Soulless (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

XLII

XLII.
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Song of the chapter:
Homemade Dynamite by Lorde
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The endless buzzing of the tattoo needle filled my ears as Justin's hand occasionally tensed up in my own. I thought he was kidding when he reached out for me to hold his hand, but he wasn't. He said that it actually did hurt sometimes.

After our long and eventful shower, Justin drove me home so that I could quickly change into something new. Thankfully, neither of my parents were home to see that I was ditching class to hang out with a boy that I spent the night with.

"How long does this kind of stuff usually take?" I asked Justin, watching intensely as the young woman tattooed Justin's arm. She was a light skin girl who had tattoos up to her neck.

His arm that was being tattooed was above his head, considering he wanted it almost on the back of his upper arm. It was a clock that the tattoo artist had drawn out for him. There was no specific meaning; he simply went with what the artist thought would look good. I guess that was something that people did.

Shrugging, he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "Not too long. Why, do you have somewhere else to be?"

"Maybe I do," I grinned not only from his words, but from the fact that he was completely shirtless directly in front of me. It was enough to make anyone feel giddy.

"That's not nice," he raised an eyebrow.

Rather than responding, I tipped my head and smiled at him sweetly. When I looked away, I could feel him continue to watch me. It was as if he was completely disregarding the pain from the needle just to look at me.

"Thanks for coming with me," he started, squeezing my hand. "Connor never wants to come with. He came once, but never came back again. I think it's because I tried to hold his hand. He wasn't into it, to my dismay."

I giggled, feeling a blush rise into my cheeks. "I'll try not to be like Connor."

"You'll try?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean."

The demeanor between Justin and I had been quite the rollercoaster. We started off with ridiculous, sarcastic and snarky banter when we barely knew each other, then immediately moved on to this fiery, passionate "I hate you, but I need to have you" phase. And after the previous night, it was sweet, flirty, "I can't keep my hands off of you." It was mind boggling how quickly it was all moving. It really had only been about two weeks.

Two weeks was all it took for him to wrap me around his finger. If it was just a game, he was pretty damn good at it.

Every time the idea of him just messing with me or using me for sex popped into my head, I pushed it as far back as I possibly could. Although it may have been rational, it was depressing to think about. Acting as if I didn't have a clue made things easier. It made things feel normal.

Maybe they were.

Although things seemed amazing with Justin, I planned to continue to write about him. After all, he was an interesting subject to observe. (I mean to say that in the least creepy way possible.) I had never met someone with such intellect and passion and experience and mystery before. It was incredible just how fascinating he was.