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Date Posted: 15:11:07 05/12/03 Mon
Author: Kira
Subject: *Romance* Chapter 5~Stressed

Chapter 5~ Stress

Gavrielle sniffled miserably as she sat on the floor of her kitchen, hands clad in sloppy yellow gloves. She scrubbed out the bottom shelf of her of refrigerator, removing furry entrees and gagging as she tossed them in the well-lined trashcan. She was in the middle of gutting out her apartment, cleaning in preparation for the new semester. Scrubbing and mopping, dusting and vacuuming kept her mind busy, which she desperately needed.

The two weeks after her magical trip to California were sobering. Her life, which had been bathed in luxury and decadence, was now back to its bland lull. Except she was riddled with confusion. Justin and Gavrielle had continued to talk on the phone, emailing several times a day. They both agreed that the connection between them was more than just a simple friendship. This realization complicated everything. The distance, the sheer differences in their lives and Justin’s celebrity were seemingly insurmountable obstacles they’d face in the future. For Gavrielle, it was easy, she felt the connection, emotions stirring inside her. But for Justin, it was harder. He’d just come out of a painful relationship and she knew that he was still dealing with the aftermath, the continuous ripples of changes that occurred after a break up.

Gavrielle was shaken, knowing no matter what happened, her life was going to change.

**

Justin kicked the door shut of his hotel suite after Chris, plummeting to the bed and toeing out of his shoes. He pulled the covers over his head, which was pounding with a sharp cadence from hours of radio promotion. The Video Music Awards were just two days away and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to make his official solo debut. He tried to prepare himself for his solo career as well as he could, but he never imagined how much the promotion could be without his bandmates acting as buffers, protecting him front answering personal, probing questions. Justin was dumbfounded by the sheet audacity of the deejays and reporters. They asked him anything deemed entertaining, no matter how lewd or vulgar it was. Justin missed the safety of NSYNC. Now, he had to be sharp, on his toes with a smart-ass comment at all times, and it was utterly draining.

He pulled his phone off the holder on his belt and rolled onto his side, dialing with his thumb. “Hey, Justin,” Gavrielle answered on the first ring.

He smiled through lidded eyes. “Hey girl.”

“Oh, you sound tired,” she commented softly.

“You sound grumpy,” he countered.

“I am,” she laughed. “I’m sitting in the middle of my kitchen, cleaning out my fridge.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It’s not,” Gavrielle pouted. “What are you doing?”

Justin flipped on his back, yawning. “I’m laying down about to eat lunch and sleep before I go to rehearsal tonight…”

“That sounds fun.”

“Oh yeah, laying down is a blast,” Justin laughed.

There was an awkward silence and Gavrielle just breathed into the phone. Justin shook his head and boldly began. “I know you want to come for the VMAs and honey, I want you there, but it’s just too much for me, right now. “Look, I got the press crawlin’ up my ass. They’re hyping my performance waaaaaaaay more than they should. I got to do this by myself. I’d love to have you in New York, holding my hand and stuff, but I just can’t right now.”

Gavrielle sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to beg, but I just think it would help you a lot if you had someone there, just for you. I really want to be there, Justin. You’re performing for the first time and you…”

“I don’t need the added stress baby.” He waved off Chris’ glare.

Gavrielle scoffed angrily. “I’m stress now, Justin?”

Justin’s eyebrows lifted and he held the phone away from him. Gazing around the room with wide frustrated eyes. “This is why I’m through with women!” Justin moaned. “Okay…you know what, honey, I’mma call you back later, because I can’t do this now. I will relax and have my lunch and we’ll talk later, boo. Goodbye.”

Chris laughed lightly and patted Justin on the head. “Give me the phone, Infant.”

Justin handed it to him, scooting off the bed and stomping into the bathroom. “Gavrielle? It’s Chris.”

“Hello, Chris.”

Chris sat down at the table beside the bed and leaning backwards, staring out at New York City. “So you’re the girl that scared my boy shitless,” he mused.

“What? I don’t follow you, Chris,” Gavrielle opened the container of strawberries and leaned against her kitchen cupboards, nibbling happily.

Chris ran his fingers over his fuzzy head. “He’s scared of you, hon. He’s scared of you because you’re one of the only ones that can see through that mask he puts on. He told me how you told him point blank to stop the performance and it spooked him big time,” he explained softly. “It really did.”

Gavrielle licked the sugar off her strawberries and nodded sadly. “Oh. I didn’t know that,” she relented. “It’s that a good thing?”

“Yeah, it is. Honestly, I really think he wants you there. I mean the boy won’t shut up about you. So if it’s possible, get here. If not, it should be okay too…just think about it…”

**

Marta waltzed in Gavrielle apartment, sunglasses over her eyes and a package under her arm. Her auburn hair was whisked into a French roll and clipped in place. She flopped on the beige couch and shook her head at Gavrielle staring listlessly out the window, phone still clasped tightly in her hand. “Talking to Mr. Wonderful?”

“I was. He doesn’t want me to come to New York. He says he wants me too, but he can’t take the stress, or some shit.”

Marta readjusted her sunglasses to the top of her head and nodded. “It makes sense,” she whispered reluctantly.

Gavrielle stood up, walking into the kitchen. “I know it does, but then his friend Chris got on the phone and he said that Justin is just scared and high strung and he really wants me there. That if I can come, to come.”

Marta wrinkled her nose. “Then go. I’m sure Darren can has connections.”

“But if Justin wanted me to come, he’d say so. I don’t think he wants me there.” Gavrielle leaned her head on Marta’s shoulder and squeezed her awkwardly. “I love that you would call Darren for me, after y’all broke up, but really. He just needs to say it. I need to hear it from him.”

“It’s no problem. I don’t know, Gavrielle. But can you please try to cheer up a little bit? You’ve been like a zombie since you got back from California,” Marta asked softly. “You know I love you, but you’re killing my ever-perky mood, here.”

Gavrielle laughed listlessly. “Sure.”

Marta sighed in relief. “Bless you child. Oh, this was jammed in your mailbox.”

Gavrielle frowned at the package- a thin box labeled in black marker- before attacking the tape. Eagerly ripping into the box, she pushed aside all the tissue paper and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Lifting the frame, she studied the picture. It was Gavrielle and Justin on her last day in California. He was sitting on a stool, legs casually cocked open and Gavrielle was standing in-between them, hands on his cheeks. It was the very moment of their first kiss. It was a beautiful picture, capturing the sun setting and the ocean waves whirling to the beach. She blushed as Gavrielle took the picture from her. “Is this? Are you kissing him?”

“Yeah.”

Gavrielle retrieved the note stuck to the back of the framed photo.

Not many people have this moment captured. We are very lucky. Justin.

She stilled, holding the note in her hands, her mind reeling. She couldn’t miss his first solo performance. Gavrielle didn’t want to regret not being there, for him and for herself. Justin needed unconditional support. She abruptly clapped her hands together and turned to Marta. “Pack, we’re going to New York!”

**

It started raining a few miles outside of Harrisburg, falling out of the gray, covering the Pennsylvania highways in sheets of thick water. Rain coated the windshield of Marta’s mustang, coursing down the sides of the glass in streaked torrents, garbling brake lights and road signs. Marta was curled up in the back, long gray sweater unfurled over her lean body, seatbelt digging painfully into her neck as her head dropped forward. Gavrielle flipped the radio off and listened as the raindrops rocked the car, pounding the frame in a distracting cadence. She gripped the wheel tightly, blowing the hair out of her face.

Gavrielle wasn’t spontaneous. She always had the overwhelming compulsion to plan and anticipate. She worried about where they were going to sleep or what they were going to do. They only spent enough time to print directions off the internet and grab some cash. They didn’t even have tickets to the Video Music Awards that was the next day. She nibbled at her dry upper lip and thumped her fingers on the steering wheeling anxiously. Marta mumbled in her sleep and Gavrielle grinned thoughtfully. She couldn’t wait to see Justin.

**

The highway was a series of cursed and long stretches, coupled with lush, green trees. The white lines whizzing by bled together in a hypnotizing pattern. Garvielle was getting tired, her body stiff. She’d driven through most of Pennsylvania and was chattering giddily to Marta during her stint. It was late morning and the road was fairly empty. She leaned back in the plush seat and dropped one hand from the steering wheel, rolling her shoulders and wiping her eyes. According to their instructions, they only had about three more hours to go, barring any traffic jams. She pulled her left leg up on the seat and tired to make herself more comfortable, planning to stop at the first rest stop.

A thunderous scraping boom exploded from the right side of the car and Gavrielle’s hands flew to the wheel, gripping it forcefully as the car veered to the left. She grunted with pain as her leg was crushed, from her body jerking forward. With a piercing shriek from the backseat, Gavrielle cursed and tugged hard on the steering wheel, somehow finding the horn to signal other drivers. She swerved onto the side of the gravel road, her right foot pumping the break as her as she could. Her entire leg was rigid and the car skidded to a halt, throwing its passengers forward.

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