You're My Special Little Lady

Oceanup.com is the most annoying website.

Ever.

They get everything – the littlest of things to the biggest. Justin and I hug for a second and BAM! They got it up two seconds later.

It annoys the shit outta me. For example, the shirt I wore yesterday, the one that had his name on it? It's there. And they went crazy over him covering that song and dedicating it to me.

Katie seems to be suffering from Bieber Fever!

We snapped some pics of her leaving the JB tour bus today, sporting a Justin Bieber shirt. Way to support your man, Katie!

Four words; S. T. F. U.

Do you remember that song by Edwin McCain? That super amazing, beautiful, love song? Well, we just remembered it because Justin Bieber covered it!

And, to top it all off, he dedicated it to his best friend, Katelyn Holloway! The song is called I'll Be and it is totally and completely romantic.

JB clearly said to the audience, “It's dedicated to my best friend, Katie,” but if she was just his best friend, why would he dedicate a song like that to her?

THEY ARE SO ANNOYING!
They interpret the littlest of things into these big ordeals. I mean, okay, that is a love song, but who cares? He didn't write it for me, did he?

Sighing deeply, I looked to the date on the corner of the screen; 7:32. I yawned. I was only up this early because I passed out the second I hit the hotel bed. Which is much more comfortable than the bunks in the bus, by the way.

“I am so tired.” I groaned, following Justin down a hallway. He nodded.

“Me, too. I can't wait to lie down.”

“In a real bed.” I grinned. He smiled, sliding the card into the door and pushing it open. I noticed one thing immediately; there was only one comfortable looking, amazing bed. I dashed for it, sprawling out. “Yaaaaay.” I groaned, stretching out my tired limbs. Justin flopped down beside me, doing the same. “Hey, this is my bed.” I said childishly.

“Our bed.” He smirked, sitting up and shaking his head, messing up his hair. “I'm taking a shower.”

“I'm going to sleep.” I crawled under the covers. “Do not wake me up.”

“Taking a shower tomorrow?”

“Yep.” I yawned. He kissed my forehead.

“Night, Katie.”

“Night.”

About twenty minutes later, he came out in his pajamas, all squeaky clean, chuckling at the sight of me out cold.

I took a shower about an hour ago, and had changed into my pajamas. An old batman shirt and gray sweats; I was so comfortable. I could faintly hear Justin snoring. He got more sleep than me. Little twit. He's gonna have to wake up eventually, though.

I logged into twitter, having nothing else to really do.

kaybearbiebz it's way too early to be awake, but good morning anyway :)

A moment later, and a bunch of the people that were following me because of Justin starting replying. All saying good morning, or that is was late where they lived, asking about Justin, etc. Speaking of Justin....

I grabbed my camera from the one suitcase I had brought in the hotel. I grinned, snapping a picture of Justin; he was cuddling with the pillow, sleeping peacefully. I uploaded it to the twitter picture thing, posting a link in a new status.

kaybearbiebz @justinbieber says good morning, too. hahahaha.

Beaming, I read over the reactions and the comments that were posted immediately after. He's gonna kill me for that.



“Morning, Katie,” the raspy voice of a now awake Justin said. I turned, smiling at him.

“Morning.” I stood, walking over and sitting beside him. He peered up at me with tired eyes before snuggling into my side.

“I'm tired.”

“I know,” I ran a hand through his hair, “but you have to wake up.”

“I don't want to.”

“You have stuff to do.”

“I don't feel good.” He mumbled. I frowned.

“Another headache?”

“Yeah.” I placed my hand on his cheek, smiling sadly.

“I'm sorry, baby, but you have to wake up.” The pet-name slipped on accident. I hated seeing him like this. It made me sad. He groaned, forcing himself to sit up.

“I feel like shit.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. I rubbed his back. He leaned against me, burying his face in my shoulder. “I'm so tired.” I felt horrible. I wished I could just let him go back to sleep, but he has more interviews and things to do today. I could feel a fever coming on already. He shouldn't go out – he shouldn't have to. It's not fair that he does.



“You're coming with me?” He asked through his scratchy voice, smiling.

“Yeah.” I nodded, flashing a small smile back. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really.” He opened the limo door for me, allowing me in first. He had requested that the guards silence the crowd before he came out. They did what they were told, and not a single person spoke as we drove off. He, again, rested his head on my shoulder, closing his eyes. I turned, leaning against the window and let him lie on top of me, his arms around me. “I love you, Katie.”

“Love you, too, Jay-bear.” I said back, biting my lip. About ten minutes later, we arrived at the place his photo shoot was. He had dozed off and I had to wake him up again. “Justin, wake up.”

“No.”

“Come on, we're here.”

“I don't care.” His grip around me tightened.

“Justin,” I scolded, pushing at him, “get up.”

“No.”

“Please?” I asked innocently. “If you love me?” I used his own trick against him. HA.

“Fine.” He grumbled, sitting up. “Only cause you're my Kay-bear. Anyone else could of screwed themselves.” I giggled, following him out. He grasped my hand as we walked in.

“Justin has a headache.” I told the photographer. “So, please don't yell at him if he makes a mistake or something.” The woman nodded. Justin had mentioned yesterday that the photographer had been a man. Guess he asked for a new one. They put some powder on his face to make him look healthy; he was pale, because, you know, he's sick. And shouldn't be here. He flashed dazzling smiles at the cameras, striking the poses they told him to. Then, about half an hour in, he just stopped smiling. He held his head before tumbling to the ground. I was at his side in a flash. “Justin? Justin, are you okay?”

“I-I'm fine.” He stuttered. “I have to finish the shoot.”

“No.” I shook my head. “We're leaving. You're sick.”

“I'm fine.” He insisted, trying to stand. I pressed my lips to his forehead, pulling back in shock.

“You're burning up!”

“For you, baybeh.” He tried grinning, but started coughing instead. I pulled him up and held him around the waist.

“But...” the woman began.

“No.” I snapped. “You got enough damn pictures. He's sick. We're leaving.” I pulled him outside, back to the limo. There were people, as always, yelling. They stared in surprise as I nearly dragged him to the vehicle. “Go back to the hotel.” I said to the limo driver. I turned, looking out the open window at one of the guards. “Call for his nurse.” He nodded, taking out his cellphone. Justin had his own personal nurse. (A/N: Making this up.) She was an elderly woman who traveled around with us. I held Justin as the limo driver sped through traffic. He was already unconscious.