Simple Deal

Three

Beth:

"Wait a fucking second, so you're going to stop going to public college and you're going to become Justin Bieber's personal assistant? Wow, when the hell did these things actually turn so insane?"

And while Lana was over there looking amused, impressed and curious, I was over here thanking God that our booth wasn't the open kind that held no air-conditioner—in fact, it was a small room in the middle of nowhere with rather cooling air-conditioner, and the door was locked so it's only just us.

"You know, Lana, it's not a very big deal," I shrugged my shoulders, "I've seen these kind of stuff happen in quite a lot of books—"

"Yeah, that usually end up with the male and female protagonists being together and having sex and all; and you know what's worse? I'm sure you already know."

"What's worse?" I dumbly questioned, slanting my head to the side.

"This situation's going to be just like those opposite attractions kind of thing."

"It's so not!" I retorted immediately, flashing her a glare. "I have never once liked him, and I probably never will—"

"Now that's something hard to say—"

"—and I don't believe in that bullshit because this opposite attraction shit is nothing but teen fiction and I'm sure he wouldn't like me either, because fat," I smiled triumphantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Just so you know, you're not fat, you just have way too much curves that go beyond sexy," Lana disagreed, leaning over. "I'd go lesbian for you, Beth Livey!"

There people go again, saying polite things to cover the negative ones. Oh, I've gotten so used it these days I'm not going to even bother protesting anymore.

Laughing, I scrunched my nose up at her before her lips broke out into a grin.

As I leaned back against the chair, I thought about how Ashleigh would take the news. I'd probably have her learnt about this by the time I'm in Justin Bieber's dressing room because her duty was to guard and assist in the backstage.

"Hey, I see this man coming over to our booth from the front. . ." Lana began slowly as she pushed herself up from the chair to straighten her slouched back. "Holy shit, isn't that Justin Bieber's manager?"

My eyes traveled out the window from that flabbergasted chick and stopped at the nearing figure, as she had said, Scooter. 

"Shit!" I hissed, drawing a deep breath as I began darting my eyes around the top of the room, trying to find the wall clock, desperately. "Lana, what time is it?" I asked in a rush, pulling my bag up from the chair behind me; the plastic bag that held my casual clothes in my hand.

I watched as Lana carried on straining her eyes on Scooter before reluctantly dragging her gaze down to her wrist watch, "Uh, it's five minutes after ten, and I think you need to get going."