Some Rules Are Better Off Broken

Chapter One

"Kennedy," a voice speaks softly into my ear and shakes me. I groan unattractively and turn over to the other side, groaning loudly again and stuffing my head in my pillow.

"Kennedy." The voice is louder this time and shakes me harder.

"What?" I yawn as annoyed as I can be at eight A.M. in the morning while I throw the covers off of my body. 

"Get ready for dance rehearsal. I hear that there's a special guest coming." I look over to my side and see my Mother standing there with her phone pressed against her ear.

"Ok, I'll be up." I mumble and wait until she leaves the room since I decided to only sleep in my panties and a large t-shirt last night.

I wipe my eyes and stretch, arching my back and walk to the bathroom attached to my room. I pick up my toothbrush and squirt toothpaste on the bristles, brushing my teeth quickly. After I brush my teeth I go to take a shower. I undress my self and step into the shower. 

I drop my head down as the warm water hits my body and relax under it. I reach my arm out and take a bottle of body wash and shampoo. Shampooing my hair and then scrubbing down my body, I turn off the water and pick up my robe and a towel to wrap around my hair. "Ken! Twenty minutes!" My mom shouts from downstairs. "OK!" I yell back and rush into my room. 

I pick out a pink sports bra and a pair of white sweatpants with a pair of grey Jordan SpiZikes. I go to my closet and pick up my pink tote bag. 

I run down the stairs and into the kitchen where mom was sitting down at the counter and our butler, Dimitry, was making breakfast.

"Thanks Didi." I smile at him and pick up a plate of bacon and eggs. "No problem." He winks at me and gives me a glass of orange juice. 

"Kennedy, you have exactly five minutes and twenty three seconds left before you need to go to practice." Mom peers over at me from her computer as I eat my breakfast.

That's my mom, always keeping exact time so we're never late to anything. I nod in response and gulp down the rest of the eggs, washing it down with the orange juice. "Your dad will be coming to your dance rehearsal today." Mom informs me and shuts her laptop.

 So much for keeping it a surprise.

"Awesome. I'll be going now, bye mom." I kiss her on the cheek and put my dish in the sink. 

* 

*

*

"Great! Our lead dancer is here, everyone in positions!" The dancing coach, Jim, calls out when he sees me.

"Hey everyone." I wave at everybody, dropping my bag near one of the mirrors. I stand in the front of everybody with Jim to my right and he presses play on the stereo, blasting Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo. Everybody rehearses the moves that we had all learned yesterday and Jim was impressed. "Amazing. You guys are amazing, good things happen to good dancers." He winks at everyone. "Take five." He stops the music. I turn around and walk to my bag to take out a water bottle. 

"Hey Scooter!" Jim suddenly exclaims and my head shoots up, looking over at where my Dad was standing. "Dad!" I exclaim and run over to him. "Hey honey!" He hugs me tightly and smiles down at me. "What's up? What are you doing here?" I ask nicely so he doesn't take it the wrong way. "Actually, I have great news." He smirks at me and looks at everybody who was standing just behind us. "What is it?" I look at Jim and he seemed like he already knew.

"You ar—" he gets cut off by someone walking into the dance studio. "Scooter, you gotta see this!" The boy exclaims happily and everyone's (females) jaw dropped, except mine. "That's Justin Bieber!" Taylor shouts with a hand over her mouth. He winks at her and the girls gasp loudly. I roll my eyes and shake my head. Then he looks over at me, running his eyes down my body. "Oh, hey Kennedy." He steps forward and hugs me. "Hi Justin." I mumble and push him back but he hugs me even tighter. 

He knows why I push him: I just despise him. He is an annoying and way too cocky brat that does nothing but flirt with me even when I tell him that I don't like him because of his stupid cockiness. He actually thinks he can get me to fall for his stupid tricks.

Not happening.

"Anyways," my dad sends Justin and I a glare. "Guess who's going on tour with Justin Bieber?!" He shouts enthusiastically. "Kill me now." I mumble under my breath and cross my arms with Justin's arm still around me.

"OH MY GOD!!" Sara squeals, jumping up and down. I groan and manage to peel Justin's arm off of me to return to Dad. "Why are we going on tour with him?" I mumble, glancing at Justin as an indicator. "Because, I want to spend more time with you and what better way then to bring you on tour!" 

I narrow my eyes at him. "You could just come home." He shakes his head. "You know I can't do that." 

"What about Mom? What is she going to be doing during this time?" I ask. "She'll be fine, her sisters are gonna stay with her." He answers, raising his eyebrows. "Damn it," I mutter under my breath in defeat.

"Anyways, get ready. We're gonna go home and you're gonna pack, we are leaving in three days." He pats my shoulders and goes to announce it to everyone else.

Wow. This is actually gonna happen. I'm actually gonna go on tour with that brat.

I roll my eyes again and pick up my bag, waking to the dressing rooms. I change into a white tank top with black shorts and keep my shoes on. "Kennedy." A voice speaks behind me. "What?" I already knew who it was; Justin. "Aren't you excited to come on tour with me?" He smiles at me and walks closer to me. "No." I turn around and cross my arms.

Justin smirks, not hiding the fact that he just checked me out. 

Typical. What an arrogant asshole.

 "And why is that?"

"I don't like you."

"Hm, we'll see about that." He whispers in my ear and walks away.

Oh boy, this isn't going to be good.

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End notes:

Okaay, that's my story! Hopefully you guys like it and please comment, if you can then vote too please!

Also, you can go on Quotev.com and search me on there too, I write other stories that aren't really finished on there but you can still check them out. They'll be transferred to Wattpad soon!

Thanks a lot! :)

Much love.