Foto bij 4. Sex? Maybe!

“Oh my god! Justin Bieber?” I had to keep the phone away from ear to make sure it didn’t get damaged. Emma was screaming so loud, I barely understood what she was saying, “you’re kidding! Get me a autograph! His phone number! His address! Anything!”
“Call down!” I laughed as I held the phone between my head and my shoulder and started painting my nails. Burgundy red, my favorite color. I once tried to dye my hair burgundy red, but that didn’t turn out as good as I wanted it. Maybe because I wasn’t a professional hairdresser, but still.
“I really hoped it would be Ariana Grande,” Ruby sighed. I could hear her faking disappointment, which made me giggle. Whenever the topic Justin Bieber came up, she would pretend to be totally uninterested, but I knew better. I still remembered the day when I caught her screaming out his songs when I was at her front door. She had forgotten to close the window, allowing the whole street to listen.
“He looks freaking hot. Much better than in pictures. Bigger too. More masculine.”
“Really?” I heard Ruby ask, so-called uninterested, which made me giggle even more.
“He’s an ass, though. He ruined my dress with those disgusting stains,” as soon as I said it, I realized how wrong that would sound to my best friends. I swear, those two were sexually obsessed. Between their shrieks and screams I tried to tell them about the coffee stains, but it still took them quite some time to calm down.
“That sounded so much better in my head,” I muttered, grinning. There was a knock on the door and as I retold the story I stood up to get it. I opened the door, laughing, but my heart stopped when I saw who stood in front of me.
“Justin,” I recovered quickly, after which I put on my sweetest smile. My friends’ voices silenced at the other end of the phone, “come in. I’ll have to call you back, ladies.”
“Is he there? In your room?”
“Yeah, you idiot!” I giggled, as I beckoned Justin inside. He wore pale, ripped jeans and a T-shirt that was way too big. Not classy at all. I wouldn’t call it swag either. Ridiculous and unfashionable were more like it.
“Are you going to have sex?” Emma whispered which made me laugh out loud.
“Who knows,” I mumbled mysteriously, then I laughed again and aimed the phone on my be. That girl had so much imagination. Still grinning, I turned to him.
“So, what do you want?” I crossed my arms over my chest, pulled up an eyebrow and pursed my lips, “I’m guessing you’re not here because you want to apologize, so you’re either here because Scooter wants you to be here or because you want something from me.”
“We’re having dinner,” he nestled in a chair and placed his feet on the table, a smug look on his face.
“Hell no,” I answered as I pushed his feet of the table, “I don’t know which angle your playing, but that isn’t happening, mister!”
“Like I wanted this,” he sniffed and threw me a look, “I’ve got more interesting stuff to take care off.”
“Then go do that,” I said, “we aren’t going anywhere.”
“Like this was my idea!”
A knock on the door made me get up and intermit our discussion. What was wrong with just chilling by yourself at night? I had a jetlag, just leave me alone!
“What?” I asked brutally as I pulled the door open.
“You’re in a good mood tonight,” Charlotte frowned at me and I sighed. I gestured towards Justin, who had replaced his feet on the table, which I found utterly rude. “Oh, Justin! You’re here already?”
“Yes, Miss Johnson,” his smile was so phony it made me want to puck, but apparently I was the only one who noticed, because Charlotte started blushing like a 13 year old.
“Call me Charlotte, sweetie,” she winked, which made me even more nauseous, “you’ll make me feel so old!”
“I can’t imagine that, Miss Johnson,” I saw the twinkles in Charlotte’s eyes and sighed again. 43 years old! And still stupid enough to fall for this guys charms. If she kept going like this, she’d never find a man. I cleared my throat and raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, right,” Charlotte coughed as if she’d forgotten I was in the room, “I just came by to tell you we were having dinner with Justin and Scooter, but that’s like kicking in an open door, right? See you in half an hour in the lobby?”
“Half an hour?” I asked, trying to ignore the fact that Justin was right and I was going to dinner with him. Not just him, off course, but still…
“You look beautiful enough! You don’t even need half an hour!” she winked and closed the door behind her, not bothering to ask Justin to leave, which made me conclude that she wanted him to stay. I hated her.
“Make yourself at home,” I muttered, as I took some clothes at off my suitcase. I hadn’t bothered hanging my clothes in the closet yet, so there would probably be a lot of wrinkles. I didn’t care. I stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower on. As the hot water streamed over me, the tension slowly left my muscles. I washed of all the sweat and laziness from the long trip. I hadn’t felt how tense I actually was. The trip, the lack of knowledge, the meetings, it had all made my muscles stiff and strained. I rolled my shoulders to loosen them up and got ready. I chose a little black dress, made out of lace. I applied a little make-up, used my fingers to get some curls in my hair and smiled at the mirror. This would do. It was nice and a little sexy. You never knew who you’d run into, right?
When I walked into the room, Justin was still in the same chair, the same way as before. He was playing around on his phone and didn’t even look up when I walked in. I stepped into my high heels and snatched my bag off my bed.
“So, Bieber,” I tapped my high heels on the floor and looked at him, “I’m ready.”
“I’m coming,” he muttered, his eyes glued to his phone. He bit his lip, which was annoyingly sexy, and looked up. A little smile came to his lips as he let his eyes glide over me, an eyebrow pulled up.
“Are you coming or are you going to stare at me for the rest of the time?” I winked. I made sure I had the keycard to my room in my bag and smiled. I heard the bed creak slightly as Justin stood up and came my way. “After you, Mr. Bieber.”
Justin grinned ad offered my his arm. I pursed my lips and frowned. He sighed.
“I’ll try to be polite,” he offered, “can’t make any promises though.”
Well, that would have to do. With a seductive smile, I hooked my arm through his and we walked to the elevator. There was a silence in the air. Not an awkward silence, as I often had when I was with strangers. It was more like a tense silence, a wait-and-see silence, a silence that we both didn’t want or could break.
I didn’t like him. He was a blown up kind of guy, with an ego from here to Tokyo. This evening would only confirm that. But he looked hot and if he wanted to flirt, I wouldn’t stop him.

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