A Broken Hearts Misery

No More!

Evelyn's POV:

My sanctuary is this dressing room, I won't be judged in this little room. Justin looked at me with guilty eyes, his eyes digging into my soul, revealing all my emotions and laying it all on the table. I can't hold it in longer, I rush at him digging my face with tears falling like the Niagara Falls.

"Justin, they hated me! They were laughing in my face, the whole world seen it!"

 I sobbed into his shirt, a wet puddle formed where my face laid buried. I'm never doing this again, I will not stand to be humiliated on TV. Nor-Oh my god he smells delightful! What is that?

"Eve, she's like that. Don't let her get to you. My manager told me I had to do it, it'll be the last time.  We won't ever come back here again, I promise. We don't need them, I show will them how amazing you are. This was my fault." 

  I looked up at him only for him to already be staring down at me. He had a blank stare, I looked at him longer. What was he thinking? He knew she wouldn't like me, why would he bring me here? Did he want to humiliate me? Was this a setup?

"I'm sorry, I should've known she was going to act like this. C'mon let's go, wipe those tears. I hate seeing you like this. You know what, fuck this interview." 

Justin slowly wiped the streams of my tears and begins to walk us out, hand in hand. 

Producers, directors and lord knows what began calling out to us noticing him leading us towards the front exit. Yet, he kept going. I was his priority, he liked me. I can see that now. I stared at him the entire time, taking in his features, his perfectly cut jawline along with the clenched jaw, the perfectly shaped eyebrows, the eyes of admiration looked back at me, he smiled. I melted.

"Justin, Where are we going?"

"You'll see"

-

The limo was already waiting in front of the building, I was thankful to finally be able to escape this but alas the paparazzi's were camped waiting. Surprised that we left earlier than expected, the flashing and curiousness quickly erupted. 

"Justin what happened? Why did you leave so early?"

"Justin are you running away? Did they talk about your father?" his father?

"Sources say you are spiraling out of control, what do you have to say about that?

The paparazzi's didn't understand personal space, they continuously kept pushing and nudging to get past each other. 

Justin just kept quiet and stared straight ahead, concentrated on his objective to get me into the limo. Although, I had no personal space and felt like I couldn't breathe, Justin's hand around my waist holding me close was the only security I needed. Quickly, the chauffer opened the door and in I went making sure my ass was at least covered since I so intelligently decided to wear a skirt. 

Justin came in just as quickly, and off we went. Sitting in this limo was what I needed, I plopped on the leather seats, resting my head back on the head rest whilst closing my eyes. I need my meditation.

"Are you okay?" his eyes roamed searching my body for pricks.

"Yeah, I just hope my ass wasn't out for them all to see."

"It wasn't, I made sure."

"You looked at my tooshie?"

"No, I watched over it" he replied giving a sly smile.

"Oh, you have jokes don't you?" 

"For you, I can have anything."

"Oh, is that so?"

Shit. That was good. 

Justin reached over me and pressed the intercom button.

"Adam, take us to Destination 23i"

"On our way to Destination 23i" Adam repeated back.

Looking out the window, I must have not taken it all in before. New York is beautiful. The trees, the buildings, the vast diversity of the people.  It's amazing, the skies the crowds, the events there's no better place truly, than home itself.

"I used to walk the streets a lot when I was 12. I never wanted to be home, I met a lot of people being a wanderer. I used to sing on the corners, would have crowds waiting for me to arrive, it made me happy then. It also got me in trouble. You see a little 12 year old kid singing alone and suddenly he's an easy target." 

Justin stared out the window, a thoughtful expression, a role of film playing in his head of all the memories of being ordinary, of being a person like me. Completely, unrecognizable, irrelevant even.  

I don't know his story, I don't read the tabloids, but he's opening up to me. He trusts me, he likes me.

I held his hand, we can find comfort within ourselves, or we can find it in each other. Either way, he likes me. Justin likes me.