't given up on me. With this mess that I have become, he accepted me for who I was at this moment and not who I was or who I could be.

Reaching for a pen and my notebook, I scribble down words that were flowing through my constant thought process. I did the one thing I haven't been able to do in months. Write the words that I was actually feeling. And the words didn't hurt, they healed.

"I know I break your heart... with everything I'm not... Don't ever give up, on me... Remember that were strong ... And even as we fall... Don't ever give up, on me..."

I drug the pen across the paper quickly, writing down the words I needed to get out.

 "These tears I'm holding back... Could turn my whole face black... And I don't know if you love... If you saw me like that... Would you..."

I looked around a room filled with people, all who have their own problems and issues to deal with. But they were still here, still doing their job, still living their lives. The mirror on the side wall catches my attention, my reflection. This is who I was. Good or bad, this was what I had to offer. Things may change today or tomorrow or next week, but someone in my life, had to accept the here and now.

"How do you... still believe in me... even when... all my colors bleed... holding out... will you love the rest of me?..."

I had run from every chance I could. Involving my heart wasn't an option. But there would never be a flip of the switch if I did I wasn't the one to flip it.

"My heart will tend run... But even when I'm gone... Don't ever give up, on me... I'm trying deep within... If you could hold my hand... Don't ever give up, on me..."

I looked down at the finish product, rubbing my thumbs over the last lines of the song I had just poured my every emotion into.

"Would you follow if I turn my back?... Could you love me through this broken glass?... I know, I'm not who I was or where I need to be... But don't ever give up on me... Don't ever give up on me..."

Each indentation of the words was a piece of me that found its way back to another.

Picking up the phone I dial the number of the one person I wanted to talk to.

"Hello!" he answers the phone after one ring. I could imagine him sitting on his couch, flipping through the television, his feet propped up, tired from the day yet smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey." I said nervously.

"Hey to you." He repeated, leaving a moment of silence between the two of us. "How are you feeling today?"

I had so many things to tell him. I had some things to confess to him and some things I didn't want to confess to him. I broke the silence, "I'm in L.A., just for the day. I have been working all day..." I cut myself off, none of that mattered. "I want to see you. We need to talk." I piece of joy waved through my body. This is what I should do.

"I want to see you." He said so endearing, "I'm on set right now, reshooting some scenes. But I should be done around six, is that okay?"

I started to tap my foot off the floor, nervous habits never go away. "I won't be done here for several hours... it will be after six..."

"I don't care what time it is, as long as I get to see you." His voice and the way he says things like that make this the right choice.

I didn't know what I wanted and I wasn't sure that it was a bad thing anymore. What I did know, was I wanted him in my life, whatever that may be. Knowing he wanted to see me was all I needed to hear.

I expected a level of anxiety, to panic, or just plain scared as I drove up his long driveway but I was content. I pulled in front of the massive house that stood before me.

All this space for one person.

It really was out of the view of most. I could see why he loved it here.

The enormous driveway held one black SUV.

I climbed out of the car, admiring the space around me. It felt like home.

Knocking on the door, I start having a wave of excitement. I was finally doing this. I was finally going to see him in what felt like forever.

The door opens and my heart stops beating. "... Hang on babe..." Sarah. The woman I knew very well stood barefoot just inside the door. She places the phone away from her face, "Can I help you?" She bobs her head back in forth.

I couldn't speak. My heart had been shoved up my chest wall and into my throat. I was choking on my own words.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked again. "Did you need something? I have plenty of work to get done and wasting time here isn't helping much..."

She was barefoot and comfortable. In Justin's house.

They were living together, again.

I reached in my bag slowly pulling out the folded up sheet of paper I had just ripped out of my journal. "Could you please... just make sure Justin gets this please?" I lifted it slowly, second guessing everything. "He was expecting me..."

She took the piece of my life and tossed it on the side table as if it was nothing of importance. She look back over to me, "Oh honey, he is still on set. Thank god." She rolled her eyes. "He should be home soon."

Home.

I managed to move one foot in front of the other and place myself back in my car. Stunned. Mile by mile, I finally pulled into the driveway. As my legs crumble beneath the weight of my body to the kitchen floor of my condo, I know now what I want.

What I wanted.

And it wasn't mine to have.