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

Twenty-One: Breathe

"Natalie, I'm sorry!" the familiar voice called in the distance. At first, I thought I was hearing things, but then I stopped at the very end of my own driveway. I was sure it was real and when I turned on my heels, I saw him standing directly across from me by the side of his car.

Natalie, go, a voice said within my head. Get inside now before he finds out. Hiding this is way more important than any friendship, you know that. It always will be.

I didn't say a word or move even the slightest. My words were caught in my throat because as much as I wanted to hate him and yell at him, I couldn't do it. Something was holding me back, but for the first time ever, it was a good thing. It was the right thing.

He slowly proceeded across the street, watching me intently. My feet felt like they were glued to the ground because as much as my mind was telling me to go, I couldn't.

"I'm so, so sorry," his voice grew softer as he grew closer to me. He was eventually just inches away, watching my face with any and all attention he had. "I should have listened to you. I don't know what I was thinking. I screwed up. I screwed up bad. I'm—"

"It's okay," I whispered, causing him to stop. I felt horrible for making him feel so badly because it wasn't as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. Sure it sucked, but it wasn't the absolute end of the world. I could fix it. It would take time, but I could. After all, I had done it hundreds of times before.

Moving a bit closer, he lifted his hand tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Are you sure?" I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded in response, feeling almost weak from his strong stare. "Don't lie to me. I know you're pissed, but I really am sorry," he looked down, shaking his head. His hand was on the side of my face, gently stroking my skin. It was evident that he was beating himself up over it, and he shouldn't have. I had made worse mistakes than what he had done.

"Look at me," I demanded gently. He followed and brought his gaze back up to mine. I kept my arm flat against my side to prevent him from seeing exactly what I didn't want him to see. "You didn't know that was going to happen. It's not your fault."

He didn't say a word, but I knew he understood completely. He obviously still felt bad and he was going to feel bad, but maybe it wasn't as bad now. I didn't want him to feel that way. Not ever. He was the last person in the world who deserved to be upset.

The hand that was on my face trailed down to my hand, carefully taking hold of it. Once again, I felt those crazy butterflies in the pit of my stomach that wouldn't seem to go away no matter what I did. He made me feel a type of security that I never had in my life and it was one that was nearly impossible to forget.

"Come on," he murmured, a half smile playing upon his lips. "Let's go fix you up," he turned and began leading me back to his house, but I stopped and made him face me again. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head and broke my gaze from him by looking up at the sky, only for the purpose of not looking at him. "You know, I should really get home. It's late and—"

"When does that ever bother you?" he giggled. I looked back at him, his smile making me give in.

Don't do it, the same voice from before said. Go home. He doesn't have to know about this. You can get out of this.

Again, I shook my head and watched his soft smile fade to a straight line. The smart thing to do was to go home and do everything myself and just forget about everything, so why was I being so stupid? Why was I even thinking about doing something else?

Oh that's right, I thought. Because I am stupid.

"Come on, let's go," he pulled me towards his house again and although my knees felt weak— almost like Jell-O, I still continued. My feet were taking me with him and my mind was trying so hard to resist it but they wouldn't work together and I knew I had to give up.