Gotta Be You (Justin Bieber Love Story)

Chapter 19

i know you've been waiting for this for a while so here it goes!!! sorry for the long break between the last upload, but you know how life is....

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Thankfully, the gun clicked empty.

The vagrant figured he might get into trouble or something, because he hurled the gun out into the water, and then dashed away quickly.

I had never been so relieved in my life.

“Well that was strange,” Justin commented. I nodded. He came back to me and wrapped a hand around my waist, but the moment was gone.

“We should go,” I said. The sun was done setting, and the last rays of light were streaking the air. It was getting cold, and I regretted not putting on the satellite dish- um, I mean, hat. He sighed.

“Yeah.” Silently, we walked back to the car, after depositing our borrowed water clothes back at the front desk. I didn’t see the point of wearing it, for our clothes were soaked underneath them. Although . . . . .  Justin was wearing a white shirt, and I just barely managed to keep my mouth closed. I could see what was so appealing when someone was wearing wet white clothes. They stuck to his body, not just revealing, but also complimenting everything that was underneath . . . .

“Keep staring at me and I’ll think you want something,” Justin warned, looking away. I was brought back to reality with a loud snap that seemed to reverberate around the vehicle . . .wait, when did we get back in the car? I shook myself, mentally saying I had to pay more attention to what was going on around me, and, more importantly, where I was going.

“Will you now?” I asked, smiling suggestively. He took a moment to look at my expression, then chuckled. But I detected a hint of strain in the laugh.

“Seriously Nie.” He wasn’t looking at me now. I smiled wider, knowing I was making him uncomfortable. I pictured what might be going on in his mind, and a shiver ran up my spine. He didn’t see that either, and I was glad for that. But I wasn’t going down without a fight. We had a long drive back to the airport, and we were separated from the driver by a thick piece of glass.

“Okay,” I said, leaning on the door, bringing both my legs up on the seat and crossing them. “Whatever you say.” He glanced at me, to see why I was going along so easily. I saw his gaze run appreciatively over my shorts covered (and therefore barely covered) legs before he saw me watching, and looked away.

I smiled, leaned my head against the window, and started singing.

In German.

German is a rather rough language. I prefer French much, much more. But German had this rather appealing quality, especially when singing. The song was rather slow, and required a lot of feeling. I closed my eyes and let myself get into it. I knew he was watching me, but I didn’t even open my eyes. Since he had no clue what I was singing about, my movements would make him think it was something completely different to what it truly was, which was a love story between two deer in the forest.

If you’re wondering how I knew it, it was one of mom’s favorite lullabies. And no, she didn’t sing it in German for us. She sang it in Italian.

From that I changed to a short, lively French folk tune. I put my legs back on the ground, and swayed slightly to the music. I knew what I was doing to him, not knowing what I was saying.

And then I shifted to Spanish, Mexican dialect. Now this was a love song. I was dancing (as much as possible on a car seat) as what Mer would call ‘Shakira style’. I don’t think I have to explain that.