Your eyes move to the right, to the white Escalade parked prominently in front of the building.

So much for avoiding him today. So much for avoiding him for forever.

You take a deep breath, brining your hand to the doorknob; touching it slightly and then letting it fall back to your side.

Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe in sharply and then let your breath escape through your pierced lips. This shouldn’t be a problem for you. It’s just the guys. Just your best friends, your brothers. It's just Justin.

"Just Justin," you laugh softly to no one in particular. That’s certainly an oxymoron. Especially in your life.

Your eyes fly open as you force yourself back to reality, reluctantly nonetheless, and look down at the small box in your hand, a silver ribbon tied around it. Inside the tiny white card you see your handwriting with JC’s name placed above your own. For a brief second, you contemplate leaving it on the doorstep but then curse yourself for even thinking so.

He asked you here himself. You can’t skip out on him now.

And really, you want to be here. You want to see him. See that smile. Hear that laugh. If only briefly.

You want to know that he’s ok, though you already know that. Or maybe you want to know that he’s not ok, maybe that would give some sort of validity to your heart. He said he couldn’t breathe without you; maybe part of you wants that to be true.

But once again, you push that thought to the back of your mind. You’re not supposed to be bitter. You’re not supposed to be hurt. You’re supposed to put on the most brilliant smile you can muster and go on like nothing ever happened.

But you know that something did. Something was broken. A relationship. A heart.

You’ve convinced yourself that it is only your heart that is broken. Your life that has been changed. But you know that it’s not. You know that his is too, if only slightly. You know because he’s told you. During those late night phone calls when he wants to know how you’re doing and he tells you he misses you.

But then he turns around and tells what your heart already knows, but is reluctant to admit. That you aren’t meant to be right now. That you need to find yourselves before you find each other.

And you know he’s right and you know he’s honest. You do need to find yourself. You don’t know what it’s like to be just Britney. You know he misses you. Cause you miss him too.

But that still doesn’t make the pain hurt any less or the tears flow a little slower.

This was your dream. He was your dream. And nothing hurts more than to taste the dream and then wake up to reality.

It’s not fair. But it’s life.

And you know that.

Your hand moves to the doorknob once again as that damn Jessica Simpson song begins to play in your head.

Where
Did our love go wrong
Once we were so strong
How can I go on?

Fuck!

Your head hurts as your silent screams try to overpower the melody in your mind. Fuck her for being so damn faultless. Fuck her for getting Mr. Wonderful. Fuck her for having her dream come true. Fuck her for having a song that fits your life so perfectly.

Why
Can't I just leave it all behind
I
Felt passion so bright that I was blind

And fuck yourself for actually listening to it. How fitting that the one song she has that’s actually worth listening to and its the one that kills you to hear.

But still you listen. And still you memorize the words. And still you sing the song in your head when you know that you shouldn’t.

You push through the door, giving into the song in your head as you begin to sing along with it. There’s no reason to stop the inevitable.

You walk through the front corridor, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure that the puffiness that surrounded your eyes on the drive over has disappeared. And then you hear the sound that you’ve longed to hear for some time. The laughter.

You bite your bottom lip as your heart skips slightly and you yell at yourself to control your emotions. This is certainly not the time or place to show your weakness. Not with him inside that room. Looking as perfect as the day he left you.

Taking a step backward, you glance at the mirror once again. You shrug at your not so perfect appearance and then force the fakest smile you can come up with and walk into the dreaded room.

And you are met by the dreaded stares. Most of them shocked that you actually showed up. But also happy that you did.

There’s not many people here. You knew that when you came at this time. Easy access to get in and get out before the real party actually begins and someone might notice that you were really here.

Cause the only people you want to know you’re here are the people inside the room right now, still grasping the sight of you before them.

You wonder for a second if your skirt is tucked into your underwear or if you have a piece of the broccoli you ate for lunch stuck in your teeth but then realize that they are really just happy to see you. But surprised, nonetheless.

Deciding that maybe it’s time to cut the tension, you hold the small package out in the direction that JC is setting.

"Happy Birthday," you say and he smiles, getting up from his position at the bar and walking toward you.

You allow him to engulf you in his arms and you melt into them slightly as that feeling of familiarity overwhelms you. But then you remember that people are watching and that you have to be strong so you stiffen up. And he notices, pulling back and giving you a sympathetic look before he kisses your cheek and whispers a thank you for coming.

"I’m not staying long, Jamie Lynn has rehearsals tonight and she wants me to go," you whisper, knowing that your sister has the night off. The lie stings a little less when it’s to protect your heart. Or so you think. And so you stick with it. "She gets nervous."

Your mind laughs at the irony of your own words. JL doesn’t get nervous but you sure the hell are at this moment. But they can’t know that, he can’t know that.

And for the first time, you allow yourself to remember that he’s in this room. Setting in the back corner, his eyes never once leaving you since you stepped foot inside.

You tell yourself that you should look at him. To show everyone in the room that you can. And maybe even to show yourself that you can.

And so you do. Moving your body slightly to the side so that your eyes now meet his baby blues. And you will yourself to be strong as you smile a smile that doesn’t quite meet your ears.

You wonder if he notices though you know that he does. He notices everything about you. He always has. And as his eyes break from yours and slowly move down your body, you know that he’s definitely noticing you right now and you silently commend yourself for wearing the skirt that shows off the legs you know he loves.

He always said you were a good tease so why not show it. Especially now that he no longer gets what he wants.

Or maybe no longer wants what he gets.

The hand on your arm forces your thoughts from Justin and you look to see Chris holding a glass of rum out to you. You smile at him, glad that he remembers the drink that he hooked you on. But then you push it away. "I’m driving. And really, I need to get going."

You take a step toward the door but then hear his voice. The voice you know you shouldn’t have been wanting to hear. The voice you know shouldn’t stop you dead in your tracks but does.

And so you turn, your heart somehow overpowering your mind, and you accept his smile for being what it is. Genuine.

"Stay for a few Brit. You just got here."

You glance around the room, for some reason seeking everyone’s approval to stay. And they give it to you with nods of their heads and bright smiles. They want you here as much as you want to be here though none of you want to admit it.

And before you can say anything, you feel that familiar tingle as his hand slips into yours and he begins to pull you toward the bar.

He hands you a partially drank bottle of water that you know his lips was on just before you arrived and you tell yourself to give it back to him but you don’t. Instead you take the lid off and nervously take a drink, feeling his glare on you the entire time.

"How have you been," he says softly, his concern evident. You lower your head, wanting to tell him that you feel empty and you haven’t learned how to handle the reports of his escapades. You want to tell him that you’re not sure if you can ever open your heart up to someone again and he’s the reason why. You want to tell him that he woke you up from your dream. But you don’t. Because you know that you are partially to blame though it’s easier to blame it on him.

"I’ve been good," you say, ignoring the "excepts" in your mind. Except that you miss him and your brothers more than he will ever know. Except that the media won’t leave you alone and seem intent on destroying you. Except that your aunt is sick and you’re not sure what to do. Except that you’ve lost more fans than you can fathom. Except that sometimes you think that no one loves you anymore. Except that you’re not sure if you even love yourself. Except that you sometimes hate him. Except that you still love him. Except that you hate it that you even feel this way.

You cross your legs and then place your elbow on the bar and lean against it. You nervously bite on your lip as his eyes scour you as if he hasn’t seen you for a while. And you realize that he hasn’t been this close to you in some time. Four months and twenty-three days to be exact. You close your eyes, cursing yourself for knowing that. He probably doesn’t even remember when you broke up more less how long you’ve been broke up.

"I’ve missed you." Your eyes are now as wide as saucers and your heart is beating out of control.

"I’ve missed you too." The words escape before you can stop them and as you see the way his eyes soften, you’re glad they actually did. It feels good to actually say the words that you heart has always felt. But you know it’s just that, words. Though the meaning is sincere, they still mean nothing to the situation you have both put yourselves in.

Your eyes roam around the room, looking at the faces that have been absent from your life for too long and you begin to taste that hint of bitterness in your mouth. And so you muster the nerve to ask the one question you’re not sure you can handle and you watch as his face contorts with shock.

"You seeing anyone?"

He wasn’t expecting that and you’re not sure if he knows how to answer. Which answers the question for you. But still you wait for the answer you need to hear from his mouth.

And finally he gives it to you.

"A few dates. I’ve been out with Jenna a few times but we’re just friends."

"With benefits," you scoff and instantly regret. Because as much as you hate to hear it, there’s nothing you can do about it. And as much as you hate to admit it, he has ever right to date her because he is no longer yours.

You see his jaw clench and that hint of fire in his eyes and you know that you’ve struck a nerve. You’re good at that. You always have been. No one can get a rise out of him faster than you. But you know that’s not really something to be proud of.

"What about you?" he says as he takes a long sip of the vodka in his hand. "Is Wade your friend with benefits?"

And you know you deserve that but it still doesn’t make it right so you raise an eyebrow and take the glass from his hand. You drink the rest of it and throw it down on the bar.

"Maybe." But he’s not and you subconsciously begin to count the lies you’ve told today in your head. But you pass them off because you like that look of jealousy in his eyes as he thinks about your body wrapped around his best friends.

"Wade always did want to fuck you," he hisses and you know that he wants to hurt you to cover the pain he shouldn’t be feeling. He thinks that making you feel like the slut people make you out to be will make his realization of what he’s lost a little less harmful.

But when he lowers his eyes away from yours, you know that it doesn’t. If anything, it makes him feel worse because he knows better than anyone that you aren’t a slut. As a matter of fact, you’re as close to perfect as he’ll ever get.

And maybe that’s what ruined the relationship in the first place. Your jaded picture of perfection that you project to everyone and makes them want to put you under a microscope so that they can find any imperfections that you have. But that microscope has a wide range. And Justin never liked to be under it. Nor should he.

"I don’t want to do this." His voice speaks volumes and you don’t have to look at him to understand that he is feeling exactly what you are feeling. "I don’t want us to hate each other. Because believe it or not, I only want what’s best for you."

And he does. And you can’t deny that.

"Me too." But you want to ask why he’s not best for you. But you’re afraid you already know the answer. And you’re even more afraid that the answer is correct.

Because sometimes you forget you in we. And you know that you forgot you with him. And now it’s time to find you with you.

His hand finds your and covers it protectively. "I do love you Brit." There’s no doubt that he does. There’s no doubt that he always will.

"I love you too Justin." You like the way the words flow from your lips and in your heart you believe that you will someday use them again. And for more than just a goodbye.

A tear escapes from your eye and he moves his hand to your face, wiping the dampness away and then leaving the palm of his hand on your cheek. You feel the familiar fire from his touch as he slowly caresses his thumb across you skin.

But then you hear a noise behind you and you watch as his eyes move from yours to the woman making her way across the room.

You recognize her instantly. Her dark eyes have haunted you for months now. All of those times you’ve relived Nsync’s Grammy performance. All of the times you’ve seen the picture from the club.

She smiles tentatively at you as you look her over, your mind trying to validate a reason why she intrigues him. But you already know why. Because she’s not you. And that’s a good a reason as any for him to want her. Because you’re all he’s ever known of love and maybe he just needs to know if there’s more than that out there.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you understand that. And sometimes you feel that. But you haven’t been strong enough to move on just yet.

But you will. And when you do you’re sure that he will feel that same feeling of jealousy that you are right now. And maybe then he will understand what he lost. But maybe he won’t. And maybe by then you won’t care.

You watch as Jenna stands back from him, unsure whether to take his hand or not and you realize just how uncomfortable this situation is for her, and most likely for him.

So you smile softly and watch the relief set in on her face and then you turn to leave, holding your head up high as you walk out the door and out of his life.

Because you’ve learned that life does indeed go on, whether you want it to or not.

And because you’ve learned that part of loving someone is learning to let go, that it’s the only way to make you stronger.

And as the sun shines on your face, you look back at door now closed on a period in your life, and for the first time since he left, you are content. Because you now have the knowledge that even if he doesn’t like you tomorrow, he loved you yesterday.

And at this moment, you realize, that maybe you’re ok with that.

And you make a silent promise to yourself that you will no longer cry because it’s over……you will smile because it happened.

And you will raise your head and open your heart. And you will move on. Because you are not broken……….You are beautiful.