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hi.

i knooowwwww, i'm a horrible person for not updating in 384792653892701 years-- but in my defense, i did say no promises with this one! but really, i just want to thank everyone for bumping and keeping this story somewhat a-float. with all the amazing stories posted on this board, i'm truly thankful that you guys have been thoughtful enough to keep bumping this story

so here is the next chapter-- very long overdue, but better late than never, right? anyways, nothing too exciting but definitely something to get you "itching" ! hope you enjoy and thank you, thank you, thhaannkkk youuuuu again to all of you!

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Chapter 7: Waiting

The thing about Justin is that when you break him down into categories, he's not all that great. Justin is really just, well, to put it simply, "average". I know I probably sound like I'm on drugs right now saying something like that, but it's the truth.

Look-wise, he's not overtly good looking. He doesn't have that blatant, in-your-face kind of attractiveness that some people were fortunately just born with. And his nose is huge. If you think it looks big on TV and in pictures, you should see it up close and personal. It's really fucking huge. And his skin isn't that smooth. It's a little rougher, a little more coarse to the touch. And when it comes to intelligence, you'd be more than surprised to find out that he sometimes lacks common sense. There's even this running joke between everyone on the tour and Justin about how much of a "blonde" he actually is.

He's also more conservative than he likes to admit. Or maybe I'm just more liberal than I'd like to admit. I don't know. Either way, Justin has some pretty straight-laced views on certain situations and issues, some of which I believe are absolutely ignorant on his part but that's a whole other story.

As for dancing, yeah, he's got some pretty slick moves. But a real dancer can easily see that all that fancy footwork can be broken down into basic steps. Believe it or not, there are hundreds of phenomenal dancers out there that can flat-out put Justin to shame on the dance floor.

I guess the only thing that I can't really nitpick at is his voice. It's undeniably flawless; and while he's no Christina Aguilera, he certainly has an exceptional set of pipes.

But despite all these "flaws" or whatever you want to call them, what I've come to realize is that what it really adds up to is the big picture. Because when you put the looks, the personality, and the talent all together… Justin Timberlake can be lethal.

And his toxic-ness has already poisoned me.

I guess it's been building for a while now, but I never really let myself fall into it. I figure that I was lucky enough to just tour with him. Although lately, I've been finding myself inching closer and closer to that edge that I know will launch me into an entirely different world that I've never experienced before. And I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

I can't exactly pinpoint when I started succumbing to this idea of Justin and I being "romantically involved", but I guess if I had to be specific, it would probably be a couple days after our birthdays. At the end of the Montreal show, the crowd started singing Happy Birthday to Justin and halfway through the song, he stopped them to mention that it was my birthday too. Before I knew it, I was being pulled up onto the stage and into the spotlight as a crowd of 20,000 people sang Happy Birthday. Of course I was blushing and trying to run off stage the whole time, but Justin kept his arm around me and just laughed.

When we finally made our way out of the arena and back onto the buses, I found a individual sized cake with, 'Happy Birthday to us!', written on the top in hot pink icing sitting on my bunk. Next to it was a Post-It note from Justin simply stating, 'Sorry for not telling you. Happy 25th, T. -J'.

It wasn't anything particularly creative or unique, and I'm sure that his personal assistant had a good hand in setting it all up; but nonetheless, it was thoughtful and genuine. And, I really hate admitting this but I felt my eyes well up a little bit. I was actually a bit surprised at that considering that I'm not really an emotional person. There have only been three people in life who've ever seen me cry, and I'm not saying that like I'm proud of it but more-so to prove my point. If a little cake and a Post-It note was enough to affect me the way it did, what the fuck is going to happen if I actually start falling for him? I would rather have hell freeze before I turn into one of those emotional, basket case chicks that cry every time they watch The Notebook.

"You owe me cake," I hear a voice, breaking me out of my thoughts. My eyes move from the TV to Justin's face.

"Excuse me?" There's no way I'm about to go roam around New York City by myself to go fetch Mr. Superstar some fucking cake. He's got to be delusional.

"You didn't save any cake for me." He can't possibly be serious. I ate that cake more than a week ago and he's bringing this up now?

"I assumed that was a gift."

"Yeah, a gift you were supposed to share with another celebrant. Me." His eyes flash at me for a second before he makes his way around the coffee table, plopping down next to me on the small couch. "If I remember correctly, the cake said, 'Happy Birthday to us'… not just 'Happy Birthday, Tanith'."

That smug look that he gets every time he has to prove point is staring me right in the face. God, he is such a little prick.

"Well if you'd like, I could force a finger down my throat and vomit it all back up for you. How 'bout that?" My head snaps in his direction as he scrunches his face up in disgust. I finally let out a laugh before reverting my attention back to the Sex and the City episode playing on the TV.

I hear Justin sigh heavily and feel him scoot lower on the couch as his head hits my shoulder. I look down at him before instinctively shifting my arm back so I can run my hand over his shaved head. It's kind of an odd position, but it's comfortable. It isn't long until I hear Justin's breathing even out and deepen. I struggle to keep my own eyes open but with every breath he takes, I feel my lids dropping lower and lower.

But before I allow myself to drift into a sweet sleep, I can't help but feel a small smile creep up on me.

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I know she thinks I'm asleep and I feel kind of bad that I'm actually not. My head is pressed up against the side of her breast now, and as odd and twisted as this may sound, it's relaxing and calming. It just feels too good to fall asleep. I don't know what it is but there's just something about a woman's touch that can put a man at ease.

It's been about a week since that whole episode with Cameron, and I really am feeling a lot better about this relationship and love stuff. It's like this new perspective has given me a whole new lease on life, and I feel relieved knowing that I don't have to seek love out… that I can just take my time and enjoy other things going on in my life.

Like this moment that I'm having right now with Tanith.

I haven't told her. I didn't tell her that I slept with Cameron last week and I don't really know why. I think it's maybe because I just haven't had-no, haven't felt, a reason for me to tell her about it. Or maybe it's because I'm scared that she'll get pissed and this whole unspoken thing we have for each other will end before it can actually begin.

I don't really know what I'm expecting out of this thing that we have going on, but I do know that I want something. But like I've said, I'm letting things take its own course. I'm not going to harp on it like I used to.

Well, at least not as much.

Luckily for me, things have really started picking up with the tour so I'm not getting as much free time to just sit around and ponder. Sure, there's been a lot more pressure with this tour because vocally, it's a hell of a lot more demanding than the Justified tour. I'm constantly trying to think of new ways to keep the show fresh and exciting for every crowd because honestly, I know that there's going to be a hell of a lot more shows and the last thing I want is for the crew to get sick of seeing and hearing and doing the same fucking shit night after night.

I feel Tanith shift against me a little and I realize that she's probably in a really uncomfortable position for sleeping. Smiling to myself as a quiet snore seeps out of her mouth, I slowly sit up, still being mindful that my body was what was supporting hers from falling flat onto the couch. Once I'm completely upright, I carefully stand and guide her body down, lifting her bent legs up on the couch so she can lie down. Damn, she must be so wiped. Pardon the cockiness when I say this, but when you're on a major tour like mine, there's bound to be a time when you just completely want to commit suicide because you're so fucking tired.

With a deep sigh, I place a light kiss on the side of her forehead and head into the other room so she can rest up before tonight's show. As I make my way back to my dressing room, I feel my phone vibrate and fish it out of my pocket, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips at the name flashing on the caller id. I flip my phone open as I continue to make my way to my dressing room, nodding and silently greeting some of the crew on my way.

"What's up, fucker?"

"Man, fuck you! What, you can't pick up a fucking phone anymore?" The question makes me laugh loudly just as I reach my door. Pushing it open, I kick it back to close it and head over to the couch.

"Shit, I've been busy man. You know this." My ears are met with a loud scoff, which only makes me smile even bigger as I plop down on the couch.

"Yeah, busy dry humping and getting lap dances every night from your fucking strippers… oh wait, wait, I mean your 'dancers'…"

"Aye' man, don't be jealous of my luxurious lifestyle," I smirk into the phone. I hear a scoff as I plop down onto the couch while throwing an arm behind my head.

"Whatever, dude. Don't forget that I still have the rights to that tell-all book…" A loud, boisterous laugh escapes my lips and I suddenly realize how much I miss my best friend.

It didn't use to be so bad before because Trace was my personal assistant, but now since he's taken over William Rast, we haven't been able to spend very much time together. Shit's really been blowing up for him and I'm not saying that I'm not happy for him, but sometimes I find myself wishing that he would just say fuck-it to everything and come back and hang with me.

"So what's up man? I haven't talked to you in a minute…" I ease out.

"Man, just busy as fuck… working on the line and shit."

"Yeah? How's it going?"

"Good, good. We got some pretty tight ideas," I hear him sigh before changing topics. "So how's your girl?"

Shit, I almost forgot I told him about Tanith. After the shit-show with Cameron on my birthday, I called Trace like a fucking girl and gossiped and complained about all my girl troubles.

"Well first of all, she's not my 'girl',"

"Still? What the fuck man, I thought you said you were gonna ask her out and shit…" I run a hand over my tired face. I always have to repeat shit to this kid a million times before he gets it.

"I told you, I'm just letting it take its course. I'm not fucking planning any moves."

"Man, you're just being a pussy," Trace spits out.

"Yeah, well what about Joanna, huh'? What's goin' on there," I argue back.

"Bitch, she is my girl!" He shrieks. I let out a chuckle and check my watch as I sigh. Almost showtime.

"I'm just playing, man… but seriously, I'm just gonna wait it out. See where it can go, ya' know?"

"Alright, but just keep in mind that the longer you drag shit out, the harder it's gonna be." I smile tenderly at Trace's softer side. It's not often that it comes out but when it does, I know he really means it.

"I know. But listen, I gotta go… don't wanna keep my 'strippers' waiting," I joke. Trace laughs lightly and I can imagine him rolling his eyes and flipping me off.

"Whatever. Have a good show, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks man. I'll give you a call in a couple days, and tell Jo I said what's up."

"For sure… later, J."

"Later," I breathe out before hesitating lifting my body back into a sitting position, arms over my knees as I flip my phone aimlessly between my hands. I continue to stare at the blank wall in front of me and begin to feel those familiar anxiety feelings again prickling through my veins, telling me that I need to find someone fast. Itching to find 'the one'.

Fuck, this is waiting it out shit is going to be a lot harder than I thought.