Chapter Six

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"There still continues to be no update on Justin Bieber and his whereabouts. If you do know information regarding the hunt of him, please call the police immediately and do not approach him. He is seen as dangerous," the news reporter updates. Looking away from the TV screen in the same diner I was in yesterday morning, Justin's mugshot still remains in my mind after they move onto another subject.

"Hey," Nick greets me as he sits across me from the table. I notice he's recently had a haircut, which draws more attention on his sharp jaw and his growing beard.

"Hi," I reply. He smiles in response, it meeting his brown eyes.

"How are you?" he asks to make conversation.

"Good," I answer. I'm more than just good, but I can't tell him about my growing happiness. I can't tell him the real reason as to why I want to break off our romantic relationship, because I can't tell him about Justin.

Since leaving Justin this morning at Erick's, my mind continues to dance around him — careless and free. My smile continues to grow for him, my heart continues to flutter for him.

Everything now seems to revolve around Justin again and internally I'm panicking, but for now, I accept the butterflies in my stomach just by thinking of him. I know of the painful consequences that could come, but I'm welcoming it with a smile.

"What did you do yesterday?" He grabs the menu that the waitress rested on the table, and places it in front of him.

"Not much," I lie while he reads the menu. But it is everything. Yesterday doesn't even seem real, that a small part of me wishes Justin is still at Erick's when I get back, just so I can remind my body of him again.

"What did you do?" I question. Even as this small talk continues longer than necessary, I can't bring myself to speak about the real thing on my mind. It's as if my past self knew when planning to meet Nick yesterday for today that I would also conclude our relationship.

"I went out," he says. Looking up from his menu, his dark brown eyes absorb me. He's analysing me, wanting to rummage through my brain and know my thoughts. But I don't let him; instead, I look down at my hands. "What's going on?" he asks finally.

Sighing, I meet his waiting eyes. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes so desperately wanting to know me. "When you first spoke about our relationship, you said you would be willing to wait as long as possible for me to be ready. Do you mean that now?" He nods slowly as an response. "I don't think I ever was ready to go into a new relationship, when I wasn't over my previous one," I reveal.

"But you said you could," he whispers.

"I don't think I knew myself well enough," I admit. "Justin and I had something more than special, something that sparks within me. A connection like that doesn't disappear because I want it to."

"You said you could," he croaks.

"But I can't," I tell him. "Him being out of prison reminds me of everything we had, and I'm not ready to let that go."

"Don't speak about him!" he shouts suddenly, making me sink into my seat. His eyes are searching for me, for me to admit this is a joke, that I do want to pursue our relationship further, but he doesn't find his answers. Instead, they're screaming — vividly and emotionally.

"Nick," I soothe. The cafe momentarily hushes before resuming to their own conversations.

"Him being out of prison didn't remind you of anything. You had a year to remind yourself, to check if you was ready. But no, you ran. You always run — from your problems, from me." He clenches his jaw, as if fighting the words he's holding back.

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