---Part Eight---

The sound of a fist pounding on her door awoke Abbey from half-remembered, disturbing dreams the next morning. Blearily, she pried her eyes open, glaring at the clock. It wasn't time to get up yet, not for another half hour or so. She could already feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. Sighing, she put her head back down on the pillow and decided that whoever was knocking on her door could just go away, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, the person appeared to be showing no concern for her delicate state; the pounding started again, louder. Growling, Abbey pushed up into a sitting position and swung her legs out from under the blankets. The headache slammed into her with full force; for a moment, she swam, dizzy, in a swamping tide of pain. Then it receded a little, and she managed to get up, using various pieces of furniture to prop her on her journey to the door.

"Who'zzit?" she mumbled, her eyes half-closed; she tried to look through the peephole, but her vision was cloudy, unfocused.

"Let me in, I lost my key." The voice was recognizably Michaela's warm alto; with a sigh, Abbey undid the chain-lock and opened the door to admit her roommate. Michaela slid into the room, giggling; Abbey closed the door behind her and then leaned on it heavily. Not only was her head pounding harder than before, but now she was feeling queasy as well. I hate throwing up, please don't make me throw up, she thought to whatever deity might be listening in.

Michaela dropped her purse on the table by the door, turning to look at Abbey. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks. You look like someone who got lucky last night," Abbey replied, eyeing the distance between herself and the bathroom. If she remembered rightly, she'd left her Tylenol on the counter. Now, all she needed to do was to walk over there; right now, it seemed a million miles away.

"Are you okay?" Michaela asked, concern edging into her voice.

Abbey shook her head -- slowly, so as not to slosh anything. "My tongue feels like a really old piece of carpet, and my head is killing me."

One of Michaela's eyebrows quirked -- at least, Abbey hoped that was her eyebrow and not something else on her head, but her own vision was still too blurry to differentiate fine details, and if it was something else, she didn't want to know. "You got drunk last night, you remember that?" Michaela asked, her voice was full of amusement.

Abbey closed her eyes, slumping against the door. "I remember jello shots. And dancing. And, um, some more jello shots."

She heard Michaela come over, and one of her cool hands pressed against Abbey's forehead. "You've got a hangover, but it's not the end of the world. Geez, you act like you've never been drunk before."

Abbey winced. "I haven't." Some of last night's memories were clearer than others -- she remembered dancing with Lance, then Chris, and then some other guys; she remembered, with a growing sense of dread, slow-dancing with someone, his hands on her back, flashes of a kiss...

"Oh, geez." Michaela's voice was contrite now, her hand dropping to Abbey's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed--"

"It's all right. Just, please, lower your voice?"

Michaela winced. "Sorry," she murmured. "Here, I'll get you some aspirin. You need to puke?"

Abbey's lips tightened, going white around the edges. "I hope not," she said feelingly.

She managed to make it into the shower and from there to clothes without having to vomit, for which she was grateful. Michaela apologetically helped her pack; then, feeling a bit more human with a pair of sunglasses to keep the worst of the light out of her eyes, Abbey headed down to the lobby and the waiting buses.

Wincing at the sound of the brakes as the last bus pulled up, Abbey set her bags down with the other suitcases already piled together. She was praying that the rolling motion of the bus wouldn't set off her nausea again, now that it had been firmly dosed with Pepto-Bismol and was slowly dissipating from her stomach.

"Hey, Abbey." She froze at the sound of Lance's voice. Slowly, nervous, she turned to face him.

"Hey," she replied softly, nodding. Oh please let him be tired or something, don't make me have to carry on a conversation--

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

Abbey looked warily up at him, his eyes made a little more remote with a pair of glasses. He seemed to be genuinely concerned, nothing more. "Uhm, getting there," she said. "Though my head's still killing me. I think there's a steel drum band in there now, but it's better than the symphony orchestra that was playing 'The War of 1812' before."

Lance chuckled. "Well, you might want to avoid Justin this morning."

"Why?" She was genuinely puzzled at that. Lance gave her an odd look when he saw that her confusion was sincere.

"Uh, just take my word for it," he said.

"For what?" asked a different voice.

Lance looked over Abbey's shoulder, winced, and shook his head. "Nothing. I gotta get on the bus, hope you feel better." He took off at that, leaving Abbey no choice but to turn around and face the person who had spoken behind her.

It was, of course, Justin. "Hey," she said, feeling her voice catch in her throat. "Um, morning."

His eyes were narrow and dark. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like hell," she said, biting her lip at the sharp tone of his voice. "Head's killing me, the usual hangover stuff, I guess. Never had one before, so it's a brand new experience for me."

Justin nodded, sucking on his lower lip for a moment; he looked thoughtful, but determined, and Abbey had a moment to think that she really didn't like the angry look in his eyes. "So how much do you remember about last night?"

"Not a lot." Honesty, go with honesty, it's not just a Billy Joel song. "I remember dancing with Lance and Chris, having the jello shots, and more dancing. I don't even remember coming back to the hotel."

"You kissed me."

Abbey gasped, completely taken aback by Justin's statement. "I did what?"

"You kissed me," he repeated, stepping closer to her. "All your talking about how you don't want a relationship, you don't want to get involved, and it goes right out the window when you have a few drinks? What the hell was that about, Abbey? Are you just trying to play with me, see how much of a fool you can take me for? Because it doesn't work that way, a'ight?"

Abbey winced, Justin's rising tone and cutting words intensifying her headache with every statement he made. "Justin, I didn't -- I don't--"

"Don't what? Don't want to go out with me? Don't want to dance with me? Because you sure didn't act like that last night. You nearly slapped this one girl when she tried to cut in."

"H-how -- oh, God, I swear, Justin--" She pressed her hands to her temples, fighting back the throbbing pain that threatened to swamp her brain. "I was drunk, Justin, it's never happened before and if I'd known what would happen, I never would have--"

"Never would have gotten drunk?" he finished, his face flushed in anger. "It's too late to take it back now. But I swear to God, Abbey, you had better never do that again, because you'll regret it, I promise."

"Oh, trust me, I already do," she spat at him. "Don't think for an instant that I would have done anything like that sober."

"So you just grope guys when you're drunk, that's it? Is that what a guy has to do to get near you, get you wasted?"

"Is that all you want from me?!" Abbey yanked off her sunglasses, her bloodshot eyes burning as fierce as his now. "You just want to get in my pants, huh?"

"You could probably use it, you need relaxing!"

Her face went scarlet, then white. "I got relaxed plenty enough last night," she snarled. "Don't you worry, your body's safe from my advances. It won't be happening again, I can assure you."

Swinging around, she stomped up to her bus and climbed on, leaving Justin -- and several other onlookers -- staring after her. Justin punched a fist into the air after her, as if attempting to disperse his own swirling emotions, before storming off to his own bus. Chris and Joey, who had just emerged from the hotel, trotted after him, asking what had happened.

Disturbed now, both physically and mentally, Abbey settled into her seat and fumbled out her CD player from her shoulder bag. She had to calm down, she knew; but she'd get motion sickness if she tried to read, and she was too agitated right now to sleep. She was hoping that music would calm her down. After some debate, she settled on an early Metallica CD; she liked to think of it as white noise for her brain.

Her thoughts continued to roil as the buses started out, security having checked to make sure everyone was present and in their assigned vehicles. Got to think about something else or I'll explode. Where are we going now? Oh yeah. Recalling the reason they were headed to Indianapolis, Abbey sighed. The look on J.C.'s face last night, when he'd mentioned his girlfriend (Karyn? Abbey couldn't remember if that was her name), had been full of excited anticipation; she felt oddly envious of the girl. He was so obviously happy about the prospect of seeing her again, and Lance and Joey were just as bad. Idly, Abbey wondered how they'd ended up with girlfriends in Indiana anyway. Must be a long story behind that one. I wonder if they're the same girls as I saw in the studio, that first day?

Abbey sighed, resting her head on the window. The thumping of her forehead on the cool glass was oddly soothing, as her headache was finally easing up. Well, more power to them. If they can make it work, with the long distance and these guys' crazy schedules, it'll be a miracle.

"Hey." Michaela sat down in the empty seat next to Abbey, looking at her curiously. "You all right?"

"Better than before," Abbey temporized. "Or I would be if someone hadn't decided to get in my face first thing this morning." Interposing a hand between her head and the window, she closed her eyes.

"He was pretty pissed," Michaela commented.

"He had a right to be," Abbey replied, her voice soft. Her gaze slid over to meet the stylist's. "Did I really kiss him?" she asked. She'd been half-hoping it was all just a nightmare, or that Justin was torturing her for some strange personal satisfaction. But Michaela nodded, confirming Abbey's fears. Groaning softly, Abbey let her head fall back against the seat cushion.

"It looked really, um, passionate," Michaela said. "You started dancing with him, and I thought you knew what you were doing..."

"Oh, I'm sure I thought I did." Abbey knew there was a reason she had always avoided getting drunk in the past. Now she had a reason for the future, too, and it even had a name: Justin Timberlake. "Just tell me I didn't do anything incriminating."

"Not that I saw," Michaela replied. "After everyone started -- um--" She hastily revised her statement when she saw the frightened look forming on Abbey's face. "Someone pointed out to me that you and Justin were kissing, and this was after you'd been dancing together for a while. I saw that you were pretty toasted, so I got you out of there and back to the hotel."

So that was how she'd gotten back. Feeling a sudden surge of affection, Abbey squeezed Michaela's arm. "Thanks, I really appreciate that."

"Well, considering it was my fault and all -- it was the least I could do." Michaela gave a self-effacing smile.

"Nah, it wasn't all your fault. I didn't have to have those shots, but I did."

Michaela nodded, and after a moment, excused herself and went back to her seat. Abbey put her own seat back, grateful that exhaustion was beginning to take hold of her at last.

---

The rest of the drive passed uneventfully. Abbey was feeling almost human by the time they arrived at the hotel in Indianapolis; she had relaxed, too, enough to chuckle at Lance, Joey, and J.C. The trio tore off of their bus as soon as it stopped, pelting into the hotel like madmen. She hopped off her own bus, grabbed her bags from the crewman unloading them, and followed the others inside.

As they stood in the lobby, getting rooming arrangements settled, Abbey felt her cellphone vibrate in her jacket's inner pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the caller's number on the display for a split-second -- long enough to identify it as Kelly's work number -- and then answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Abbey. It's Kelly."

Abbey gritted her teeth. Kelly's conversational tone of voice masked an undertone of annoyance, which was how many of her recent chidings had begun. Just what I need now, to get yelled at by yet another person today. "What's up?" she forced herself to ask in as pleasant a voice as she could manage.

"Well, I've got this problem." Kelly made a sound as if she were sucking air through her teeth. "See, I heard that you folks went out last night."

Something cold slithered in the pit of Abbey's stomach. "Yeah," she agreed, guarded. "A bunch of us did."

"Mm." Silence for a moment, as if that wasn't the reaction Kelly had expected. "Okay. So, I'm surfing the Internet today, and what do you think I found?"

"Don't know, Kelly." Abbey fought down her burgeoning fear with sarcasm (she wouldn't surf the 'net if her life depended on it, someone must have told her about it), then glanced up to see Toby, the road manager, approaching. "Hang on a second." She took a moment to accept her room key and the number, then picked up her bags and went over to one of the couches grouped by the lobby's small fountain. If this was going to be a confrontation, she wanted to be sitting down, not yelling in the middle of a crowd. "Okay," she said to Kelly. "Sorry, we're in the middle of checking in here. What did you find?"

Kelly's voice crackled with suppressed emotion; she spoke slowly, as if drawing out her anger with each word. "I found pictures. Pictures, Abbey, taken by some Minneapolis girl at the club 'N Sync and friends went to last night."

"Pictures?" Abbey sat down heavily on the couch, sudden dread bursting inside her.

"Pictures," Kelly went on, "of you and Justin Timberlake."

There was more -- much more, spoken louder and faster, but Abbey heard little of the tirade over the roaring in her ears. Explain your way out of this one, Eldridge. "Oh, I was drunk off my ass and did something I'd never do sober. So sorry, won't happen again." Sure, she'll be sympathetic to that. Oh, dear God! There are pictures of me kissing Justin on the Internet.

"Abbey -- damn it, Abbey, are you listening to me?" Kelly's words began to register again. "Abbey, this kind of behavior is totally unacceptable. I'm telling you right now, if the media gets a whiff of this we are going to have a lot of trouble. I expected better of you. If you don't start acting in a more professional manner, you will be removed from this assignment. Do you understand me?"

Numb, Abbey mumbled a confirmation. Kelly sounded smug and satisfied as she ended the call. Jabbing at the off button, Abbey dropped the phone in her lap, then leaned back to let her head fall on the back of the couch. This had to be a worst-case scenario. But how could she have known that someone would have a camera, or that pictures would get splashed online so soon? Obviously, she'd have to start being more careful. Not that anything like this will ever, EVER happen again.

Sighing, she grabbed her things and stood up. All she wnated to do now was to get to her room, take a hot shower, and avoid Justin for the rest of the day. The less she saw of him, the better, as far as she was concerned.

---

Naturally, she'd barely situated herself in the hotel room when Chris came knocking on her door. They were going out to dinner, and he wanted her to join them. Abbey begged off, but he was persistent.

"Come on, Chris, do you really think I want to spend time with Justin after what happened last night and this morning?"

"You have to face him sometime, Abbey," he counseled her. "Might as well be now, since you'll be taking pictures of him tomorrow night."

With bad grace, Abbey gave in. She did her best to be polite when introduced to the girls -- who were, indeed, the ones she'd seen in the studio in Orlando on her first day of the assignment -- but she didn't feel up for much conversation, and Justin's sullen attitude didn't improve her mood any. At least he wasn't bugging her about last night, a small favor for which she was grateful.

After the meal, which took place at a nice Italian restaurant that really wasn't prepared for the lively group of pop stars and their entourage, there was talk of hitting a park they'd passed on the way, to play basketball or something athletic like that. Abbey declined, this time refusing to give into Chris's variety of persuasive arguments. She went back to the hotel in the van, thanked Jimmy for the ride, and collapsed on her bed.

Chris had told her about tonight's plans: they were having a party in the banquet hall of the hotel, in honor of the girls as well as to belatedly celebrate Joey's girlfriend Lindsey's birthday, which had taken place two weeks earlier. Abbey had no intention of going, but she took a shower anyway (after a nap that left her feeling very refreshed); and after changing, she gave the television a sour glance. Spending the night laying in bed watching television seemed horribly boring.

Maybe I should go down there. Apologize to Justin or something. Try to bury the hatchet. He's had time to cool down, and I feel bad about the whole situation. Maybe if he sees that, then we can reach a truce. For some reason, settling things with Justin was more important, to her mind, than worrying about what Kelly had told her. And she did feel bad about it; it was her lack of control that had caused the whole debacle.

Decided, she pulled together a slightly dressy outfit of black slacks and a cream-colored tank top that went well with her everyday sandals. After some debate, she left her hair down to fall loose and straight around her face. That in itself was unusual, but she just didn't feel like fussing with it tonight. Finally, she dabbed on a little bit of makeup; then, pleased with the result, she grabbed her wallet and the keycard and headed to the elevators -- all the while firmly reassuring herself that she was not dressing up for Justin.

The party was already in progress when she arrived in the banquet hall. Music spinning from a DJ's turntable had a decent-sized crowd up on the floor; Abbey scanned the dancers, seeing mostly crew, band members, and of course the group and girlfriends. She didn't see Justin anywhere, though, which seemed odd. Seeing Michaela by the bar, Abbey headed over to join her.

"Well, you're the last person I expected to see out here tonight," the stylist commented, chuckling. "Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole thing."

"I'm just looking for Justin," Abbey explained, and smiled at Michaela's astonished look. "No, really. I wanted to apologize to him. For last night."

Michaela rolled her eyes. "It wasn't your fault. Anyway, he's out on the balcony." She pointed out at an open set of double doors; beyond them, Abbey could see a wide concrete patio, tables and chairs for open-air dining set out. At the railing, a shadowed figure leaned out to look over the artificial lake behind the building.

"Thanks, Mickey." Abbey smiled again and headed outside, her nerves jangling all over again.

---

"Nice night."

Justin glanced over to see who had joined him on the balcony, where he had retreated a little while earlier in the quest for solitude. When he saw Abbey standing there, he gave a shrug and nodded in agreement, but left his Discman's earphones on over the bandanna covering his hair.

"Still not talking to me, huh?" She rested her arms on the railing and looked over at Justin, who gave no evidence of having heard her; his head was moving a little to the music in his ears. Sucking in a breath of air, she let it out slowly.

"Fine. I'm going to apologize anyway, whether or not you can hear me." Since it probably wouldn't make a difference even if you *were* listening... "I'm sorry about what happened last night, and I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean what I said. I'm upset and frustrated with some personal things, and I took them out on you because you were there. I'm honestly, sincerely sorry, and I promise you that it won't happen again."

Abbey looked at Justin again, seeing now that his eyes were closed. She sighed, turning to lean her back on the railing briefly. "Okay. Well, I'll see you later, I guess." With that, she started to head inside.

She had only made a few steps towards the building when she found herself stopped short by Justin's hand, closing taut about her wrist. Brought about by her momentum, Abbey blinked up at him, narrowing her eyes in confusion. He'd removed the earphones, and his eyes were dark and intense in the light that shone from the building behind her.

It took Abbey a few moments to find her voice; after what seemed like an eternity, she attempted a bored tone. "What?" To her annoyance, her voice cracked on the word as if she were, God forbid, nervous.

Justin seemed to hesitate; then his eyes softened. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have exploded at you. You, uh, you weren't exactly in control of yourself last night, and I should have recognized that."

Abbey gulped, forcing down the butterflies in her stomach. Why was it she could face all kinds of adverse situations related to her job, but Justin managed to consistently run her through an emotional wringer? "Okay," she sighed. "So we both lost our tempers. It won't happen again?"

"Agreed." He seemed as relieved as she felt.

"Great." She assembled a tentative smile. "Uh, could you let go of my arm now?"

His fingers gentled on her wrist, sliding down to her hand, but he didn't let go; she felt the tender pressure of his thumb against her palm, moving in a slow circle. Something about the caress -- intimate, familiar -- both stirred and scared her.

"Justin. My hand? I need it to take pictures."

But he wasn't letting go, and she couldn't read his eyes at all now; even the light from inside seemed insufficient illumination. Biting her lip, Abbey fought to contain the queasiness she felt, the way his touch unnerved her.

She was completely unprepared for it, then, when he bent his head and kissed her. Too startled to close her eyes, Abbey stood rooted to the spot, her hand tightening in Justin's. One half of her was yelling to go ahead, enjoy it, the heat of his mouth on hers and the nearness of his body. The other half argued that she should break it off, because she didn't want this, right? Why is he doing this? Does he really want me or is it just a diversionary tactic?

A sudden wave of panic flared, and she pulled away from him. His hand still held hers, and somewhere in the kiss he'd taken her other hand with his free one as well; she felt trapped by him, even though he only held her hands loosely in his own.

"This isn't a good idea," she managed to say over the flush of heat that had risen in her.

"There's something here, Abbey," he said; his voice was husky, throaty, so different from his usual speaking voice that it sent shivers down her spine. "You can't tell me there isn't something, between you and me. Don't run away from it."

"No, Justin." Her eyes met his, hers pleading with a raw urgency he'd never seen in them before. "It's not that simple."

"It is." He searched her face, seeing behind her mask for what seemed to be the first time. Justin was sure she had to be feeling it, too: that desire he'd felt from the first moment he'd seen her. "Please, Abbey. I think I'm falling in love with you."

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew as soon as it was out of his mouth. Her eyes grew wide, fearful, and in the next moment she jerked her hands out of his.

"Damn it, Justin. Why did you have to go and say that?"

He could only be honest with her, no matter how it might hurt. "Because it's true," he said, and saw her flinch.

She bit her lip, shaking her head; he thought he could just barely see a sheen of tears in her eyes. That astonished him enough that he didn't stop her when she turned and fled.

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