FAG (Justin Bieber x OC)

3

AN: The picture is of Okezie Morro, the closest I could find to what I imagine Moses to look like. I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I like the end, I think. Thanks, @jthingokay , because your comment was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

We rode a red double decker to the cinema. It was brilliantly British. I was trying to go incognito in the black SnapBack and mirrored sunglasses on loan to me from my travelling companion. The shades didn't look too douchey, thanks to the vague brightness that Brits called sunshine. This wasn't a sunny day by my standards, but there were people in huge floppy hats and shorts. I even overheard two ladies discussing sunscreen.

An Asian woman in a rose hijab sat opposite me, looking bored and breath-taking. I spent a lot of the bus journey covertly examining her, whilst working out if I wanted to be close to her or touch her. After all, according to Moses, my leading expert on being gay, that was the way to know your sexuality for sure.

The bus screeched to a halt, the brakes clawing their nails across a chalkboard just as they'd done at every stop so far. I haven't used public transport in years. "Blad, this is us," said Moses, nudging my arm and standing up. I walked to the front of the bus behind the hijab-ed Aphrodite. I watched her butt sway in those jeans and gulped for air. It was a niiice ass.

However, then my eyes travelled higher to her more traditional tunic top. I took in the way her waist nipped in so neatly. Her shoulders were so slender and arms thin . It was wrong. She was too curvy. I could imagine running my hands down her sides, only to feel dips where there should be endless, undisrupted plains of smooth torso. How did it work? What did you grip onto when her shoulders were so narrow? She was stunning, so why couldn't she please turn me on even a little?

FAG

***

"Blad, you aight? You've been bare quiet ever since we got on the bus." Moses and I had stepped off the bus and the hijab-wearer, who had unknowingly dashed my last hopes to splintered smithereens on the pockmarked concrete, was instantly swallowed by the crowds. A bustling system of pedestrians heaved and shifted like one creature, whilst each individual weaved their separate paths.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, you know?" I replied to Moses.
"Sure," Moses nodded like he did know. "So what film d'you wanna see? I actually didn't look what's on. Sorry," he frowned. "There's always shops if there's nothing decent on."
"Yeah, it's fine. What kind of genre do you like?" I asked him.

Honestly, I was just delighted to be spending the day with him. Although, obviously, I was always on edge about being hounded by fans. I hadn't been recognised yet, but you never know. The crowds provided excellent cover. I was also on high alert for paparazzi. I didn't need rumours about me being out to the movies with a gay guy. Not that Moses looked gay, but they'd find out and people wouldn't just let that go. Trust me, I know. Moses may be the expert on being gay, but I was the leading expert on being called gay. All of this took a backseat to the thing that most nagged at my mind as I watched Moses's hand swing by his side. In my mind, I could feel the soft, lighter-coloured skin of his palm on mine. In my mind the hand morphed, becoming smaller and fairer and oh so familiar, right down to the star tattoo on the knuckle of the little finger.

"Err... I like comedy and action, yeah, like..." I looked at Moses, startled out of my thoughts. Conversation had been less flowing since we'd both sobered up. Though, to be fair, it could have been due to my mini 'I don't know' meltdown in the park. "What about you," Moses asked.
"Uh, I like comedy and action as well. You know the ones people label as like 'Guy Films'? Yeah, that's my thing really. I've got simple tastes."
"Ah, right," he chuckled. "What about horror?"
"Not my favourite."
"Why? You scare easy?" he grinned teasingly.
"Pfft! Course not! I've got, like, nerves of steal."
"Yeah, I'm sure you're well 'ard." My cheeks flamed. Partly because I was embarrassingly pussy and partly because he'd said 'hard', which sent my mind diving for the gutter.
I recovered quick enough to assert, "You better believe it."