I tried. I really did. But I can't do it. Every thing I do makes me wish Justin was there to see me do it. I was having dreams that involved hot, steamy sex and some chocolate sauce. And worst of all, Justin didn't seem to notice.
He was too damn caught up in how good Beyonce looked in a dress.
So, here I am. On a Friday night. All alone. Watching “How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days.” Probably not the best choice of movie for my situation, but what the hell. How many times can you have your heart stabbed?
As Kate Hudson started crying about her weight, my phone rang.
“Hello,” I asked, my eyes never leaving the idiot box.
The caller cleared his throat, and I swear, my blood pressure went up. See what he does to me?
“Hi,” Justin said nervously as rap music pounded in the background. He was probably at a club, which meant he was probably dancing with some hot girl, which meant that he still had no idea how much pain I'm in.
“Hi.”
There was an awkward silence and I heard distinct lyrics through the phone: “Fuck me harder, babe, I wanna bone you harder, babe.”
I snorted.
“Nice song.”
I heard him smile. Isn't weird how some people can do that?
Justin cleared his throat again, and I sensed he was nervous.
“Listen,” he began. “I was, um, wondering if you could do something for
me?”
It took every ounce of self control not to drop the phone and run around screaming about how I'd go to the guillitine for you, baby!
“Talk to me.” Heh. Ms. Smooth, I'm tellin' ya.
“Could you stop staring at me?”
Okay, not the question I was looking for.
Justin could probably envision my visage sink. He could probably imagine my heart stop beating. He could probably tell I was about to cry.
Yeah, right.
I snorted.
“You're delusional, dude. We're friends.” Except, now that I think about it, I
had been staring.
“No, I'm not,” Justin countered. “It makes me uncomfortable. Especially since I think of you like my sister.”
Huh?
“I guess you treat your sister like crap then,” I said, ice dripping from my voice.
“No, but you're like a fucking stalker.”
“Except I'm not, you retard.”
Justin would be rolling his eyes right about now. Jeez, maybe I am a stalker.
“Look, could you please just leave me alone.”
“Gladly!” I yelled back.
Slamming the phone down, I angrily wiped the tears from my eyes as I padded into the kitchen for some more ice cream.
How dare he. I could have been the best thing that ever happened to him, and he has the audacity to call me names!
He was right, though.
The pain in my heart was tell-tale. He didn't love me like I loved him. He didn't worship the ground I walked on. And he sure as hell wouldn't drop everything if I broke a leg or something. Even though I tried to ignore it, the plain reality was glaring at me like a sick joke.
Justin Timberlake doesn't give a damn.
And yet, I'd still give him everything.
Why can't he just set me free?
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