"Ow, baby. Someone’s been doing their sit ups. Look at those abs!" Joey whistled as we filed into Riley’s bedroom. Walking in on Riley changing. I’m pretty sure that’s the sole reason why Joey wanted to stay here. Just to see Riley in her underwear. Horny bastard.

"Hey guys!’ she exclaimed. There was no blushing involved. She bounded from her position in her walk-in closet to our station in the doorway still clothed only by her black lace bra and matching short-short things (they had a name, I just couldn’t for the life of me recall exactly what it was). Exhibitionist? Riley? NO. Never. How could you think such a thing?

"I thought you were sick," I laughed as she hugged us all before stopping to press a slow kiss onto JC’s lips. He grinned, that happy, shit-eating grin as he clutched her bare waist. Lucky bastard.

"I think I’m better…Not sure though. I might still be contagious…" She clamped her hands over her mouth. "And I just kissed you!" she laughed softly before she embraced Lance. He blushed slightly– as if HE were some little innocent– and smiled bashfully as she pecked his cheek.

She sauntered towards me, a lusty look in her dark eyes as her bare feet hit the jewel-toned oriental rug. I swallowed loudly, my eyes shifting in their sockets as she bit her lip, her tongue darting out to lick the tender flesh of her lips. A wave of heat rose up from my chest and over my neck, an uncomfortable tug starting to form in the crotch on my pants. Every time. She did this every fucking time just to toy with me.

She smirked as she stood on her ruby painted tip-toes, her hands placed on my shoulder. "Justy," she purred beside me, "Where’s my hug? You sure know how to hurt a girl’s feelings." She pouted, her dark eyes still holding a sense of promised passion as she pursed her lips, waiting. I embraced her shyly as the other guys snickered and I frowned. Gettin’ played again.

She burst into a fit of laughter our embraced ended, pressing a quick kiss on my cheek. "Justin Randall Timberlake," she giggled against my ear, "I guess you’re glad to see me," she laughed heartily at her little joke before she flipped her tresses out of her eyes.

She looked down at her skimpy attire as she turned, her eyes widening. "Look at me!" she laughed as with a feigned sheepish look on her features. Riley wasn’t exactly what you would call modest. I’m not exactly sure who she was trying to fool. We all knew. "Running around like this," she said shaking her head, her newly shortened tresses bobbing in her face. She scrunched her nose, the barely visible, light, spray of freckles inching up as she did so. "Let me go change."

Joey grinned again. "Girl, it’s fine. I am not complainin’. You can walk around in your sexiness all you want," he said wiggling his eyebrows as he licked his lips. JC frowned then elbowed him and he stopped. "..Or not."

She laughed as she turned and ventured back into her room and disappearing into her large walk-in closet. The closet, which had been a dream of hers since she was young, had been modeled after the Barbie closet her Mom had given her when she was eight. Giant beveled mirrors, wooden racks and shelves lined the walls, lit by dim, golden, star-burst-shaped lights. After journeying through the jungle of clothes, there lay a beige wrap around couch and a few chairs, situated beside a massive vanity.

"You can guys can go make yourselves at home," came her muffled call, from within the closet’s depths. "Why don’t you guys head upstairs and get situated in your rooms? You know where they are. There are clean sheets on the beds and new towels in the bathrooms and the fridge is stocked. So go on and do whatever you have to do." I smiled. Riley the hostess, maybe my most favorite role.

The loft had been a college graduation present from Riley’s father. Situated in upper Manhattan, the building had been in Jim Pierson’s possession since his father’s death, and he had turned it into pricey apartment building a little after Riley’s birth. Riley had fallen in love with the loft during her childhood. She had visited it many times with her father when it had originally been storage, where her parents stored excess furniture, business files, and other miscellaneous items. But there was always something magical about it. Set at the top of the building, it overlooked one of the busier parts of Manhattan, the giant window displaying the skyline; there was always something going on– just the way Riley liked it.

I followed the guys as we trickled out towards the stairs. JC and Joey split off in the direction of the kitchen while Chris and Lance headed up the wooden stairs, towards the rooms. I stopped in the main room and dropped my bags, taking it all in. The main room was a favorite of mine. High, airy ceilings and wide wooden floor space. Tall, grand furniture. A monstrous marble fireplace stood in the center of the main wall, tall bookcases lining most of the others. Lamps stood tall above a few overstuffed white couches and chairs that were situated on the beautiful hardwood floors, all centered around glass coffee table which was always piled with fashion magazines. The entire room screamed of Riley. Beautiful, traditional pieces with a modern twist. I suppose houses always took on the personality of those who dwelled within them. That’s what made them that person’s home. But my house was never a home to me. No matter how long I stayed there, it never felt right. There was nothing comforting about it, no matter how hard I tried. It was never a part me. I never wanted it to call it my home. But Riley’s loft, felt like home to me. Something about it, just clicked. Maybe it was the woman who lived in it, but something about it, just felt like home.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered behind me as I looked out the towering, glass sheet of a window that took up most of one of the walls.

I turned slowly, my eyes straying from the beautiful city, as she grinned. "Your hair looks good," I replied softly. Her eyes caught the sun’s mid-afternoon beams, and sparkled a deep chestnut– a perfect counterpart for the slim smile that played over her lips.

She scrunched her nose and closed her eyes as she shook her head in objection. "I don’t think so," she answered, shrugging her bony shoulders. "It’s too short. But whatever."

I smiled thinly before turning towards the skyline again, watching as a plane lazily jetted through the clouds. She placed a warm hand on my shoulder as I watched, and I felt contented, my eyes closing for a split second before she broke my reverie with a deep sigh. "You look worn," she whispered softly, turning me.

I let out a sigh, mirroring hers, our eyes meeting for a moment before I turned back towards the horizon. "I’m fine," I answered, strongly. But inside I felt tired, ragged, like I could collapse at any second. It seemed to be a permanent state these days. Day after day of drilling stress and nothing to relieve it. I prayed that maybe she’d do the trick.

She smirked, nodding her head as her eyes turned towards the window pane. "Justin," she answered softly, "Don’t lie to me please. It insults me that you think you can sneak one past me. Really, Justin. I’d think that you’d just cut to the chase by now." She paused looking up towards me as she gnawed at her lip. "I’m gonna get it out of you sooner or later."

I smiled. "I’m fine, really Ry. I mean I’m tired, but it’s nothing out of the usual. I just need some rest, spend a few days with my favorite girl. I can’t think of anything that would make me happier," I laughed as I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her from the ground.

She narrowed her eyes towards me as I set her down, examining me. She stopped as she came to the conclusion that I was telling the truth, and grinned. "Okay, well, take it easy, J," she answered softly. "You know I worry about you."

"I know, Ry. I’m fine, sweetheart." I looked up as Joey and JC reentered the family room with sandwiches and beers, and plopped down in front of the big screen TV.

"49ers versus Rams!" screeched Joey in-between bites of his hefty sandwich. He held it between his fingers, trying his damnedest to hold it together as the roll began to slide across the lettuce. "Damn lettuce," he cursed under his breath. "That’s what I get for putting a fucking vegetable in my triple meat sandwich." Riley and I chuckled as we headed towards the couch to join them, Riley plopping down beside JC as I took a chair beside them. "Hey baby," JC whispered tenderly as she rested her head against JC’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She sighed contentedly before sliding her slim fingers across JC’s midsection, a slow grin inching it’s way across his features. She opened her eyes leisurely, and sighed, a slow, pleased smile traveling across her lips.

"Mm," she answered sleepily, as she cuddled closer to his frame, her lips pressing a gentle kiss into the side of his neck.

"You gonna fall asleep, angel?" he asked gently as he spread a soft white, fleece blanket across her frame. She nodded as she yawned like a little child and licked her lips, her head now tucked on one of the throw pillows. He slung his arm across the curve of her hip as his attention turned back towards the game, a thin smile lifting the corners of his mouth. They both looked genuinely happy for once. Maybe it was a side-effect of her sleepiness, but she looked almost numb with bliss; that content, almost radiant look in her eyes reminding me of before they had broken up; that first time when it was actually right. It shook me a little, seeing her like this. As if the fact that someone else could make her happy, make her look entirely at peace, threatened me.

"Love you, Ry," he whispered after a moment as she started to fall asleep, his lips meeting with hers gently.

She closed her eyes slowly, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek before she uttered the words I had heard her say so many times. "I love you too." This time it actually sounded like she meant it.

"Riley," he whispered softly as we sat at dinner, the soft glow of the candle at the center of the circular table illuminating the angular lines of his jaw.

I stared blankly towards the three, pinkish-coral roses that stood limply in the vase beside the candle. "Hmm?" I asked, shifting my gaze back towards him.

"You okay?" he asked, eyeing his glass of red wine, the deep burgundy color reminding me of blood. He tapped his fingers rhythmically, his left hand resting across the table. I smiled meekly and pressed my hand on top of his, my eyes connecting with his briefly before I looked away. We had chosen one of Clark’s favorite joints, Piatti’s, a tiny Italian place just down the block from Clark’s restaurant.

Dinner had been nice. Reminiscent of old times. There was conversation untainted by the pressing subject of sex, like when we had been friends. I genuinely liked JC, don’t get me wrong. Maybe that’s why I felt so bad about the nature of our relationship. Before he was a lover-gone-wrong, he had been my friend; one of my very best friends.

He smiled at my dazed state, squeezing my fingers before he took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine. "How’s work?" he asked as I smiled, tugging at the straps of my crocheted, gypsy-style, ivory dress. The damn thing had always been just a tad too low in the front.

"Tiring," I replied softly, as I pressed my lips together. I suddenly became aware of the ruby-tinted lipstick that shaded my lips and the awkward, worn-too-long feeling that accompanied it. I frowned before pressing my lips together again, sighing as I realized that looking attractive was just not worth it. He read my mind and let out a little laugh before he leaned back into his chair, his eyes still focused onto mine. I withered beneath his stare, those deep sapphire orbs of his chilling, so dark with an intensely strong passion. His hair was dark against the painted walls, his skin a warmed peach. He was inviting to me, enchanting to say the least, his beauty gripping the breath from deep within my chest until I begged for him. "We’ve taken on so many accounts we hardly have enough people to manage them," I continued, "I’d love to hire new people, but it’s such a pain in the ass. And once you’ve got one, it’s hard not to stick with them."

He nodded, his mind wandering for a moment before he smiled. "That just might be the best part about my job. It’s hassle-free in the firing sense for the most part. I can’t imagine putting up with some of the shit that you go through everyday." He took a bite of the cheesecake that sat before him on a china plate, a deep fuschia, raspberry sauce drizzled over it’s creamy center.

"It’s something you never get used to," I agreed as I took deep sip of my coffee. It was sweet, a half cup of black coffee, mixed with milk and sugar– a teenage habit that I just hadn’t been able to kick. "How’s your line of work?" I asked as a smirked, my mind racing through the montage of images I got when I thought of what he did.

"Tiring," he replied wittily, a smiling quickly pressing over his lips before he continued. "It’s the same old, same old. You kind of get sick of the bullshit you know? I mean I really would like to just go somewhere without the ‘special’ treatment. I can still do shit for myself…I think." He shook his head in disgust as he bitterly spat the words, his eyes turning harsh and cold. They flashed an icy shade of gray as he spoke, his voice quickening with his words before it finally died down, the calm after the storm.

"It’s good to have someone who grounds you," he added, stroking my hand for a half-second before he stopped, looking away towards the couple seated to the left of us. "Makes you appreciate the little things, like this. This is perfect."

I smiled meekly and nodded, "Yeah, perfect."

I wasn’t in love with him. Not one bit. With each touch, each lie, I disgusted myself. I was an actress, the world’s greatest actress, I just played a role. I only played a part, only pretended that I loved him. Only pretended. The only problem was that he wasn’t. Not one part of him was pretending. It was all real. All completely real. His gentle kiss on my lips, the tender touch of his fingers against my skin, his love. It was all genuine.

But it wasn’t him. And that seemed to be my biggest problem. No matter how hard I tried, there was an aching numbness. The kind that’s drilling, driving slowly into your bones, the one that makes you cringe until the entire sensation consumes your body. And it wouldn’t go away. It was constant, like I was on emotional auto-pilot. Something about me just wasn’t right. Broken. I think that was the best way to describe it. At all times, I felt broken. Like the wires had been disconnected and I couldn’t feel. And I desperately wanted to be fixed.

I had originally thought that the numb feeling was due to my inexperience in the dating field. During my first year of college, I had become seriously involved with JC. I was completely content to have my life revolve around him. I did anything and everything to please him and he did the same for me. But I grew tired of it after a while. I didn’t want to work so hard to make him happy, to change myself just to please him– no matter how much I loved him. Questioning my relationship with him began to become a regular occurrence. And I couldn’t stand it. I tried to push myself into that position again, to being that perfect little girlfriend who was always by his side. But just the idea of it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted something more.

My mother’s death was not a shock to me. We had all seen it coming. The years of excessive drinking alone in her room had finally caught up with her. Liver failure. But in the end, it seemed to be a blessing in disguise. It managed to put the both of us, my mother and myself, out of our misery so to speak. She got away from the loneliness that had consumed her for so long, and I had a reason to push JC away. A very viable reason. I wasn’t at all surprised when he told me that he had cheated on me, that he had slept with the tour’s resident makeup artist. I had expected it. But I hadn’t expected how much it hurt. The pain was very real, just the feeling of knowing someone I loved had been unfaithful was crushing, almost to the point of being unbearable. It made me almost miss him.

After our breakup, I felt like I needed a change. An awakening. Something to snap me out of the daze my life had become in the aftermath of my mother’s death. So I dated. Quite liberally in fact. Sifting through almost ten men in the past year, none of the relationships really ever amounting to anything. But after the men, all nine of them, I still felt deadened. Lifeless. And maybe that’s why I turned back to JC. There was nothing I wanted more than to rekindle the love we had once shared. It had been ultimately amazing. The one that had made me feel so alive. That too failed.

I sat up in bed, pushing myself out from underneath JC’s arm. He snored quietly beside me, smacking his lips as I got up, my feet meeting with the cold wood floor. I padded across it stealthily, turning the doorknob. I cringed as the door creaked open, and turned my head towards JC, who still slept unknowingly, his arm taking now command of a pillow.

I slipped down the hall and up the flight of stairs to the second level of the loft, which held Clark’s bedroom as well as the five guest bedrooms. I passed the first three bedrooms then opened the door to the fourth. It creaked open and revealed my grandmother’s old wooden bed frame and the man who slept in it. He tossed restlessly in his sleep, a frown taking over his fair features as he pushed a pillow off the side of the bed. I smirked gently, before approaching him, and crawling up the side of the bed and into the French blue sheets. I wrapped his arms around my frame, and closed my eyes, contented by his warm touch.

"We really gotta stop meeting like this, Ry," he groaned as he flipped on the bed side light. "What time is it?"

"3:22," I answered softly, trying to conceal the fact that there were tears in my eyes.

"Riley?" he asked softly. "Baby, look at me."

I turned, a tear finally escaping the confines of my eyes, and slipping down my cheek. He reached out to wipe it away, his thumb brushing across my skin, stopping just beneath my chin. "Justin," I whispered, collapsing limply against his frame. "I can’t do this anymore," I began to tremble against him, my hand resting on his shoulder for support. "I can’t keep pretending."

"Pretending what?" he asked thoroughly confused. I couldn’t tell if it was because he had just woken up or not. He shook his head, those puffy curls of his bouncing with his movement before he swallowed and turned his eyes back towards me.

Another tear trailed down my skin, leaving a silvery trail of residue in it’s wake. "Justin," I whispered almost quietly enough so he wouldn’t hear. "I don’t love him."

"That’s okay, Riley," he answered with a slow, little amused chuckle. "You don’t have to love him. No one said you have to love him. You’re only 23, no one needs to be in love at 23. You’ve got forever." He placed a hand on my back, I think it was supposed to comfort me. Not his best work.

"But Justin," I sobbed back, "I tell him I do," I reached out to touch his hand, the warmth it always held comforting me. "I tell him I do and I don’t. I’m using him, Justin. He loves me and I just sit here and I lie to him. All of it, it’s lies. I am a horrible person. I feel dirty…"

"…and the worst part about it," I continued as the tears continued to streak down my face, "is I don’t feel anything at all."

"What do you mean, baby? You’re one of the most passionate people I know, you feel everything. There’s not one thing in your life you’re not passionate about. Your work, your friends…"

"No I don’t!" I cried, "I don’t. With all of those men, I thought at least one of them, I’d care about. One of them, I’d want something with. They were all handsome, Justin. They were all smart, rich. Perfect. And all I felt was numbness. I just wanted it to stop so I could go home and sleep. And JC," I whispered, "JC, he’s perfect. Absolutely perfect, Justin. And he loves me, he genuinely loves me. And I don’t feel anything…There’s nothing there. It hurts."

He bowed his head and licked his lips slowly as he processed what I had just told him. He looked up at me and kissed my forehead gently.

"Please don’t tell anyone, Justin. I could never have him find out. He’s so happy and I…" I stopped. "I just don’t want to hurt him."

He looked at me strangely before he nodded. Then he held me; tenderly. His warm touch slowly melting away the pain before I was numb again and finally fell to sleep.

I awoke slowly, sleep slowly rising from me as I stretched my arms over my head, my knuckles knocking against the deep wood bed frame. She slept peacefully beside me, her hands tucked in fists beneath her chin, her lips parted with sleep. I smiled softly as I watched her slumber against me, her head pressed against the side of my bare chest. I let out a low yawn as I turned my head towards the clock on the beside table, the hands alarming me that it was well into the morning.

"Ry," I whispered harshly, a sharp tone tugging at my voice, "You need to get up, sweetheart." JC had been fairly tolerant towards the unusual dynamics of our friendship, but I had a feeling that he wouldn’t be so kind if he found the two of us in such a compromising position. I tapped my fingers across her flesh, causing her eyelashes to flutter open slowly, before shutting again tiredly, her hand raising and limply curving onto my bicep.

"Justin," she answered softly, her voice muffled by sleep, "I don’t particularly want to get up right now," she said as she tugged the rich blue sheets tighter around our frames. She frowned as I slid from beneath her, sending her to plop onto the sheets with a garbled bounce. "That was not very nice."

"I know," I answered with a laugh, "but it’s almost 11. JC’s going to be up and I doubt he’s going to like the fact that his girlfriend is laying in bed with his best friend." I pushed her and she rolled over, almost falling off of the bed.

"Justin!" she whined as she shook her hair out and stood. "You suck. I take a day off of work and I think I’m going to get some much needed sleep, but no. Nooo.. I have to get pushed off the bed and woken at…" she glanced at the clock, "10:47. You SUCK."

"Thanks," I laughed in reply, shaking my head at her as she stood before me, clearly in a snit. "Ray, sometimes you’re just too funny for you’re own good."

"I wasn’t trying to be funny!" she exclaimed, her brow creasing deeply before she let out a little whimper. "Where’s my sleeping partner anyways?" she huffed as she stuck both hands on her hips. She threw the comforter back onto the bed and opened the door, looking down the hall.

Her sleeping partner. In other words, Joey. Sometimes Lance but usually Joey. Apparently neither JC nor I were in her words, "comfy" enough so she would frequently nap with Joey who assumed the role of her giant teddy bear.

"Really. I wanna go and see Joe. He’s way nicer than you are. Maybe then I can get some sleep. If you weren’t so damn bony, those hips of yours, I swear…"

"Yeah. When he doesn’t fart."

She let a little giggle escape her lips before she shook her head, "No…He only did that once."

I raised an eyebrow. "That you know of."

She burst into a short session of uncontrollable giggles before she covered her mouth, her deep gray eyes lighting with laughter. "Justin, you’re horrible."

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