Don't Get Too Close (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

Twenty-Three: Hope

Twenty-Three: Hope
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Song of the chapter:
She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5
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I wanted to run. I wanted to get out and lock myself in my room and never come out. I wanted to yell and scream and cry for being stupid enough to leave my sweatshirt in his house when I was more than aware of the fact that there was blood on the sleeve that would indicate something wasn't right.

My dry mouth opened just slightly, unsure of what to say. I couldn't think straight. How was I going to be able to come up with something to get myself out of the situation?

"I— I mean, it was probably from Chelsea," was all I managed to choke out. As badly as I wanted to, I couldn't look away from him. He was there, looking so broken and hurt and confused. I had no idea what was running through his head and I knew that I didn't want to know. I didn't want to be let in on how much I hurt him.

Shaking his head slowly, he held the sweatshirt up, revealing the familiar blood stains. "You and I both know that's not true," he murmured, his voice stern but just as quiet as mine. I swallowed and looked down. "Natalie," he pressed. I didn't move. "Natalie, look at me. Please."

Still, I didn't say a word. But I did, however, pull my eyes up to his. The familiar chocolate brown was clouded with frustration and betrayal, and I knew he was on to me.

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is," he begged, his eyes scanning over mine. A hot tear escaped my eye and slid down my cheek, my teeth clenched tightly shut to avoid crying. I was frozen— paralyzed. There was nothing I could say or do, so I didn't.

His hand released the sweatshirt as he tossed it over on his bed. His eyes locked on mine, the sadness more evident than I had ever seen. I felt so bad but at the same time, I was so scared. Never had I been so caught up in my own lies. There was nothing I could do.

Stepping a little closer, he ran his tongue over his lips and let his fingers sweep against mine. He then took my hand in his gently, bringing it up slowly. And once he lifted his other hand to take the material of my sweater's sleeve, I turned my head to the side to avoid his stare. There was nothing I could do to keep him from finding out. Everything was already layed out on the table.

His fingertips hooked beneath my sweater and he carefully pulled up, making sure not to move too quickly. He didn't know what he was getting himself into exactly, but he had an idea. Once I felt cool air on my open skin, I knew he had seen what I tried so desperately to hide for years.

"Oh my god," he whispered. Another tear freed itself from my stinging eyes and I knew it wouldn't stop there. It couldn't. All that I had worked for had been destroyed by one stupid mistake. My cover was blown. It was over.

The pads of his fingers delicately traced over the side of my arm as he examined what I had done. He avoided touching them at all costs, but he kept looking, trying to process exactly why I had done what I'd done.

Not a word came from him. He was just as surprised as I was, but most likely more. Clearly he had no idea because if he did, he wouldn't have had that reaction. It translated one hundred percent shock. All I could keep thinking was how I was caught and there was nothing I could do about it at that point.

Why I'd said it, I didn't know. It came out of my mouth involuntarily, slipping from my lips without thought. "I'm sorry."

Still, I didn't look at him, but I felt him slowly bring his gaze to me. My eyes shut, allowing a tear to slip down my face again. I tried as hard as I could to hold back, but nothing worked.

Both of his hands then took hold of one of mine and he brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of my hand once. "Why did you do this?" he whispered calmly, his lips still on my skin. When I didn't answer, I felt him squeeze my hand to urge me to continue. I didn't. "Why?" he pushed his lips to my hand again. I shook my head and heavily exhaled through my mouth, a slight stagger within it.