AN: Big thankies to everyone who left feedback for chapter one. Meant the world to me. Here's chapter two, angst galore and a lot of paint. LOL Standard disclaimers apply. PS: Does ANYONE know an address for either the Backstreet Boys or *NSYNC fan mail? Just plain normal snail mail? You think it would be all over the place but I can't freaking find one. I mean I can find out what underwear the guys wear but I can't find an address to write them. Go figure. *********************** The Sometimes Girl: Chapter Two ********************** I was painting so I didn't hear my doorbell ring. Or the near frantic pounding of an irate pop star. Or him finding my spare key under the lawn gnome I keep outside my apartment door and him letting himself in. Cause well, when I paint I'm off in my own little world. And not in the artistic sense either. I paint big. BIG. I paint life sized sculptures and canvases that cover an entire wall. I mean, I have a ladder I use to reach some of the corners of my stuff. And, like my life, I paint messy. I'm big on movement, on vibrancy and broad sweeping strokes that translates into a hell of a lot of paint being flung around. I also work best with music. Loud music. VERY loud music. So that totally explains the scene Kevin walks in on. Cause there I am in all my frizzy headed glory. I didn't really bother getting dressed because I knew, when I woke up, that today was going to be a painting day. So there I am in boxers and one of Nick's old buttoned down shirts that was caked with liberal splashes of paint. I have a streak of red on my forehead and yellow across one cheek. My hair is held up in a messy bun with one paintbrush and I'm wielding another one while a third smaller detail brush is tucked behind an ear. A fourth one is between my teeth and I'm cheerfully humming along to the horror that is Vanilla Ice. I'm in knee high soccer socks with no shoes and have the bass turned up so high my windows are rattling. I'm in a mood and I paint best in moods. I'm also fairly oblivious so imagine my surprise when someone taps me on the shoulder. I scream and whirl, paint brush brandished like a weapon, and stare in shock as I leave a vibrant smear of blue across what looks like a very expensive silk shirt. I swallow and look up, and up, and up into wide green eyes and a face framed by dark, dark hair. "Whoops." Kevin glowers darkly at me and I'm reminded once again just how intimidating he can be. "I... I didn't hear you come in," I shout over the music. He sighs and stomps over to my stereo, turning it off abruptly and plunging my apartment into silence. "What the hell are you doing?" he demands. Scary Kevin bad... I shrug and scowl as yesterday's events come back to me. Nick's in love. With Tiffany. Oh yeah. I could have done without that little reminder. I dip my brush in the red and leave an angry streak across my latest project, my back studiously turned to Kevin. "I'm painting," I reply shortly, tone cold. "You're avoiding. You can't just ignore him Corrie. You've dated for five years." Three more swipes of red are fiercely applied. "Piss off Kevin," I snap. "I don't have to deal with this right now." I tense as I feel him move closer to me, almost looming behind me. I jump and swallow when a comforting hand touches my slim shoulder before trying to block my tears. Dammit, I don't cry. Can't. Won't. "He sent me over to find you. He's worried Corrie." I shrug the hand off my shoulder, angry once again as I throw the brush in my hand to the tarp on the floor. Paint splatters and frankly, I don't give a damn. "If he was so bloody worried why didn't he come himself then Kevin?!" "He knows you're angry with him." "And he's a coward that doesn't want to tell me its over to my face!" We breathe heavily together, both angry, at each other, at the situation. "Are you so very certain that he's going to say goodbye to you forever?" he asked softly. I hate when I feel my lower lip trembling and with a tired sigh I go and fetch the latest issue of People from my kitchen counter top. I shove it at a surprised Kevin and smile grimly as he stares in shock at the cover. "That came out yesterday," I say, my own voice soft and almost weak. "Tell me who belongs with him most Kevin, Tiffany or me..." "Oh Corrie, this doesn't mean anything..." "He loves her Kevin, and its only a matter of time until he tells me goodbye. Just leave me alone, please. Please!" He looks at me with sad eyes and I despise the pity in them. To be pitied at all is bad enough but to be pitied by Kevin Richardson... I swallow thickly and kneel to pick up my paintbrush before returning to my canvas. I hear his gentle footfalls on the carpet and his pause as he places the magazine on my coffee table on his way out. The door latches quietly behind him. And no matter how much paint I splash on the canvas I can't ride myself of the picture seared in my heart from the pages of People... A picture of Tiffany and Nick shopping together while they were still on tour, hand in hand, free hands slipped into the other's pockets, blonde heads spent conspiratorially together as they whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears. It was all too evident to anyone who looked that they were very much in love. That Corrie and Nick's last break up had been so very more real than I had ever dreamed and, while he had been moving on, poor little Corinne Mattley had been left behind. I haven't really cried over a man since my daddy walked out on me and my mother when I was eleven but I couldn't help it. I succumbed to tears when the last drop of angry, angry red paint was flushed onto the soaking canvas and curled into a ball on the tarp, paintbrush clutched tightly to my breast as I wept. Definitely not my finest hour.