I'm Not Sorry: A Justin Bieber Fan Fiction

Eighteen

♥ god, w h y - p a r t two ♥

✌

Sighing as I placed my purse on a dry part of the marble table near the sink, I supported myself as I stretched my hand down to the sides, back hunched, ass out, legs apart.

Ugh, so what if the waitress looked slutty in the way she dressed?

I couldn't deny the fact that she looked so much mature, sexy, and beautiful than I was. It was so damn bothering that I just had to give myself some time to muster up some confidence.

I've never been good at these things.

And honestly. . . That waitress had many things I didn't have. 

But you're just fourteen, why are you pressuring yourself? She could be like a fifty-year old woman pedophile who has gotten way too much botox. Plus, you're so pure, she's so. . . not pure, talk about fucking gross.

Okay, I had to laugh at myself there.

But I was still serious about the point I made up there.

First of all, she had ice blue eyes that made her look attractive enough. As compared to my dark blue ones. . . Mine were a warm blue, while hers were a seductive blue that couldn't even be compared to mine.

Secondly, she had bone cheeks that made her eyes stand out more. Meanwhile, I was walking from places to places with my sharp, long face. Sigh, sigh.

Thirdly, her hair looked like they were naturally a dirty blond, and it seemed to be silky smooth, whereas mine was pure brown―a mixture of light and dark, and also a little bit of black, since my grandma had jet black hair. It was smooth, but I'd like to bet that it wasn't near silky smooth.

Forth out of all, her skin wasn't pale, and neither was it tan, it was like, just perfect. . . While mine, it's all pale. I looked like damn Snow White, for God's sake. I remember there was a point in time last year when Jenna was so obsessed with princesses that she'd always call me Snow White, siiiigh.

Fifth, she had a killer hourglass figure. Big boobs, small waist, thin hips― but me? I was nothing but three quarter of her size. Sure I had boobs between cups B and C, but I bet hers were like, D. And sure, I had curves but damn she made me look like I was just ten with nothing but a number one stick figure.

Lastly, she had the longest legs I've ever seen, almost enough to be compared a model's. Sure, mine was long either, but. . . Ugh, she was just perfect, okay. If she could just dress properly, I bet there would be modelling agents hitting her up.

But basically, I mean to say if I went back there only to find Justin smooching with her, I wouldn't be surprised anyway.

Giving my head a light shake, I heaved another sigh before clasping my purse in my hand as I quickly made my way back into the room.

Expecting only Justin to be alone, I was a step behind to reaching when a loud, familiar screech practically deafened my ears.

What the hell was she doing in there?

"Stop it!" She squeaked out, making me lean against the wall to listen in on their conversation. "Stop, just stop!"

"I can't just stop myself for loving my girlfriend, you know that?" Justin yelled in frustration, making her huff out loud. "What are you even trying to do, pushing yourself on me? Do you not have shame? Oh, wow."

"It's because I'm shameless that I'm daring, Justin!"

"No," he calmly stated this time, as she remained quiet. "Know what? You're just a good for nothing, slutty ass waitress, who hits on every guy that catches your eye. I bet you'd even hit on a bloody fat ass if he was rich. You're a gold digging whore, I'm sure."