218 SandPiper Drive, 4:03

I like Paula Deen a lot. Her voice and her attitude remind me of my grandma that died last year. She was the best cook and so sweet and genuine and positive. Everyone says I got my voice from her. Whenever I get in a bad mood I turn on food network hoping Paula Dean’s show is on or that it’s that Alton man that’s so nerdy and quirky. But right now she’s making me miss my grandma and my momma.

I miss my momma a lot.

We’ve never had one of those perfect mother/ daughter relationships where she knew all my secrets and we were more like sisters or something. No, she’s just my momma and we fight and we get along but we aren’t super close. But if I was home right now, if I was back in Georgia, which I wish I was, if I was home she’d lay with me in bed, and make me a pecan pie or her homemade cookies and watch You’ve Got Mail and Sleepless in Seattle with me and just lay and be quiet.

She wouldn’t ask me too many questions and she wouldn’t have to. She would know a boy hurt my feelings and she would make it better.

But momma’s not here right now. And daddy’s not here to make some stupid joke and ask me to watch the game with him, whichever game was on. It could be bowling, it never mattered. If it’s on ESPN, he’ll watch it. And Beebee… I frown and sink further into the covers and hold my pillow, wishing it was my doggie. Maybe I should get one to keep with me, but I hate little dogs and I wouldn’t be able to keep a big dog on the road.

Plus, I don’t want Bee to think I’m replacing her. She’d lay right here if I were home and let me hold her. She doesn’t let anyone else hold her. And she’d sigh and just look at me. And I’d rub in between her eyes and I wouldn’t be lonely.

I think I wanna go home and forget all this. I mean, maybe I should just forget being a singer. There’s too much drama, too much hurt. I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’d never, ever give it up. I just want to be home right now and I don’t want to have to deal with questions about us. I don’t want to have to do that stupid call-in radio interview tonight and I don’t even want to hear his name again, not even for questions about the tracks we did together. Hell, I’ll take it off the album if I have to. And what’s worse is that Sony wants that to be the next single.

This morning I asked Teddy to go get me a magazine from the store ‘cause I thought I might go lay out. But then I thought there was no reason for me to get a tan since no one really cares, so I just sat here and read it. Of course he got “The Sun” thinking he was being funny. And he was, most of the articles were hilarious. And then there was one about Justin and me and that club. Reports were we were all but having sex in the VIP area. Witnesses say that I went under the table for an extended period of time and that Justin was seen making weird faces. Then we were spotted walking into the Ritz together and someone claims we made noises so loud that neighbors complained.

It’s amazing what lies they will print. The Ritz probably has walls as thick as a bank safe. No one would hear if anything had happened.

I really shouldn’t have listened to Coldplay last night. Whenever I can’t fall asleep I put on Parachutes and I normally knock out. Instead, I stayed up most of the night crying. I hate to admit it. I hate being so girly. It’s not even like we were together that long. Fucking high school is what it all is. A week relationship after a couple of months crush and I fucking bawl my eyes out.

Over a stupid boy. ‘Cause that’s what he is. He’s a stupid boy and any thought I had of him being a man or being mature, especially more so than me, well that was shot out of the window. Or maybe, maybe he just didn’t like me that much to begin with. Maybe in New York he just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Or maybe he’s really just a sex pig and just wanted to do me and when I told him he had to wait he got mad and thought about it over the past week and broke up with me all harsh so I would hate him and he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

And that’s where I get stuck. The Justin I knew. The Justin from New York and from LA, that Justin would care. Hell, that Justin did care. In fact our last day in the studio together he told me to take care, told me to keep in touch, told me he would see me around and told me if I needed him he’d always be there. I assumed he was just being nice and did my best to get over him. I was busy as hell, locked in the studio for some time, trying to get the album finished. I didn’t have time to think about Justin Timberlake and my little crush.

But I did. I thought about him a lot more than I should. I held it in, didn’t tell Angie, didn’t tell Megan until she forced it out of me one night over Margaritas. When he called up in New York, I was shocked, so much so that the excitement of it didn’t really hit me. I think I was so tired I didn’t really realize what was happening. But when I saw him, when I saw him laying there on the couch and when he smiled at me under that hat, I knew I had it bad. He didn’t even say hey, just moved his legs so I could lay down on the couch with him. And that night, when I snuck to see him…

I snuggle into the covers a little and readjust my glasses. I’ve been wearing them nonstop the past two days, I’m not use to that. I’ve been living in my contacts with all the promotion I’ve been doing. That night, he kissed me all slow and he didn’t push me and he could have. I would have been happy to do more than just kiss him that night. The next night was different, I was drunk and not in control. But that night, that night he just kissed me and pulled back the covers and took my glasses off for me, setting them so carefully down on the nightstand. And he turned off the light and held me and kissed me some more and we talked a little. We talked about the songs we worked on together, talked about our schedules. And at some point I fell asleep and I slept so hard next to him.

But he had to ruin it all. He had to ruin the slow kisses and the elevator ride and his hands on me in the club. He had to ruin any chance of getting anything more out of me. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why he acted like that. I’ve never seen that in my life. I mean, I’ve been around people doing weed before and it doesn’t bother me. But the other stuff did. I guess I am naïve and stupid like he said. But despite what people write about me and what all the rumors contradict, I’m a good girl and was raised well. I might like to have a good time and might have a hard time controlling myself when I’m drunk, but I’m a good girl. I went to high school at a good, small school in eastern Georgia. Sure there were drugs and stuff but everyone I hung out with would just drink or smoke. We were good kids.

In college I spent most of my time with my boyfriend and with Megan and we just sat around and were goof balls most of the time. And so what if I’ve been in the “business” for a few years. I don’t have a lot of Hollywood-type friends. Most everyone I knew I knew before I had my first record.

And even if I was use to people doing drugs I think I had a right to freak out by what his friends were saying to him about those girls. I was expecting to come down and see him hunched over and tired and was expecting a bright smile and a huge hug when he saw me. Instead I got fucking bloodshot eyes, horrible breath and just a stare. Just a shocked, cold stare.

I got some slut with no bra and fake breast and fake ugly hair touching him and looking lusty at him.

I guess the only positive thing about the situation is seeing that Courtney really does care about me. She’s been here for me more than I could ask. I mean, I haven’t sobbed to her or anything, I know that would probably annoy her. Plus I have Megan for that kind of thing. But it was still nice to have her here. As soon as I came back from the studio she let me yell and scream and just sat there and listened. She listened to me lose it for an hour, then sat me down and made me some tea. She told me to take a shower. I thought she was crazy but it actually helped. It actually made me feel a little better, calmed me down.

And last night when I couldn’t sleep, after I had listened to Coldplay, I came out of my room about 1 in the morning to find her on her laptop. She said she was just going to bed, but stayed up and watched a MagicBullet blender infomercial with me. I woke up this morning still on the couch, but a blanket was over me.

About an hour ago I fought off the urge to call Trace. I knew he’d just give the phone to Justin and then I’d be stuck. Part of me wants to talk to him. Part of me wants to know that whatever happened was some chemical imbalance in his mind or he had an evil twin or something. Part of me wants to hear him explain. But the other part, the other part of me keeps yelling at me, saying that no man should call you bitchy, especially when there’s no reason for it. No man should make you feel bad, no man should hurt your feelings that way.

And he did. He hurt me so bad.

Maybe I just want to know why.

I laugh at myself. I really am pathetic. I want him to call, I really do want him to. I want to hear him apologize, I want to hear his explanation. And I want to take him back, though I know I shouldn’t. But maybe he doesn’t want to apologize, maybe he doesn’t care.

Courtney said last night that Trace and her didn’t really talk about what Justin did when they went out to eat. She said, Trace said, that Justin hadn’t really mentioned it.

So, I don’t know. He probably doesn’t give a shit about me. I guess I’m just getting my hopes up, I guess he’s right. I’m just a stupid, naïve little girl. A little girl who was ready to go for it and give it her all and make it work. I was ready to make this deep with him, to not just date him but to be in a relationship with him, to…fuck it, I’ll say it, to fucking fall in love with him.

I was ready for that. I guess this is what I get for getting my hopes up.

Paula is making these little chocolate bread muffins and it’s making me hungry. I barely ate the day everything happened, I was anxious and nervous and upset and my stomach paid the price. Yesterday I just ate cereal and some ice cream and today I had a frozen pizza for lunch, but I only ate a slice of it and gave the rest to Teddy. The Cheerios box is still on the nightstand and I reach over to grab it.

I hear the doorbell ring. It seems to echo in the house. I know Courtney’s here. She said she was gonna go sit on the deck, though. Teddy, hell I don’t know where he is. I hope it’s no one bad. I’ll just not answer it. It’s a private, gated community so it’s not some psycho murderer. At least I hope not.

I think I’ll just lay here and they’ll go away.

It rings again and I freak out a little. I turn the volume all the way down and listen really hard. Just the air condition. At first I think maybe I can just peek out the window but then I remember that there’s a roof over the front porch so I can’t see down to the door from the second floor. I figure I should probably get out of bed and go run and get Courtney. But before I can even get the covers off I hear Courtney’s voice. It’s muffled and I can’t make out any words. I hear footsteps in the foyer and strain to hear. It’s silent. I hear the front door shut and think maybe someone had the wrong house or something.

Then there’s a knock at my door.

I just stare at the door and sink down into the covers. I start to get a feeling and I realize what’s going on. I think I know who’s on the other side of that door.

“Mere?”

I close my eyes and say “shit” to the ceiling.

I might want to take him back, but I don’t know if I’m ready. Shit, I don’t know if I’m ready.

The door cracks open and I open my eyes and look at the door. I don’t say anything, I don’t know if I could say anything to him if I wanted to. What do you say in a situation like this? He must not know what to say either. He’s just in the doorway, looking back at me.

He’s wearing pretty much that same thing that he wore the night I snuck out to see him in New York, gym shorts and a white t-shirt. He hasn’t shaved. He looks pitiful. And I shouldn’t think it, and I shouldn’t care, but to me, to see that look on his face, that look that tells me in that moment he’s more sorry than I know, that makes me melt. How can he still make me melt? He breaks his stare and steps in the room. He shuts the door behind him and doesn’t say a thing but walks right over to my bed. I can’t move. I just watch him kick off his shoes and then reach to pull the covers off that side off the bed.

He can’t get in. He can’t do that to me. He can’t just expect to come in here and get in bed and hold me and say he’s sorry and it all be ok. I curl up on my side, facing away from him. I scoot to the edge of the bed in an attempt to tell him without speaking that I don’t want anything to do with him.

But I do, I do want everything that is him.

I feel the bed shift, I feel arms come up around my torso and feel him pull me back against him. He holds me so tight with my back against his front, both of us on our sides. He kisses my shoulder and buries his forehead in the crook of my neck. I gulp and look at the wall. He makes it so hard. And yet so easy.

“I don’t know what I can say or do, but I’ll do it if it means you’ll forgive me.”

I suck in a breath and let him hold me for a moment before turning to face him. He remains on his side and pulls away from me a bit. I lie on my back and look at him. “You hurt me.” He closes his eyes and bites his lip. “You hurt me so bad, Justin.”

“I know. I didn’t realize it at the time ‘cause I was…”

“You were high.” I finish for him and look away.

“It’s not an excuse.”

“No, it’s not.”

He stares at me and it makes me feel uncomfortable. If we weren’t in this situation I wouldn’t mind it ,but something about the way he’s looking is so expectant, like he’s just waiting for me to forgive him. I don’t know if I can do it that easily. It’s quiet for a while because I don’t know what to say to him and I can tell he’s trying his best to figure what to say to me.

“Do you want me to try and explain?” He finally asks.

I pull away and curl up on my side again. For some reason a surge of anger hits me. I’m not an angry person. In fact, the whole thing with Leah hurt me more than it angered me. I try not to be bitter or hold grudges, but what he did to me did anger me. Yeah, I’ve been moping around and sad the past few days, but when it first happened I was enraged and now, now a little surge of that comes back and I don’t know why. I want to take him back and that’s probably why. Laying here with him, feeling his body against mine and seeing in his eyes that he really is sorry, that he really knows he fucked up, well that makes me want him. That makes me want to forget anything happened and just lay here with him and kiss him. And that makes me so angry with myself.

I can’t be that easy, right? I can’t just forgive him in a snap. Right?

I suck in a breath. “What’s to explain, Justin? You, you changed.”

“I was scared, Meredith.” He comes close to me again. I hear him sigh. His hand touches my shoulder and starts to rub my arm. He’s making this so hard. He makes this so, so damn difficult to stay mad. “I was scared from the moment I decided to date you ‘cause I knew this would be big. I knew we would be big. I knew this was special and I knew that it was gonna get blown up by everyone else. I wanted to keep it as simple for as long as possible. So I didn’t tell any of the guys that and they wanted me to hook up with one of the girls they brought. I can’t say in a different situation I wouldn’t have taken them up on that. If I were single then I might have. But I’m not single. I’m with you.” He pauses and then I feel him pull me so I’m on my back. He stares at me. “I’m with you, girl.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” My voice is a whisper, I don’t know why. I knew after everything came out in the papers with me and Megan it would be very hard for me to date. I knew most the people I met would either turn up their nose or be with me for the wrong reason. I was terrified of being alone. I’m fine with being single now, but the idea of never settling down, that…that terrifies me. That’s why when I met Justin and he ignored all the other shit and just wanted to know me for who I really am, that…that meant so much. But it still doesn’t change the fact that people are going to think, “ooo, he’s dating the half lesbian party girl who’s quoted to saying ‘my favorite thing is giving head.” I never even said that, and if I did it was meant as a fucking joke. “Is that why you didn’t tell them?”

“Meredith, I don’t care what people think. I don’t care what people say. I’ve dealt with that shit for way too many years. But you haven’t. You’re still trying to cope with what Leah did to you and another big press story isn’t gonna make it any easier.”

I shouldn’t have thought of that. I shouldn’t have even brought her up. Fuck, why is he right? Why am I still coping with this? She was just a money hungry bitch who said some lies and took things out of context for a moment in the spotlight. But maybe I can’t handle it. Maybe I’m not mature enough to handle it. I start to cry a little and look away, hoping he won’t notice. “’Cause I’m stupid and naïve, right?”

“No, you just haven’t had time to deal with this stuff.”

I wipe at my face hoping I don’t cry for long. My eyes are exhausted, and this morning when I woke up I noticed I had cried so hard a few blood vessels had broken on the skin around my eyes. “This still doesn’t explain yesterday. I…I can forgive you for those girls, though I don’t like it. I don’t think you’d like it if Megan or someone just brought around some hot men and pushed them on me.”

“I wouldn’t like it.”

I don’t know why, but suddenly I have the urge to face him to get all this over with so we can see where we stand. I turn around, laying on my side and stare at him. “And I’m fucking sorry I flipped out about the drugs, I just…”

He shakes his head and reaches to touch my hair, but pulls back right after he’s done it. “I know Mere, I know you’re not use to it. And honestly, I shouldn’t be around it.”

I don’t know why I do it, but I find myself clutching the front of his t-shirt and curling into him. His legs rub against mine and I reach my feet down to feel his. I don’t have a foot fetish. In fact, other people’s feet kind of disgust me, but his feet are kind of cute and they feel good when I rub mine against his. I sigh against him. He makes me feel safe and when he puts his arms around me and sighs I find myself shaking a bit. It’s only been a few days since we weren’t together but it’s been more than a week since he held me in the elevator and the rest of the world stopped and he proved right then that he really did care. And I guess that’s why I was so confused at the studio. That last image of him and the phone calls we’ve had of him just being stupid or trying to turn me on over the phone, that was the Justin I loved, and he just threw in this new Justin that didn’t give a shit and only cared about himself. And that scared me. “I don’t care if you get high every now and then, but that other shit…I don’t wanna date a drug addict, Justin.”

“I don’t use it. I promise.” I believe him and even though I probably shouldn’t, I know deep down that Justin is a good guy. Plus, he knows what that stuff can do to a career and would never let it take over. It’s what I respect about him. His career is his passion and he’d never jeopardize that. We lay there and I find it peaceful to listen to his heartbeat with my forehead against his chest. In New York his heartbeat was slow, easy, soothing almost. This heartbeat is faster now and I glance up at him and see him staring off into space and licking his lips. He’s nervous. He notices me staring at him and tries to smile. “This is a nice house.”

It really is a nice house and I got the master suite for the both of us. It’s what sold me when Courtney was showing me online pictures of places to stay. It’s nice, huge, a sleigh bed out of mahogany. There’s marble tub that over looks the beach and is more than big enough for two. And there’s a balcony that you can go out on with a table and lounge chairs. The downstairs is very homey and cozy, not too modern, but not like 70s-tastic grandma furniture. There’s a pool and a hot tub and it’s right on a private beach. There’s hammocks and porch swings and I got the fridge stocked with stuff I knew he liked, or hoped he liked. I had plans for us to fly out to the Keys for a day and go snorkeling. I wanted to be romantic. I told Courtney to tell whoever she needed to stock the place with candles and flowers. I even asked for champagne. There were even nice silk sheets for the bed, but took them off for just regular cotton ones when he did what he did.

I wanted it to be romantic. I…I even went to this lingerie boutique when we were in LA. I thought maybe, maybe I’d surprise him and give him what he wanted so badly in New York. I figured after a few days with just him I’d want to, and I’d be ready. My moral of waiting at least a month, or at least into love was in range was thrown out. I wanted it to be special and, and for me love was in range. He stares at me, his eyes watery and deep blue. It still is in range and I wanna grab it. “I rented it for you. I had so much planned for us.”

He sucks in a breath and pulls away from me. I just watch as he lies on his back and covers his face with his hands. “I’m an idiot, girl. I don’t even know what to say.” He pulls his hands off and stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. “I didn’t know what to do, all I knew was that you were gone and I had fucked up. Courtney and Trace talked it over last night and decided I should come and try to make things right. I was happy when Trace told me I had a chance but I was terrified ‘cause I didn’t know how I could make up for what I did. And I’m so glad you gave me the chance to talk to you.”

“She lied. She said they didn’t talk about it. She said that Trace was talking about how you hadn’t really talked about what happened.”

He laughs, just quietly for a second and turns back over to his side and shakes his head. “I don’t know why she would say that. I haven’t shut up about it. Call him and ask him, Meredith. I haven’t stopped talking about it. I couldn’t sleep last night cause Trace came home and told me I could come by today around 4. I don’t know why they scheduled us a time but they did.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night, either.” He stares at me again and this time I don’t feel awkward and I don’t want him to stop.

“Meredith…” I look in his eyes and I involuntarily sigh when his hand cups my face. He comes closer and whispers to me, brushing under my eye, across my cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going to beg you to forgive me or give me another chance. If you want me to I will, I’ll get on me knees and I’ll pitch a fit. Just know that I won’t fuck up again. I’ll try so hard, I’ll try so damn hard for you.” He sucks in a breath and I’m amazed to see him cry. It’s just one tear and he quickly brushes it away, but it makes me think. Maybe, maybe he does really care about me. Maybe he cares as much as I do.

Maybe it’s not so bad that I’m giving into him so easily.

“I want it to work, Justin. I want to be able to trust you. And I’ll forgive you and give you another chance, but I’m scared. Right now, I can’t handle a broken heart. I can’t be in the middle of promoting my album or on tour and have you treat me like that. I can accept fights. I can accept that it might not last, but I can’t accept you acting like that. That’s not who I know. That’s not the Justin I…” I take in a breath and I gulp and I just put it out there. If he gets scared and runs away then, fine. That’s his loss. But I need to be honest and I need him to know how much this means to me. “That’s not the Justin that I fell for.”

He doesn’t miss a beat and I’m surprised to see relief in his face. “Then let me show you him. Let me spend some time with you here. Let’s go back to LA and really start this. Let me even take you and show you off to Tennessee, girl.” I smile at him and he smiles back. But then it fades and he stares harder at me than, than I think I’ve ever been stared at. His forehead hits mine and he reaches to grab my hand. His eyes move down from my eyes and he sucks in a breath before looking back directly at me. “Let me fall in love with you Meredith.”

I lick my lips and feel myself pulling away a bit. He can’t just say perfect things like that. It’ll...it’ll mess me up. “Don’t just say that.”

“I’m serious. This…this isn’t a joke to me. This isn’t just for fun. I might not have wanted to realize it at first. I might have played it off that I just had the hots for you and just wanted to get in your pants, but…but this is different.” He shakes his head and wipes his eyes again. “I’ve been a mess without you, without the thought of you or the possibility of you.”

I think about what he says and agree with him. It’s what’s made me so upset, the possibility of it being really over. But it was the possibility that kept me going the past few months, that made New York and Courtney’s bad mood bearable. “It kept me going during recording and promotion,” I say to myself.

“What did?”

I look up and meet his eyes. “The possibility of you.” He slowly starts to smile and I roll my eyes and laugh at myself thinking that was clearly a ridiculous thing to say. “Was that cheesy?”

He shakes his head and scoots closer, so all his body is against mine. “If it was I wouldn’t know, ‘cause…” He sighs one of those sighs where you can just see the weight lift off someone. He holds my face and runs his fingers over my lips. In that movement I give into him, I give completely into him. “You’re smiling at me and that’s all that matters.” He kisses me, softly, testing to make sure its ok. It’s ok. It’s more than ok. I probably shouldn’t have let him in and I probably should have kicked him out as soon as he tried to get into the bed. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I wanted to believe that he really was sorry and that he really wouldn’t do it again and that…that whatever happened the other day, whatever it was that sparked that attitude was gone far away.

I believe it. And I might be a fool and I might be pathetic for doing so, but I don’t care. He deserves a second chance.

He pulls away and whispers against me. “You’re all that matters, Mere.” He studies my face and pulls me against him in a hug, kissing my neck and then leaning his head against my shoulder. “Thank you.” He says, his voice shaky.

“For…”

“Giving me a chance.”

“You know you had it to begin with.” I smile and hug him tightly. He moves so he’s lying on his back and I go with him, forced to lie on top of him.

I sit up a little bit as I lay on him, with my upper body held up by my forearms. He runs a hand up my arm and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You’ve had me from the beginning. You had me since 2 o’clock on that Sunday afternoon when you walked into the studio. And you have me now, and I’m not going anywhere and I’ll be damned if I give you a reason to leave again.”

I scoot up against him and lean down. “I won’t leave if you won’t.”

He holds my face with both his hands, smiling as he brings it down closer to his own. “I won’t give up if you won’t.”

I laugh. “We’re so pathetic.”

“We’re artists,” He shrugs and shows me a lopsided grin. “We’re allowed to be dramatic.”

I kiss him briefly and pull back and whisper to him, “And we’re aloud to make up…” He just stares at me and I go for it. I kiss him, hard. I put everything I have into that kiss. I want to give him a reason to stay, give him a reason to try his best not to mess up. And he does a pretty good job of kissing me back and giving me a reason not to give up on him. I know I should be stronger than this. I know I should be angry and talk about how he disrespected me and tell all my friends and cuss him out. But I’m a sappy little girl, bent on the hope of love. I’ll do what I have to and if that means forgive someone, then that means I’ll do it.

And he’s worth it. He might have fucked up, but I know at some point I’m going to mess up and, well I hope he’ll give me a second chance also.

Having him kick off the covers and force me on my back makes me smile and he returns it, laughing slightly. And having him lie down against me as he kisses me furiously, that’s…that’s worth it. To be reminded of all those times I fantasized about him doing this to me while we were recording, and of the times he would listen to me talk and ramble for hours, for the time in New York and all the thoughts in between, it’s worth it. I might be naïve at times, but I know a good thing when I see it.