Too Close for Comfort • jdb ( #wattys2016 )

(22) Good Men & Bad Men

(22) Good Men & Bad Men
Justin

"Baby, señorita, ma chérie, please be my little lady, my little lady
Mi amor, you're the one I adore, come on be my little lady, my little lady." I sing out as I stand over the bed post, guitar in hand, serenading Mary, who lays naked over the duvet, hands crossed over her toned stomach, listening intently with a large grin on her face.

"That's beautiful," she coos. "How'd you learn so many languages?"

I chuckle, taking the strap of the guitar from around my neck and placing it near the dresser facing the bed. "In rehab, I was roomed with a French guy who would talk to his Hispanic wife on the phone everyday. I picked up on a few things along the way."

She presses her hand to her mouth and snickers lightly. "Wow, how convenient."

"I know, right." I crash next to her on the bed and turn around to face her. We haven't left this room in 24 hours, and they've been the best 24 hours of my life.

I find myself openly staring at her, as I bring my hand to her cheek, tucking a wisp of her dark hair away from her eyes.

God, how the hell is she so perfect?"

She looks back at me with wondering eyes. "Justin," she leans into my touch. "What are we?"

I scrunch my eyebrows. "What do you mean?" (A/N ok go ahead 😂)

She sighs and turns away a little, so she's now facing the ceiling. "I mean, our title. Are we officially together or what?"

I sigh and out my hand on her cheekbone, bringing her head to face me once again. "If there's one thing I know in this world, it's that I don't ever wanna be with anyone else except you. And I want more than anything to scream it to the world that you're mine, but you know we can't do that. People wouldn't understand."

She narrows her eyes a little. "Goddamn it Justin, it's not like we're related or anything. And besides, we didn't even grow up with each other, I literally just started to getting to know you 4 months ago."

I raise her head with my chin. "I understand that. But other people won't. Our parents, Scooter, Clarissa; no one will ever get it."

She looks hurt. "Since when do you care so much about what other people think?"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My mouth parts as I contemplate an answer, when, God help me-the phone rings. 

saved by the bell.

I quickly roll over, picking it up from my nightstand and putting it on speaker.

"Hello." I greet.

"Justin, hey, it's your dad." the other line says.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know, dad. I have caller ID."

His voice sounds shaky as he speaks. "R-right. Well listen, you and Mary need to come home."

We look at each other with knitted brows. "Why is that, dad? I told you we'd be here until Sunday."

I hear him take a deep breath. "I know son, but this is urgent."

"Is everything ok?"

There's hesitation on the other line, and it takes a few seconds before I hear him finally speak again.