Tongue Piercings and Hair Flips

The next morning was bittersweet.

Sweet, because I had actually made it through the night without throwing up. Bitter, because I had the worst hang over in the history of worst hangovers.

But the highlight of the night had been kissing Justin, without a doubt. I mean, it wasn’t too great for him because he’s still convinced that he’s straight; but honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it was like kissing those illegal lips.

His mouth had tasted faintly of Sprite, and his resistance towards me had made it all the more better. I loved when people were difficult. However, the last thing he said before leaving kind of left me feeling like a filthy jerk. I had been completely drunk, and I had just continued to come onto him, when he’d made it obvious from the beginning that he didn’t dig it.

He didn’t even feel comfortable at the party, let alone having some old guy hitting on him.

But when I’d apologized, and he’d told me to apologize when I was sober kind of made me realize how angry I had made him. In my defense, I hadn’t had a fucking clue what I was saying, but still… He did deserve a proper apology… I mean, if I wanted to somehow get to him, I would need to at least be on his good side, right?

Right.

So I pulled my lazy butt out of bed and stumbled through my apartment, towards my cell. With the device in my hand, I scrolled through for Justin’s number, before I dropped him a text, asking if we could talk over coffee.

About five minutes later, I got an ‘OK’ from him, and smiled.

Little Bieber isn’t as badass as he thought, is he? Nope, he would forgive me easily, I could tell. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t still plead my case, or throw in a sob story, but you know… This little sixteen year old kid would be putty in my hands.

At least I hoped.

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It hadn’t taken me too long to get ready. I rocked that ‘just got out of bed’ look pretty well, seeing as my hair looked stupid when it was brushed, and the pedo-stache kind of suited me right now, after everything that happened last night. Hopefully my rapist facial hair wouldn’t scare Justin off. Then again, he probably didn’t even know what facial hair looked like, so I think any type of facial hair, rapist or not, would scare his balls right off him.

But back to the point. Since all I really did was brush my teeth and throw on some clean clothes, I was at the Starbucks near my apartment in no time, which left me time to think about some things while I waited for Justin.

Such as, what was the little douche bag doing in Vancouver anyway, other than tempting me into a highly frowned upon situation, which I doubted was intentional. I mean, he was Canadian, but I doubted that he liked to just roam Canadian cities in his spare time. Did he even have spare time?

From what I heard, he even worked on his vacations. Poor kid. What a hard life he lives.

And no, that was not sarcasm… Okay, well not totally. I’m sure he loves being chased around by screaming girls.

I bet he’d also love being chased around by screaming gay boys. Me in particular.

“Um… Hey” I heard someone say, and instantly I recognized the voice as Justin’s. I looked up, suddenly embarrassed about what I had been thinking before he showed up and smiled. I was suddenly very aware of how much of a pedophile I probably looked like.

I bet the media was just waiting outside to catch a picture of me escorting the young pop star to my candy-van.

“Hey um, so…” I said, scratching the back of my head before I absently rubbed my chin.

Something told me that that made me look like more of a pedo.

I just couldn’t win.