Fascination - JB

Tutor and Pizza

June 16th, 2016

He was completely oblivious of myself looking - no, checking him out - I was checking him out as he had his full attention towards the board and taking notes. He sits a few rows further than I do. What is he doing actually paying attention in class? He should be back here with me trying to flirt.

No, you're just a hoe that can't take action into your own hands... He's no fuckboy.

Ignoring my inner insulting voice, the lecture was over and the whole student body that say on their ass for an hour got up, packed their things and headed out. I and the other guy were the last two. I took my time. I watched as he shoved his notes into his backpack, put his glasses into a snap-case and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"Mr. Bieber and Miss y/l/n, may I have a word with you two?" The teacher looked up from his desk through his specticals and motioned for us to be stood in front of him. So that's his name...

"Is something wrong, sir?" I asked walking up to his desk. I am genuinely confused. I stood by the Bieber kid. "Actually, there is. You have a low D in my class." He informs me. That makes more sense. This class is hard and not to mention boring. I cannot focus. "What does that have to do with me?" Bieber spoke up. His voice genuinely confused just and I was two seconds ago. "You have the highest grade in this class, I'm sure you have time to spare just to help out miss y/l/n over here," he smiles condescendingly towards me.

"All due respect, but I have practice. I don't have time to help her," he says rather bitterly. "Ouch," I say under my breath. "Well make time, she needs to lass this class with at least 'B'." "That's not my prob-" I cut him off because I don't want to hear anymore offensive words, he was cuter when he was quiet. "Sir, sorry to interrupt but I never asked for the help and since he doesn't want to help me at all, can I just get dropped from this class and pick another?" "You can't just "drop" this class. It's required to graduate," Baldy over here is not letting this go.

I let out a huff of frustration. "Then I'll go to a study group." "Sir, can I leave now?" Bieber spoke up. "No and no. You'll get distracted so suck it up. You, Bieber, will tutor her. Find the time." He sternly says. He glares at the pair of us. And quite frankly, neither of us want to be here. It's a dead vibe. "You're now excused." He dismisses us and pay his focus to the papers on his desk.

Justin rushes out before I do. I lollygaged my ass out of the class because now, I'm just in a terrible mood. Once I walked out of the lecture room, Bieber spoke up, "here's my number. Text me your address and I'll meet you there when soccer practice is over," he handed me a small folded sheet of paper with ten little digits on it. I looked over the piece of paper to try and memorize it. I look back up and Bieber was gone.

As soon as I got home, I took a quick shower. I changed into more comfortable clothes, tied my hair up into a high messy pony tail and sat on my bed.

To: Bieber

1226 N. 91st ave. Whiteoak Apartments
Third floor, first door on your left Apt 301*

After sending that text, I wasn't too eager to wait for his reply. He'll show up when he does. You know, if he didn't open his mouth and come off as rude, I would literally stare at my phone until he replied.

Opening my MacBook laptop, I started writing my literature class's prompt. I was good with English literature and all history/civics classes but I bomb mathematics and science. Bieber and I share Mathematics class.

My phone buzzed.

From: Bieber

Alright. I'll be over in an hour. Please be ready and organized when I get there.