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by Kellyanne Lynch 25 October 2001, 6:10 PM - Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Britney Spears, Johnny Wright, any member of *N SYNC, or any random made-up tech guy in this story. It is purely FICTION, hence the genre fanFICTION!!! Oh, I am not any of these people either. Though, when I sing in the shower, I can convince myself that I am. This story is just for fun. That's its purpose. That, and improving my writing. All right, enough with disclaiming. Author's Note: If you notice right under my name, this story is still being written. I usually don't post if I haven't finished a 'fic yet, but I HAD to!!! Today's the day when Britney's album hits stores!!! [BTW, I got down to KMART right after they opened and picked up my copy of the album, along with a free poster] Another note: This isn't the first story I've written where Britney is a lead character. Believe it or not, I have a Red Hot Chili Peppers story where Britney's in the lime light. If you're interested, the name of it is "Would You Suffer My Reality?" Justin makes a cameo too, but let me just tell you, he's not very nice in that one. Oh, hey, some of you might have the same problem that I do. How do you place a fic about Justin and Britney? Is it *N SYNC or Britney Spears? I'm putting it here, because it seems to be more focused on her. ANYWAY... long author's note. I should get on with the story. Oh, another thing: the name of this story comes from the title of an article in a teenybopper magazine. Summary: Is Britney's greatest obstacle in completing her album the man she loves? Rating: PG * Please email dearjoan@mikeypower.com with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom -------------------------------------------------------- 1: Mayonnaise She glanced up from her notebook. The figure across from her cocked his head to the right. Leaning to that side, he hugged his torso. And heaved a sigh. His fingers twitched against his gray Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt. His cargo pant bearing left leg bobbed as the Niked foot beneath thumped a 4/4 beat. Another sigh. Head shifting to the left. Britney's eyes ran over his and found the shimmery, azure pair gazing back at her. She shook her head. Heaving a sigh of her own, she swept a loose strand of her bleached blond mane behind her left ear. She widened her chocolate toned eyes, then blinked, then widened them again. She lowered her head and stared back at her notebook. The page before her held scribbly scrawls, and she perused them. The words weren't making sense. The penmanship was legible, the words spelled correctly throughout most of the piece. They formed proper sentences. Still. Wagging her head, she glanced up again. This time, the figure across from her was scratching at the golden spikes that crowned his head. The arm lowered and returned to his midsection. The girl grabbed her water bottle and took a swig. Through the clear plastic bottle, she saw a pair of eyes still staring back at her. She set down the bottle. Cleared her throat. And glanced down at the page again. Her eyes scanned the text. Scrunching up her nose, she shook her head. That should be an 'a', not a 'the'. She drew a line through the word and wrote 'a' over it. Breath hissed from the lips of the one across the table. This time when she looked up, she found that the individual had flopped the upper half of his body across the table. He propped up his chin on folded hands. Wide, glossy eyes stared at her. She slapped her pen to the table. "Justin! What?" Justin Timberlake closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath, then released it, his lips vibrating as the air escaped. Looking at her again, he murmured, "It's nothing, Brit Brit!" Britney Spears rubbed the bridge of her nose. When she lowered her hand, she found black mascara smudges on her thumb and forefinger. She scowled at it. Then raised her eyebrows. "Baby, you've been here all week! Don't you want to go out and have fun on your break?" Justin swiped his forearm across his nose. "But, but I AM having fun!" Furrowing her brow, Britney eyed him. "Watching me work on song lyrics is fun?" "Just BEING with you is fun, Pinky!" She drew a hand to her forehead and sighed. "Baby," she breathed, "it's just tough to work when you're here!" The *N Syncer's lower lip jutted out. He winced. "You mean... you want me to go away?" Britney looked back at her boyfriend, into the deep, midnight eyes welling with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. She frowned. "No, that's not what I mean! It's... I just have a hard time writing with you watching me like that." Justin sat up straight. A groove across his chin stood out, one that the table's edge had impressed upon him. He scratched his head, knit his brow, and looked away. "Oh." He stood, and wandered out of the room. The soles of his shoes squeaked as he dragged them across the hardwood floor. The sound faded to silence. Complete silence. Britney raised her pen. She scanned its white plastic exterior, its black miniature text, the conical piece that stuck out just past the tips of her fingers. Lowering her hand, she touched the pen tip to the page. All this song really needed now was a bridge. Maybe... She bit her lower lip. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she squinted into the lamp by the far window. It lit up strips of the pastel purple curtains, in turn shadowing what was not within its reach, casting those pieces of fabric into outer darkness. In front of the curtain, just under the lamp, a wooden chair glowed back at Britney. She looked at it, running her eyes over its flat, smooth backing, at the posts that stood as sentinels on either side. The peach lily print cushion sat crooked on the polyurethane surface, half of it sticking out over the edge of the seat. Britney raised a bare foot and slid the cushion back all the way onto the chair. Then adjusted its positioning with the tips of her toes. Shifted it to the left, to the right, back to the left again. Then stopped. Her foot slapped to the floor. She sat splayed legged, staring off into space. Words floated about in her head, spoken words that whispered themselves to her and pieced together into phrases. Her lower lip drooped, and she mouthed the words. She drew her pen to the page. "Hey, Britney?" a voice called from the other room, crashing into her mind and colliding with her thoughts. "Mustard or mayonnaise?" The phrases shattered into pieces and dissipated. Britney clenched her eyes shut. "What?" "Muh- stahrd," the voice drawled, and hung on each syllable. "Oh-wer may-oh-nnaise-uh?" Gulping down the forming lump in her throat, Britney held a hand over her forehead. The muscles in her face tensioned. "I heard you, Justin! Why are you asking me that?" A face popped into the doorway, illuminated by a cheesy grin. Pearly whites gleamed at her. "I'm making you a sandwich!" He announced, his words doused with cheer. "Do you want mustard or mayonnaise?" Britney's features softened, and she lowered her hand to the table top. "Mustard, I guess." "If you're worried about it, it's low fat mayonnaise," Justin replied with glee. A hand clutching a jar appeared in the doorway. "And it's REALLY good!" Britney pursed her lips, and mentally counted to five before responding. "I'll just have mustard." Another hand moved to unscrew the lid of the jar. "At least try some first!" "Justin..." "Oh, come on!" The boy stepped into the room, and plodded toward her with pattering toddler steps. He seized her left hand and dipped it into the jar. Mayonnaise squished beneath her rounded, rose-toned nails and glazed her fingers, all the way to the second knuckles. Justin pulled her hand from the jar. When he saw her fingers, he released one of his typical, insane guffaws. "Aw, I didn't mean to cover you in it!" he spoke though his laughter. "Here, I'll go get a towel." Justin jogged toward the doorway, calling over his shoulder, "TASTE it!" As Justin disappeared into the other room, Britney lapped her index finger. A smile swept across her lips. "It IS good!" she exclaimed. "Told ya!" Justin's voice called back. He reappeared in the main room with a maroon dish towel. Wrapping the cloth around her fingers, he caressed her hand through the towel. His eyes caught hers watching his face. He looked up from his work and smiled. "There, now!" he smirked, withdrawing the towel. "All better!" She watched his lashes flutter as he blinked a few times. Then his eyes focused on hers in an intense gaze. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. They lingered there, then pressed into them. Britney's gaze slid downward. As she closed them, her eyes met with fiery, boxy numbers that burned themselves into her retinas. The numbers flashed across the inside of her eyelids. Which promptly flew open. She laid a hand against his chest and pushed him back. "I'm sorry," she spoke as she drew a breath. She exhaled the words. "I really have to work on this song." Justin grimaced. "All right," he sighed. "I understand." He gave her a peck on the lips before standing upright. "I love you, Britney!" Her lips curved into a smile. "I love you, too!" The boy beamed. Pivoting on his left foot, he turned and trotted into the next room. Britney smiled after him, before her sights slid back to her notebook. She squinted at the page. WHAT was she doing again? The bridge! Yes, the bridge! She had the perfect lyrics for it too... Her head ran down the back of her head, along her silken hair, and took up a strand of sunshine. Twirling it around her index finger, she pursed her lips. And furrowed her brows. What HAD she come up with for the bridge anyway? RING! She gasped, and bolted in her seat. Metal clattered against metal in the other room, staccato footsteps following. "Spears residence!" the voice echoed into the main room. A brief pause, and it proceeded in a whisper. Britney raised her head. Narrowing her eyes, she strained to hear the whisper. The only word that made sense in the entire conversation was "Chris". Minutes later, Justin whisked through the doorway, toting a silver serving tray and a brilliant smile. He reminded her of a little boy who was bringing his mommy breakfast in bed on mother's day. He set the tray down over her notebook. Britney scanned the surface. A glass of milk loomed over a beige bowl brimming with apple slices. A mammoth slice, about the size of one third of an apple, sat amongst normal slices, and some that looked more like potato chips. Carrot sticks were scattered across the pearly plate beside it. Again, some were twigs while others were logs. A few leaned up against sandwiches... Two very fat sandwiches. Britney held a hand out to the tray, and raised a brow at her boyfriend, eying him. "Oh! This one has mustard," Justin pointed to the sesame seeded sandwich to the left, "and this one has mayonnaise." His hand glided over the other. He gave her a toothy grin. "Baby," Britney grimaced, raising a hand to her face. A pink sweatered sleeve hung past her fingers, and she jiggled her hand until it slipped back down her arm. She scratched her nose. "I can't eat both of these," she voiced. "That's okay," Justin shrugged, plopping back into the chair across from her. "I'll just take the other one!" Britney nodded. Her hands went for the sandwich on the left. As she raised it to her lips, she glanced over the bun. Her eyes met with a disheartened, puppy dog stare. She paused. "What?" "You're not going to have the one with the mayonnaise?" he asked. He looked like someone had just slapped him across the face. Britney sighed. "But, but if I don't eat it, then that means you can have it." "But I want you to have the better sandwich," his voice cracked. "Baby, I prefer mustard anyway!" "You really don't want that one?" His brows lowered, closer to welling eyes. Britney dropped the sandwich. She threw her arms up, and they slapped to her sides. "Justin, why are you making such a big deal over this?" He shrugged. Britney pushed the tray closer to her boyfriend. "Just take the one with the mayonnaise. Or the mustard. Just pick one!" Her voice raised with each statement, the last almost qualifying as shouting. Justin winced. Trembling fingers wrapped around a sandwich. He stood and sauntered to the picture window with it. Back facing his girlfriend. Sighing, Britney took up the sandwich she had just dropped. She slid the tray all the way across the table, unveiling her notebook. She took a bite of the sandwich. A bitter bite. Rubbing her temples with her thumb and forefinger, she raised her head. Her hand dropped to her side. She watched after Justin's back, as it rose and fell with each breath. She realised they were in harmony with her own. She chewed on the bread, lettuce, tomato, and mustard combination in her mouth, and swallowed. "Justin, I'm sorry," she exhaled. He twitched. "I didn't mean to yell." "It's okay," he mumbled his response. She watched the muscles in his arms flex as he raised the sandwich to his mouth with both hands. She licked her lips. "Justin? Was that Chris on the phone?" "Mmm!" Justin nodded. He swiped an arm across his jaw. "What did he want?" Justin turned, scratching over his left brow with his thumb. "He was just bored..." He closed his eyes, and shook his head. Setting down his half eaten sandwich on the plate, he said, "You know what? I'm distracting you again. Listen, I'm going to go take a shower, okay?" "That's fine," Britney smiled. Justin sauntered toward the doorway as Britney raised her pen. She twirled it in her fingers, rolling it up and down the inside of her thumb, marking up the margins of the notebook page. Her eyes wandered to the tray across from her. She pursed her lips. "Hey, Justin?" He pressed his palm into the wall, and glanced over his shoulder. She smiled at him. "Thanks, baby!" Justin furrowed his brows. "For what?" "For making me this food, of course!" Britney pointed her pen at the tray. Her toothy grin slipped into a serene, close lipped smile. "You are such a sweetie!" He floated across the room and brushed a kiss across her lips. Then whisked out of the room. A sigh slipped from Britney's smiling lips. She gazed at the doorway, at the spot where her beloved had just stood. Words fluttered through her head, whispered a sweet song to her brain. And she beamed even brighter. Flipping back her golden locks, she leaned over her notebook and penned the bridge. ---------------------- That's not all I have written right now, but really, it's all I can post at the moment. I have this abnormal psychology take-home exam that I REALLY need to be getting to. It's due Thursday, and I've been putting it off all week. AHHH! Wish me luck! Please review what you've read so far, and tell me if you likie! Danke! - dj |