Clair's POV
I sat on my bed, still feeling deflated at the discouraging fact staring me in the face: seeing Justin Beiber in concert tonight. It wasn't like I hated the guy, and no offence to his fans, but I'm just not much of a fan. Though, to be fair, I have never actually heard his music before. I jst trusted the things people have said about him-things like his voice sounding like a crack chipmunk and that the music itself is terrible. Whatever, I'll just listen to my own music during it. Then again, if say, Sean Kingston were to go on stage, I wouldn't mind listening to him for a while. Because he's definitely a music artist.
A ringing came from my pocket. I quickly pulled it out and flipped it open to answer, bring it to my ear.
"Hello?" I asked, lying back lazily on my soft comforter.
"Clair! Why aren't you getting ready for the concert?" my best friend Zendaya shrieked through the receiver. "You better get a better attitude, missy! And quick!" she added.
"Fine," I muttered.
"Gosh, whatever, do as you like. The concert's at seven and I'll be picking you up thirty minutes before, m'kay?"
"Sure."
"Cheer up! I don't want to be hanging out with a sourpuss tonight."
"That's a hard request seeing as I'm going to see the Beaver soon. It's not like I actually wanted to ever do this in my lifetime."
"It's Beiber, not beaver! You better not say that in front of him. You know how rude that looks on my part?" Zendaya sneered.
"Ugh," I groaned desperately, "Why don't we see Selena Gomez or something?"
"They're not coming to Alabama, obviously," she said, referring to where we lived in our small town.
"I'll see you soon," I said with an edge of finality so that this conversation would just be over already.
"M'kay! Bye for now!" she chirped squeakily.
With that, I hung up my cell and couldn't help but ask myself, Why am I even friends with her?
Justin's POV
"I'm can't out there!" I wailed out nervously, "I'm going to forget the lyrics or trip over my own two feet!
"Sweetie, calm down," my mom soothed, pulling me into a motherly side-embrace and said into my hair, "You've already done so many shows before. It'll be fine." She paused a moment and pulled away to look at my face. "Justin... is this about Alissa?" she asked tentatively. She was uncomfortable talking to b=me about my ex-girlfriend. She thought it brought me pain to think of her.
"I don't think so."
"If that's not it, what's the problem?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it, mom," I assured her, rising from the leather couch in my dressing room.
"If you're sure..." she trailed off. "If you want to talk to me, you know I'm always here. I love you, honey."
I smiled and gave her a quick hug. "I love you, too, mom," I told her and pulled away to walk over to the door. Quickly, I added, "And really, don't worry about it. It's probably just a random bout of nerves. I'm going to get something to drink to calm myself a bit."
"All right. I'll try to find you before the show starts. If I don't good luck."
"Thanks!" I shouted over my shoulder, already walking out the door. As I went in the direction of the food lined tables, thoughts rapidly went through my mind.
Why am I so nervous? Get a hold of yourself, Justin! I keep thinking something is going to happen when probably I'm wrong.
After I found a snack and a bottle of Gatorade, I paced the backstage over and over again, going over dance moves here and there. We did sound rehearsals and in an hour it would be Concert time. Suddenly, the feeling from earlier about swept me off my feet.
Why am I so nervous?
