The Dilemma of Being a Weirdo

Chapter 5: Baby-Sitting the Drunk

Ariana's POV:

"Justin, for the love of god, please go to sleep!" I screech out of frustration.

"No!" He laughs while running around the kitchen.

After Justin started crying in my car because I didn't have the money for chicken nuggets, I decided that I couldn't leave him alone in this state.

So instead, I texted my dad and told him I was going to spend the night with a friend. He didn't seem to mind. Although I did leave out that not only is my 'friend' a male, but my role here tonight is to baby-sit a sixteen year old, drunk, extremely childish, Justin Bieber.

"You'll feel a lot better if you just go to sleep, okay?" I say through gritted teeth.

Justin giggles as he sits on the kitchen floor, drinking a bottle of wine, and eating cheese nips.

"Don't make too much noise, you don't want to wake up your mom."

He nods, a sudden change of mood. "Mama would kill me!" He exclaims, hiding the cheese nips in a random cabinet.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking care of a drunk teenager is a lot like taking care of a little baby. A very drunk baby.

"I wanna burrito," Justin cries. His head falls down onto the kitchen floor tiles; his cheek is pushed up against his face making it look as if he really were just an innocent little baby.

My innocent little baby.

I shake away the feeling in my chest at the sight of his preciousness. Justin brings the bottle of wine back up to his lips.

"Justin, no!" I scold.

A tortured expression replaces the cheerful one. Tears slip out of his wide hazel eyes as pained cries leave his body. If you didn't know any better, you'd think I was stabbing him to death. While he sobs, wine spills down his face, making his white shirt, purple.

"Nooo, m-my shirt!" He screams in agony.

I carefully take the bottle out of his hands, "shhhh, it'll all be okay."

Justin gives me the classic puppy dog eyes and lip pout, melting my heart in the process.

Stop it Ariana, you've only known him for a few days. He's also apparently a drunk whore, you can do far better than this.

With only good intentions, I help him slip out of the wet shirt. Droplets of wine drip down his surprisingly defined six pack, making my lady bits sing.

The urge to cling onto his stunning body as if we were out at sea and he were a life raft. But no, that would make me a terrible person for taking advantage of a drunken beauty.

He cries louder, complaining about the cold without his shirt.

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"If you focus on what you left behind, you will never see what lies ahead." The TV playing Ratatouille movie is the only sound in the room.

Justin and I lay on his bed, watching the Disney movie after his little brother yelled at us for being too loud while he was playing video games. That's when Justin started to cry again, this time he wanted to watch 'the cooking rat.' He giggled nonstop for ten minutes as I struggled to work his annoying TV's On Demand system. Finally, I got the stupid machine. That's right, Ariana Grande doesn't lose to no stupid machine, nope, not even a TV.

He snuggles closer to me, his grape wine breath pinches my nose. Although the stench makes me want to vomit, I can't help but feel warm in his secure grip. His steady breathing and uneven remarks on how comical it is that a rat is not only blue, but is tugging on the hair of a clumsy red head who has no idea how to be a chef.

Before the movie started, drunk Justin and I changed from our party outfits into some pajamas. He gave me a pair of sweatpants from when he was in middle school along with an over sized Nirvana t-shirt. All he changed into: a pair of plaid, loose pajama bottoms. He said that wearing shirts while relaxing is a crime.

So that leads us to now, Justin continuing to mumble incoherent thoughts. His lips brushing against my neck with each one of his hitched breaths.

"That rat-" he giggles, "that rat can cook-" he hiccups once, then twice, then a third time, "better than the human can!"

I reach up to fluff his hair, "that's the whole movie."

"Ariana, you're so smart, and pretty, and s-s-smart," he rests his heavy head on my shoulder, "I'm really glad you're my friend."

Friend.

My heart sinks once again into the pit of my unfilled stomach, yet I know that after tonight we'll never be able to be anything more than the cursed f word. The image of that naked whore sucking on my innocent friend as if he were a capri sun. I shudder, causing Justin to mumble a few words and tighten his grip around me.

"A-are you okay?" he yawns before the hiccups start again.

"Of course I'm okay, just a little cold," I lie.

As if it were possible, he pulls me even closer to him.

"I'm sorry you're chilly," he says, turning me around so I face him, and wrapping his arms around me. I smile in content, he's so unbelievably warm.

His hands rub my back soothingly, slowly putting me to sleep with this action along with his quiet spoken thoughts about Ratatouille. Before I know it, my eyelids feel too heavy to hold up anymore.

__________________________________

"Woah Jax, you weren't lying!" A young girl's voice exclaims.

"Huh?" I groan, attempting to sit up but hold around my body restrains me from doing so.

"It's the girl from school that one day," a familiar young boy's voice comments, Jaxon.

"Woah, Justin got lucky!" The girl squeals.

I groan once again, my eyes open to see the same chest I fell asleep against.

"Justin wake up!" The kids screech repeatedly.

Finally he does, groaning and rubbing his head, he releases his tight grip around me.

"Shut the hell up!" Justin snaps. The kids instantly fall silent with shocked expressions on their faces. "Guys, get out of my room," he grumbles.

The two kids nod before quietly leaving the cluttered room.

Justin looks at me with a crooked grin on his face, "what happened last night?"

I climb out of the bed and begin to explain everything that happened last night, leaving out the important detail that I walked in on his dick sucking appointment with the stupid cheerleader, Samantha.

"And then you just brought me back here and we watched Ratatouille?" he asks suspiciously.

"Of course, that's what friends are for," I answer through gritted teeth.

"Ariana I'm so sorry, the last thing I even remember was, uhhh, um," Justin tugs at his hair along with slamming his eyes shut. "I'm just really sorry."

The anger of what I saw last night began to resurface as I saw his now sober face. Justin said that he hated those type of people, how hypocritical of him to get his dick sucked by one of them.

"Justin, I'm gonna go home. I'll see you at school on Monday."

He makes a grunt as if in protest of either my tone or that I'm leaving him to deal with his first hangover alone.

"I'll see you Monday."