Dark Blue (Justin Bieber Fan Fiction)

Ch. 32 -Unplugged

Here you guys go!! I almost forgot to update!!! 

Ch. 32

Unplugged

I sighed, falling backwards onto the couch. For a moment, I just sat there, closing my eyes tightly and trying not to groan as I thought back to the events of the previous week.

It was Sunday - a full six days since Justin had come over to my house to try and talk about what happened and I’d kicked him out into the blizzard.

Miraculously, I’d managed to avoid him at school over the consequent few days. Whenever I had seen him in the hallways, I’d ignore him, or quickly duck down another corridor to take a different route to wherever I was going.

I didn’t want to give him another chance to try and corner me.

He’d definitely tried it - on Tuesday and Wednesday, there had been several occasions where he’d noticed me in the halls and an alert expression had come over his face. He’d then proceeded to quicken his pace and head towards me, but I’d managed to disappear before he could get very close to me. By the end of the week, he’d finally gotten the hint that I really didn’t want to talk to him, and he’d given up.

Thank God.

I was not about to give him a chance after everything he did and all the shit he put me through.

People still stared, whispered, pointed, and laughing, and there was a constant ringing reminder in my head of the fact that I now had one friend and practically no one liked me.

Meanwhile, Justin - though definitely acting a bit distant and...different to everyone - went around with the same old swagger that he normally did. Everyone still absolutely adored him - girls fawned over him, Aubrey was as smug as ever, and fellow guys treated him like their king, as if the ground he walked on was sacred. 

Because, after all...

Justin Bieber can do no wrong, right?

I could beg to differ, but my opinion would be shot down in a heartbeat by practically 95% of our generation.

And it’s not like anyone would listen, anyway.

I finally opened my eyes, blinking and allowing the inky blackness which had enveloped them - induced, no doubt, by the way I’d been jamming my palms into them miserably - to fade away, slowly fizzling into view the vivid colors and asymmetrical shapes of my TV room furniture.

I glanced to my left, only to feel a slight mixture of exasperation and amusement pass over me.

Ryan was perched on one of the armchairs, digging a large sterling silver serving spoon into a one-gallon tub of chocolate chip ice cream that he’d brought over. He had an enormous styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate perched on the coffee table next to him, and a bag of giant, fluffy white marshmallows lying next to it. The bag had been ripped open and a few marshmallows were spilling haphazardly out of the jagged plastic edges, one of them dangerously close to tumbling off of the table and onto the ground.