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

Nine: There Is Something Wrong With Me

a/n; If you have a low tolerance to blood, pain, etc., please do not read this chapter. ***

Nine: There Is Something Wrong With Me
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Song of the chapter:
Breathe Me by Sia
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Later that day, we ended up at the skate park I had mentioned to him. I knew how to skateboard a little, and he said he knew a little about it too. I skated to school and back, to get coffee and back, and sometimes I just did it because I needed something to do.

Justin said he did the same.

So, we stopped home and grabbed our boards, skating down to the park together. From what I could see, he seemed to be at the same pace as I was. When I say that, I meant he knew how to coast easily along with a few minor tricks, but when it came to ramps, we knew nothing. At least that was what he claimed.

"How long have you lived here?" Justin asked, keeping his eyes focused in front of him. He seemed to be scanning all of the ramps that were placed around the small park.

"Almost two years."

He nodded, hopping off of his skateboard. I did the same. He turned to me, tucking his board under his arm and began walking. "So, you must have a lot of friends, then."

Should I tell him? Should I tell him that I have no friends at all? Should I tell him that he's the only one? No, that would weird him out. He would think there is something wrong with me.

Is there something wrong with me?

Of course there is. I'm a bitch. There's no beating around the bush or way of sugarcoating it. I am a complete, rude, inconsiderate bitch. He had a little taste of that, but he didn't know what I was capable of. That being the fact that I get into fights on a weekly basis. Maybe not as of lately, but I did a lot.

"Natalie?" He laughed and turned around, seeing that I hadn't been answering. Or walking, for that matter.

I moved my eyes up to him, seeing the sun on his face and the gentle winds brushing through his light brown hair. "Oh, yeah. Totally," I managed to choke out. He shot me a weird look, which I ignored, and I scurried up to him and continued walking. That was until I realized he wasn't walking with me anymore, so I turned around. "You coming?" I asked, finding it difficult to make eye contact with him.

It wasn't with just him, I found it hard to make eye contact with anyone. When you look people in the eye, it allows them to see you. They can look inside of you and see who you really are and what you really do. Did I want anyone doing that? No. Not anyone.

He nodded and began walking with me. "Have you tried any of these ramps yet?"

"No, not yet" I laughed, looking down at my feet. "I told you I can't do much."

I looked to my left to look up at Justin, but he wasn't there.

Where did Justin go?

I scanned the park, knowing he couldn't have gotten far in the few seconds that I spoke. I then saw him, making his way up the stairs to one of the medium-sized ramps made of a neatly glossed over wood.

I thought he said he couldn't do this? This ought to be good. Though it may not have seemed like I had much of a sense of humor, I found it oddly funny when people fell. Of course, when they started crying or something, then I knew it wasn't funny.

He stood at the top, holding his hand above his eyes to block the sun. His board was still tucked beneath his arm, his hair still being played with by the wind. He looked modelesque in a way. Almost like he could be on the home page of American Eagle's website or something.