No pressure: A Rihanna/ Justin Bieber fanfic

Chapter 9: Breakfast at the Carlyle

Sorry it took me so long to, but here's the next update. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to comment!

The Carlyle Restaurant, New York, 2014

"So, how you learn to dance like a black man?" Rihanna asked.

Justin looked down at the table cloth and let out a laugh "I didn't know you were serious about that."

She chuckled. "I am very serious about that! It's like a magic trick."

His eyes twinkled. "Well, You Tube is pretty helpful."

Amused by his response she raised her eyebrows "YouTube?"

He smirked "It also didn't hurt having Usher for a mentor."

"I bet!" She said. They both laughed.

The Carlyle restaurant was a strangely decadent place to eat breakfast. The venue lacked windows of any sort, so no sunlight could pierce the chamber, potentially filling the room with bright clear light. Instead, the restaurant was diffused by shaded lamps ensconced on the wall in gold. Chandeliers and mirrors caught the faint amber glow of the lamps. Dark painted walls gave the room a further weight and richness uncommon to so lightweight of a meal such as breakfast. The whole place gave one the impression they were eating in the middle of the night. Though she had been staying there, Rihanna had never eaten in the restaurant herself, usually opting for room service instead. So when Justin brought her to the darkly lit, crystal studded restaurant, to eat breakfast, there was something dangerously, irreverent about it. Like eating breakfast for dinner, and that was really sexy.

He leaned back in his chair.

"Can I ask you something."

She took a a sip of her Grape fruit juice.
"I don't know,can you?"

Justin scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned forward. He set both of his hands in hers, and looked deep into her eyes.
Rihanna looked at him warily, her lips breaking into a nervous smile.
He took a deep a breath  and looked down.
"Ok, here goes."

His eyes looked back into hers, hands still gently grasping her own.  Rihanna's mind began to spin.
"Lord, what is this emotionally volatile white boy about to say? " she thought to herself.
"This date was going so fucking well and now  he's about to say some crazy bull."
Nevertheless, something about the unpredictability of his actions was exhilarating. He could say anything, do anything, and she was obliged to receive it.
Her chest began to fizz, like a bath bomb dropped into water.

Justin parted his lips to speak. "Why do you smell like Marshmallows?"

His question caught her off guard. She shot him puzzled look, her voice colored by another confused chuckle "What?"

He continued.

"When I hugged you before we came to the restaurant, you smelled like a bag of marshmallows. So um, what's going on there?"

He looked deeply into her eyes, and rolled his lips together desperately trying to keep a straight face. He was messing with her. She threw her head back and instantly broke into laughter.

He continued. "Like do you have a medical condition? Should , should I, should I be concerned."
Rihanna's eyes began to tear up.