Him.

Chapter 7.

I wake up in his arms.
Would you believe me if I said he turned me down last night?
He had the nerve to say I'm not ready.
He got me all worked up to turn me down.
Damn.
I was angry too but then he kissed and touched me in all the right places. I wasn't angry anymore after that.
I look down at his abs and feel his morning--- I hop up so fast I bust my butt on the ground.
What in the world is that a third leg?
"Are you okay," Justin asks jumping up in the bed and looking down at me a smile plays on his lips. "What happened?"
What happened?!
"Umm you've..." What's the word? Grown? Hmm... Developed. Yeah that's the word. "You've definitely developed."
"I'm not a little boy anymore. Just wait until the day that I make love to you," he states.
Mmm okay.
I'll wait.
Not patiently though.
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"So I never got to ask because we were so occupied last night.." He raises a questionable brow.
Yes I said it. Occupied.
"What are you even doing here? I'm mean I'm happy you're here I was just wondering what made you come three days early?"
"Carmen, I saw that look of regret in your eyes and I knew I had to get here and show you there's nothing to be afraid of," he states.
"How many girls did you sleep with your freshman year?" He raises a questionable brow again.
"Why do you want to know that," he asks.
I hate when people ask a question with a question.
"Just answer the question," I say getting frustrated. Our breakfast and conversation is interrupted by screaming girls running over to Justin. Which causes others to come over for a picture, autograph or hug.
"You're even better looking in person," one of the girls state causing him to smile his signature smile. He's eating this attention up.
I roll my eyes.
Why am I jealous?
Just the fact that I can't just sit down and have a regular conversation with him in public is a huge eye opener for me.
I don't know if I can do this. I grab the keys and his phone before heading out to the car.
I sit in the car looking through his pictures. Our pictures. Us making goofy faces, mean mugging or smiling all hard at each other. I'm interrupted by a Twitter notification.
Twitter...
Should I look?
Yes or no?
Hmm.
A peek wouldn't hurt would it?
I decide to go for it I open the app and take a look going down his TL.
Nothing was there. Just people he followed celebrities and ball players. I check his profile next.
#WCW it's a picture of me.
That's so sweet. I smile looking at the picture and decide to scroll and keep reading.
"Damn she ugly lol 😂" @MagicallyDelicous she tagged a lot of other people.
Ugly.
"Justin you could do so much better DM me💦" @CallmeJae
"Tf are y'all blind she's beautiful"@KissmeKate
"Jealous b!tche$" @HonestHour
"He could do better but that's my opinion" @YoursTruly
My smile disappears as tears run down my cheeks one after the other. 
He can do better.
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The ride back to the apartment was a silent one.
Hurt.
Anger.
Everything I'm feeling right now.
"Freshman year I didn't sleep with anyone first because I was too busy playing ball and trying to keep up my grades and secondly because I couldn't get over you," he states after pulling up to my apartment. "Sophomore year I decided to continue just being friends with you and I slept with a few girls."
"What's a few," I ask looking in his eyes to make sure he doesn't lie.
"No more then three or four," he states, "And when you got up here I pretty much stopped all my sleeping around because if I wasn't on the basketball court I was with you," he states and he's right.
"Okay."
"Okay...? Why did you want to know this anyway," he asks I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. "I gave you your straight up answer now it's your turn."
"I never slept with anyone else after you," I start. "Our week at the beach was so perfect I didn't think I could feel that with anyone else... I didn't want to." He sighs deeply before leaning over and pecking me on the lips.
"I love you," he whispers and kisses my lips again.
Tears start dropping again and I shake my head.
"Justin this-- we could never work," I cry hopping out the car and running into my apartment.