All My Heart [Justin Bieber]

Chapter 9: As She's Walking Away

Melody

"Okay," Justin puts the book down, and removes those geeky glasses. "Something's wrong, I can tell." He scoots closer, and my cheeks heat.

Gee, you must be a mindreader. My subconcious snaps, and I shake my head. "I think I'm catching a cold." I sniff purposely.

He doesn't look convinced, so I fake a cough.

"You should talk to Farah today."

Mel, uno, Justin zero. 

Justin shrugs. "If I could actually speak around her I would. She just gets me all nervous." He sighs, and looks at me. 

"Justin, I know it's hard, telling the one you like that you have feelings for them, but. . .  It's gotta come out sometime, right?" I say, taking his hand in mine. He nods.

Take your own advice, how 'bout you?

"You seem so at ease with Sam, so unaffected... If I had your courage to actually stand in the same room with Farah, as you did Sam . . I don't know."

Newsflash. I'm not affected by Sam.

"Yeah . . Well how about at the dance. I mean, it's the last one." I grin. He brings my hands up to his mouth, and pecks them, sending an earthquake throughout my body. 

"Yep. That's what I'll do. One more week." He releases my burning hands, and hugs me. "I gotta get home. I'll see you tomorrow morning. The boys still wanna volunteer." He winks playfully.

I laugh, "I have a feeling it's not because they want this years dance to be epic." I add, and he shoots me a smile with a nod, collecting his things.

"Bye, Mel." He opens te door to walk out.

I wave, and just before he walks out, I call his name.

"And, Justin?" I say, he turns, and looks at me, intently. "You'll get her . . Don't worry." I give him a thumbs up, and a boyish grin appears on his face.

"I hope so." He closes the door, and I sigh loudly, falling back on the couch

"He deserves her. She deserves him." I repeat to myself, and shove my face in the pillow.

***

Justin

I walk out of Melody's house.

She looked really pretty today.

I shake my thoughts, and focus on the road ahead. 

Are Melody's assumptions correct? Will I get Farah? I have so much doubt when it comes to her, and I wish I could be more outgoing.

Does everyone get like this? Everytime I'm around Farah, I feel like having a panic attack, now imagine if I told her I like like her. See? Even my words in my head are messed up. 

I like herromantically. And if I keep this up, it will not be good for my health.

Suck it up, buttercup.

My mind floats to previous days, Melody in the shop, Melody at school, Melody looking so cute when she was concentrating in her homework — Whoa, where the hell am I going with this?

Let's get this straight, I do not like Melody. Not romantically. Just a friend. I smile to myself when I arrive at home. Peace.

Something is seriously wrong with me if I can't even be in the same room with a girl I like without feeling like I'm going to pee my pants.

In freshman year, I helped a new girl get to class, Melody. She was searching up and down the rows, asking where rooms were, and I ended up being partners in health class with her, one of those; Here's a sack of flour, it's your kid type projects.

I enjoyed it, and I admit, I had an itsy bitsy, teenie, weenie, crush on Mel back then. Then Farah came back into the picture, and I was - still am - utterly smitten. 

"Hon, can you help me?" Mom's voice relaxes my nerves as I shut the door. "Yeah." I set my books down, and go into the kitchen, where her voice was located. 

She was on the tip of her toes, attempting to reach up and get something from the cabinet.

I laughed, and picked my Mom up by her hips, and hoisted her up. She grabbed whatever she needed, and I put her down with ease. 

She was petite, very light, so I did that often. "Thanks." She kissed my cheek, and patted my arm. "I don't know what I'm gonna do when you're moved out." She gives me a bittersweet smile, and I return it. 

"Mom . . I'll be a call away." I state the obvious.

"Maybe you should just stay her until you're fourty." She jokes, and I chuckle, as she mixes what's in the pot.

"Ya—No." I say causing her to grin. "A call, not a room, Ma. I'm gonna take a shower. I'm not hungry." I say, and kiss her cheek. 

"Okay, Baby." She shooes me off, and I head up.

Stripping down, I get into the hot water, letting the stress be washed down the drain as well. Washing my body, and hair, I do a little embarassing 'stress relief' and get out. No, I don't imagine anybody. Farah's too sweet, and Melody — why would I even — oh god.

***

Farah

The Last Dance. That's when I'll tell them . . That's when I'll tell Melody, when it will all unfold.