Geometry

by >>Jae

Britney was a surprise from the start.

They were halfway through their first dinner alone when he realized no one had told her about Chris. She knew it was fake, of course, this dinner, this date, but she didn't know the real reason. Business, record sales, gossip columns, she'd been told by Johnny or her mother or someone. It made him mad for her. He started to tell her, then paused a minute. Maybe there was a reason they were keeping it from her. But he shrugged and told her. It wasn't fair to her.

She was quiet when he told her, looking up at him with wide pretty eyes. Then she smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. "Oh Justin," she breathed, "that's so romantic." He couldn't help smiling back. When he saw the look in her eyes, admiring and maybe just a little envious, he knew the real reason he'd told her.

Justin was surprised at how easy it was to be with her. He'd thought it would be kind of awkward, pretending to be together for the cameras, but her hand fit easily in his, her head rested lightly on his shoulder. Britney was so much smaller than he was, but she seemed exactly the right size to curl into him. It felt a little strange at first to be so affectionate in public. He was used to being careful with Chris. He felt exposed at first, almost naked. But Brit smiled up at him and linked her arm through his, and it was so easy. He kissed her hair, and her cheek, the cameras flashing around them like shooting stars.

And if his mouth slipped sometimes, moving down her soft skin to her lips, well, it was just because it was so easy. Britney always pulled away first, turning to the side, whispering, "Justin, no." But when he cupped her face in his hand and tilted her head back up to his, she didn't pull away again.

Britney was surprisingly easy to talk to. Justin didn't really remember girls from before he was famous. And he wasn't so egotistical that he didn't realize that the girls after were starstruck by him. But Britney lived the same kind of life he did. She understood. She lay next to him on her bed, propping her chin up on her hands, and listened intently as he told her about being on the road with the guys. Brit knew about the road, but she did it alone. She giggled and sighed at his stories, begging him for more when he finished. Sometimes, toward the end of the night, they lay with their heads close together on her pillow and he told her about Chris. Not always, and not much, but it was so nice to talk to someone about him. Words spilled out of him, words he hadn't realized he was anxious to say until he finally had someone he could say them to. He couldn't with the guys -- they were the guys, and they knew Chris, and it would be too weird. He couldn't tell his mom -- talk about too weird. Management was management. And no one else was supposed to know.

But Britney liked to listen to him. Late, late, when the room was dark except for the dim lights of whatever city supplied Britney with a spectacular view that night, Justin would throw his jacket over a chair and strip off his shirt. Britney would take off the most uncomfortable parts of her outfit, which was usually most of it. In the beginning she'd throw on sweatpants and a T-shirt, but it seemed silly. They were performers; they were used to changing in front of people all the time, used to walking around half-dressed at photo shoots. And they'd known each other forever. And hell, they laughed at each other, daring each other, they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

They lay next to each other, heads close together on the pillow. Britney listened solemnly, lips parted a little, cheeks flushed. She studied his face as he spoke, like a little girl hearing her favorite fairy tale, wondering if this time the ending would be different.

And if Justin's lips, half-open like hers, pressed against her throat, if his hand caressed the sharp curve of her waist, it was only because it was so easy.

They didn't always talk. Sometimes they would simply undress, watching each other shyly, and lie next to each other. Justin would slide his hands down over Britney's shoulders, her stomach, her calves, feeling the hard muscles tighten and then relax under his fingers. He rubbed her skin gently, as if she had just come inside on a cold day. She had whispered to him once that no one ever touched her, no one real, that she was afraid she'd turn to stone from loneliness and lack. "You know?" she said, and he answered, "I understand." He understood, but he didn't know. He had always had Chris.

She never asked for anything. She let him take the lead, always. He thought maybe she didn't really like sex, but soon he realized that she was afraid to ask for it, afraid he didn't want to, afraid he'd say no or afraid he'd say yes and not mean it. "Do you want to?" he breathed into her hair, and she froze.

He learned to read her signs, when she stretched and smiled at him, when she threw back her head to expose the pearly curve of her neck, when she trailed a delicate finger over his bicep. It didn't take him long.

He was surprised at how easy it was.

He watched her lips quiver, saw the pulse humming at the base of her throat, and he leaned in close and said, "It's okay. You can talk if you want." She did more than talk, she sang, and moaned, gasped, said his name, said please, said yes, said oh oh oh. He lay on his back and closed his eyes as she lowered herself onto him. He didn't open his eyes until he felt her fingers on his cheek. She smiled down at him.

She rode him and he pulled her close, slid a hand around her slender waist. When he rolled them over, he ran his hands under her thighs into the hollows of her knees, lifted her legs up high without thinking. She grinned and said, "You don't have to. I mean it's okay if you want. But you don't. My legs." He looked at her dully. "Justin, I'm a girl," and she pulled her legs down and giggled at the look on his face. He laughed, still inside her, making her gasp and clutch his arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, both of them laughing, his mouth against her sweet soft skin. He thought he loved her. "Me too," she whispered in his ear, "me too."

Her body was flushed, and as warm as his, her skin rosier than his but just as smooth. When he closed his eyes he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

Afterward he lay next to her, both of them still smiling. She idly traced a fading violet bruise on his hip. She pressed down on it, and he twitched. "Sorry," she said, and took her hand away.

"It's okay," he said. "It hardly even hurts anymore." But she didn't touch it again.

When he woke up the next morning, he was smiling. Then he thought, Chris, and he wasn't smiling any more.

He was dressed, sitting on the floor to tie his shoes, when he looked up to see Britney watching him warily.

"I forgot," he said. "I have to --"

"I know," she said.

"It's not --"

"It's okay." He bent down over her and she smiled up at him. "I love you," she said, and he kissed her gently.

Chris was eating in Joey's room when Justin got back. Justin went into their room and sat on the bed and traced the pattern on the bedspread with his finger. When Chris came back, he stopped in the doorway. "What's up, J?" he said.

"I. Um. I have to tell you something," Justin said. He saw Chris' face grow pinched and tight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," Justin said. Chris snorted, and Justin flushed. But he knew Chris was right. He had no excuse. "I slept with Britney," he said, and waited. He didn't let himself look down.

Chris watched him, arms folded across his chest. Justin met his eyes. "Justin," Chris said. His voice was soft, but there was a sharp edge to it that made Justin flinch. "Justin. You didn't think we were exclusive, did you?"

Justin looked down and bit his lip. Stop being stupid, he told himself, this is good. You're off the hook. But he couldn't keep himself from blinking, and blinking again. He watched his hand pick at the bedspread. Finally he said, without looking up, "Um. I guess. I guess I kind of did."

Chris didn't say anything for a while. Justin looked up through his lashes. Chris was leaning against the door, his hand over his face. Justin made a small noise before he knew it, and Chris stood up straight and dropped his hand. Justin looked down again.

Chris sat down next to him. "Oh, J," he said, and the sharp edge in his voice was almost gone. He put his arm around Justin and Justin turned toward Chris, buried his face in Chris' shoulder. "J, J," he said again, "come on. It can't have been that bad." Justin laughed, a shaky little laugh, and Chris put a hand under his chin and tilted his head up. "Come on," he said again, softly, and there was no edge to his voice at all. "It's all right. I knew it was bound to happen."

"I didn't mean it to," Justin said. "I didn't think it would."

"I know," Chris said.

"I wouldn't. I thought."

"I know," Chris said.

Justin leaned into him, and Chris' arm tightened around his shoulders. "I love you," Justin said.

Chris kissed him.