© Sweet Kisses™
~*~
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Nick asked
with a concerned expression as he held the door open for Britney to walk
through, slipping into her jacket. He watched her walk through the doorway and
caught another breeze of her scent. He closed his eyes momentarily, and became
intoxicated by her. By every last part of her, like she had wrapped herself all
around him, not just his heart.
Britney turned around and shook her head. "No, it's okay. I can handle Justin." I hope...
Nick raised his eyebrows. "You sure? Because, you know, I'll come
with you. I don't mind facing Justin and telling him that -”
"No, no, it's all right," Britney cut in with a smile and
stepped closer to him. "I know how he is, I can manage," she added,
though in a softer voice and pressed herself against him and looked up into his
crystal-blue eyes that were so much like the man's whose heart she was about to
break. "I love you."
Nick grinned. "See? Wasn't so tough, was it?" he teased gently
and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tighter against his chest.
He leaned down and touched her lips with his for a brief moment, and he found
that his body was just screaming for more. But he wouldn't give in, not until
their 'love triangle' was cleared up and sorted out. His eyes, as he
stared down at her, were gleaming with happiness by this point and his heart
was overflowing with love. "You'll come straight here when it's
over?"
Britney nodded. "Yes," she said, secretly glad she had made
herself sound more convinced of that than she really was. She wasn't entirely
sure what she was doing or if what she was doing was right, but she knew that
she loved Nick. She knew that much. "I'll come straight back."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"You absolutely, positively, certainly sure that you don't
want me to come with you?"
Britney gave him a playful shove. "Nick, I'm perfectly capable of
looking after myself. Just relax, okay?"
This made Nick grin and he pulled her into his arms again. "You
always relax me, babe," he whispered, rather seductively, into her ear.
Britney giggled nervously like a little schoolgirl. The sound of Nick's
voice so close and it being so very unlike his usual tone, now with a deepness
and huskiness to it, made her heart race. She was still that little bit nervous
around him. And it was weird, because he knew pretty much everything about her,
too, and although his voice made her heart race, so did everything about him.
His eyes. His smile. His scent. His body. Everything made her love him.
Britney peered over her shoulder to see her limousine approaching up the
hill, the yellow of the lights shining up into their faces. She turned back to
Nick. "Okay, I'll be back. Promise."
Nick nodded and kissed her quickly. "Love you."
Britney smiled as her driver was stepping out of the driver's seat,
complete with a suave gold-buttoned Armani suit and hat, and opening the
passenger door for her. "Love you more."
Britney shifted around in her seat once in the limousine and stared at
Nick's house that was quickly disappearing. Justin's house was not at all like
Nick's. Justin's was definitely a "star" house, ultimately designed
as though it was meant to intimidate people and let them know that he was the
big-shot, with all its massive rooms and huge guesthouses. And that's why she
liked Nick's because, even though his was definitely a 'superstar's"
house, he still managed to make it comfortable and cosy. Justin was arrogant.
Justin was conceited. Nick was warm. Nick was loving. The two couldn't be more
different.
Her stomach churned as she saw Justin’s house quickly approaching. Once
the car stopped, she took a deep breath and stepped out. She smiled at the man
who opened the door for her. She then watched the limousine drive off, watching
until it became nothing more than a black dot on the horizon. She turned around
and began the trudge up Justin's steep drive, nodding to the guards on the way,
who nodded in return, and wrapped her jacket tightly around her to keep the
cold breeze out, which was now on its full night stand, greeting the night with
a cool manner. Her feet took every step toughly, her eyes fixated on the
sprawling and majestic mansion standing before her, her heart on one thing
only.
It's over.
Britney arrived at the door, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.
She waited impatiently for several moments for someone to greet her, but no-one
did. She found the door unlocked and walked through. She called out for Justin,
but there was no answer. Britney flew into action, quickly making her way up
the grand staircase in the house, taking the steps slowly, to the hallway and
down to Justin's room. The hallway was long, white and spacious. The coolness
of the house and the air-conditioning vents made a low rhythmic sound and she
peered over her shoulder periodically to see if Justin might spring out of
nowhere, just to scare her. She came to his door, swung it open and walked in
purposefully. She had a mission. To pack up quickly and
leave. Short and sweet.
She walked over to the closet, threw it open and grabbed her black Gucci
bag that had once stored everything in it. She tossed it onto the large,
four-poster bed that was in the centre of the room and then proceeded with
pulling shirt after shirt off the hangers and into the bag. Shoe after shoe was
then thrown into the bag with a mad haste to get out quickly. Finally all the
clothes were packed. She then grabbed her make-up off the vanity, her teddy
bear "Buddy" that her father had given to her when she was just two,
her hairdryer from the en suite and a few bits and pieces that were hanging
about. They were all packed up quickly. She zipped up the bag and looked around
herself.
Britney then walked over to the desk that looked out to the massive pool
and jaccuzi down below. She sighed. It wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t here
when she decided to tell him that everything changed. That wasn’t her fault.
She picked up a pen and began to write. But no words would form, she couldn’t
think of how to say it was ‘over’ in a letter. That was a coward’s way out, and
she wasn’t a coward. She would confront Justin, eventually.
She placed the pen back down on the desk and looked around herself. She
couldn’t move. Go, a little voice told her. He’s waiting for you.
You’ve been waiting for him forever. This held so many memories of her and
him together, like they were keeping her from leaving. But she knew that she
had to leave, and the saying, "when a door closes, somewhere a window
opens," made her smile, an adage from her mother.
Britney picked up her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder, and suddenly,
the door burst open and in came Justin, staggering and leering at her.
"Babe!" he slurred, taking a few small steps, but tripping clumsily
on his feet and falling flat on his face. He laughed hysterically.
Britney placed the bag down next to the bed and helped Justin up off the
floor and over to the bed. He fell down onto the mattress with a thump. She
glared down at him. This hadn’t been the first time he’d done this. The last
time he, well, it was her fault anyway for interfering. So she got a few
punches because she yelled, nothing a little make-up couldn’t fix and he’d
promised it’d never happen again.
"You’ve got to stop this, hear me?" she demanded.
Justin didn’t, but clearly he saw her bag next the bed. His eyes turned
into blue flames, his face turning into a mask of anger and fury. "What
the fuck is this?" he yelled. "You leavin’
me girl?"
Britney swallowed nervously. "See, the thing is, Justin, it’s over.
It’s - "
Justin grabbed her by the shirt, threw her down onto the bed, and placed
himself on top of her, his legs and arms holding her legs and arms down. "Who
is it?" he screamed, his palm raised in mid-air and connecting with
Britney’s left cheek with a hard slap. He leaned down and snarled, "This
ain’t goin’ down. No way, no
how."
Unshed tears were in Britney’s eyes. But she didn’t want to cry, that
only made him angrier. She did the next best thing, hoping someone would
miraculously hear her. She screamed. “Get off me! Get off me, you drunk!”
This made him slap her other cheek, but harder this time. They battled
for supremacy. Though they were both dancers and their legs were strong,
Justin’s legs were just too strong for Britney. She couldn’t fight him, though
she tried. She managed to get a hand free, clenched it into a fist and punched
him squarely in the jaw. He cried a drunken, "BITCH!" and
punched her directly in the abdomen and a low, dull moan escaped from her lips.
Her limbs, her whole body was shaking underneath him and her eyes had now
unleashed the tears that were pooling in her eyes. "Please, Justin, please…"
she begged softly.
Justin saw her silk scarf tied around the bedpost,
obviously she’d forgotten to pack it, pulled her arms up to the bedposts and
tied them securely in place before ripping her shirt open and running his hands
over the soft contours of her body in a drunken admiration.
"Now, we’re gonna play a game. Ain’t it gonna be fun?"
~**~
Nick checked his watch for the millionth time. "Where is she? Surely
she'd be done by now. How long does it take to break up with someone?" he
asked himself.
The music had been stopped. The candles had been blown out. And she had
still not arrived. He walked around the place, aimlessly pacing a small spot on
the living room floor, pondering calling her. Maybe he should, just in case.
Maybe he should've gone with her. Maybe she needed help. Things could've got
violent between the two of them, and he knew that if Britney, who was one
pretty girl, ever tried to break up with him, he'd want to kill something too.
Well, figuratively speaking, anyhow.
The doorbell rang. "It's her," he said softly and hurried to
the door. He opened it with a smile, expecting an excited Britney to rush into
his arms. But no. Britney was standing before him, but not the Britney
that he knew. This Britney was battered. This Britney was bruised. This Britney
had her mascara smudged. This Britney had her clothes ripped. And this Britney,
in the arms of an unknown man, was unconscious.
Nick gasped, cursing himself for not acting upon his instincts.
"What happened to her?"
The man’s lips pursed together in anger. "Call an ambulance.
Justin's beaten her. Again."
~***~