Foto bij 2. Enchanted to meet you

I saw my Caramel Frappuccino fly into the air in slow motion, as it does in movies. I saw the lid slipped off the cup and make huge, brown stains on my dress. A squeaky sound came out of my mouth, and I angrily stared at the one who had run into me.
“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” I snapped, pointing at my dress. “Look what you’ve done now!”
“You should look out!” the boy crossed his arms. His hood was pulled far forward, so I could see his face. He was about a head taller than me and I was in high heels, “you saw me walking here!”
“Get out! I was here making a cup of coffee!” I exclaimed, putting my hands on my hips, “as if I could see you walking there! Look at my dress!”
“The dress? Are you kidding?” he shouted, “look at my shoes, idiot!”
“That’s water, stupid!”
“What’s going on here?” the door to Scooter’s office opened and two heads turned in our direction, “stop yelling! People are working.”
“Look at my dress, Char,” I said with a pout while I approached her. I gave the boy my deadliest glance, but he didn’t seem to care, “that dick practically threw it over me!”
“Jeez! You don’t really believe that, do you? She wasn’t paying attention.”
“You were being an ass!”
“Enough!” Charlotte’s voice silenced all of us. She pointed at Scooter’s office and obediently, we went inside, “Aimee, I want you to apologize.”
“What?” I stared at her. My dress was ruined, my Caramel Frappuccino was drying up on the floor instead of keeping me awake and yet I had to apologize to that kid? I wanted to shake my head and snarl something at her, but I saw in her eyes that she was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow and I sighed.
“Sorry,” I murmured, almost unintelligible. I crossed my arms over my chest in anger and stared at the wall in front of me. That was the most this kid could get from me. I was not responsible for this mess. I couldn’t help it that I didn’t have eyes on my ass. I heard him whisper something unintelligible and assumed that he also apologized, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care much either.
“Well, now that we’re all here,” Scooter muttered, as he exchanged glances with Charlotte, “we might as well introduce you right now. Aimee, this is Justin. Justin, this is Aimee. She will be your openings act.”
I turned in his direction, staring at a face I once admired. He pulled his hood off his head as we exchanged glances. He had hazelnut eyes, covered with little golden sparkles and a face without any emotion. Hated by many, loved by more. Justin Bieber, with his dangerous aura and his mysterious smirks, Mr. Sexiness and bad boy supreme. The boy I love to hate.

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