TV in Black and White (A Justin Timberlake Fanfiction)

Chapter Four

"What did he smell like?"

"Did you ask if he had a girlfriend?"

"Is he completely over Brittany?"

Those were the questions I was bombared with today. It was almost like I myself was the six time grammy winner. Everyone was going completely insane over my meeting a big time celebrity, especially since I lived in potentially the smallest town in the world.

And with any small town comes a small school. And like any small town, gossip spreads like wildfire, always catching sparks before the whole city is ablaze with curiosity. 

"Like really, why would he even be here? I just think she wants attention because she obviously won't get it any other way."

That's what I heard Sarah Moore say before quietly sushing her friends upon seeing me. Honestly, I would have no reason to personally hate Sarah; she has never really done anything to me. But everyone says she is a total witch and a word that rhymes with her last name.

"F her," Brooke told me, as she rolled her eyes. 

"She's just jealous because she didn't get to meet him," Lea explained.

"I don't even know why guys like her," Morgan would say.

Now, I am checking out more customers, none as gorgeous as my last, at my place of business. I sort of wish I had just kept it to myself, making it my own little secret, but it had to tell someone. It's not everyday that you meet a ridiculously famous pop star.

I had just finished checking out possibly the largest pile of food, clothing, movies, and toys when a single pack of gum was layed down on the aisle. It was quite a relief.

"Hi, how are you today?" I ask, my words slowing down as the sentence went on. Because sure enough, Justin Timberlake is standing in front of me once again at register twelve. A small smirk creeps onto my lips.

"I'm fine," he says, obviously attempting to supress a smile and failing to do so.

"You do know that we have a twenty items or less line, don't you?" I ask, scanning the gum.

Wow, way to flirt, Margot!

His face reddens. He probably has a cold or something. He pauses before changing the topic completely.

"So how late do you work until anyway?" he asks, toying with his hair slightly.

"Six," I say, scrunching my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I was thinking about getting a job here," he says seriously before laughing as I roll my eyes.

"A dollar-seven," I announce as he swipes his card.

I am a bit relieved, no change to hand out this time.

I hand him the bag, waiting for the receipt to print.

"Just sign there," I insturct before laughing a little to myself.

"What?" he asks, looking up with a small, curious grin plastered on his face.

"I just...it's not how I expected to ask a celebrity for his signature," I say with a small smile.

"Are you saying you want my autograph?" he asks playfully and somewhat sarcastically.

"No, I'm good," I laugh.

"I'm pretty sure you do," he insists.

"I don't even have a piece of paper!" I exclaim in laughter. 

Although I try not to be like a typical girl, one thing I can't help but do is laugh when I flirt. I don't do cute laughter though; I do obnoxious fits that sound like I'm hypervantilating.

"Is there a Sharpie back there?" he asks, looking across the counter top.

"Yeah," I say, picking it up.

He snatches it from me, grabbing my right hand in the process, and takes off the lid with his mouth. He then proceeds to sign my hand. 

"Oh my gosh! I cannot believe that I, Margot Dean, have Justin Timberlake's signature on my hand!" I say with sarcastic glee as he finishes, handing me back the marker.

"You're a lucky girl," he tells me before flashing a smile.

I roll my eyes, a smile on my lips as well, before bidding him a goodbye.

"Hope you come back and spend more next time," I tell him with a fake bitter smile.

"I'll be sure to do that," he says with a laugh before leaving.

Everything starts to run through my head all at once. Justin Timberlake was...flirting with me? Maybe he's just really friendly. Or he feels bad for me because he knows I'll never find a guy. We did talk alot though, especially for an encounter between cashier and customer. I wish I could talk with him more. His energy is very intoxicating.

Apparently, he was thinking the same thing because what is written on my hand is not his signature. It reads, "Meet me outside Target at six. -JT".