Recovery (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 3

I don't remember falling asleep last night. The last thing I remember was watching Family Guy. If I hear "The Bird Is The Word" one more time I might punch a bigger hole in the wall than Justin did.

Justin..

His actions race through my mind. He reacted so harshly. I wasn't sure exactly what triggered him and why it triggered him. He obviously has family issues. It's not my business. Maybe Melissa would tell me. I look over to see if Melissa is in bed, and she isn't there. She must have started her class earlier than I did.

I check the time and realize that I have 15 minutes to get to my lyrical class. I jump up and put my hair into a quick ponytail. I slide on jeans, and a shirt that covers up my breasts. I'm not comfortable with revealing myself to the world, but I'm not against those who do.

I grab a notebook, and rush out of my room. Looking around the campus, there are people playing their instruments. They're so comfortable with who they are. It's truly inspiring.

I finally find my class, sitting in an available seat in the front row. I look around to see a guy with brown hair sitting beside me. You can tell he is tall, and hes quite skinny.

My mind trails off to when I met Justin yesterday. His brown eyes were hypnotizing. When he put my hands on his abs, I was oddly loving it. Of course, I'd never admit that to him. He'd get cocky, like how he said I was checking him out. I was, but he didn't need to know that.

"Hello...um..do you want to work together?" The guy next to me waves his hands in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts. 

"I...What? Uh..sure." I'm slightly embarrassed by me being so caught off guard.

"I'm assuming you have no idea what he just assigned us to do. He just wants us to write a chorus based on our first meeting. It can be silly, or sweet. It's just his way of us getting to know each other." He starts to pull out his notebook. I glance over to see the many unheard lyrics that are written in his notebook.

"You...wrote all of those? Have you shown them to anyone?" I ask, curiously.

"No, actually. I don't plan on showing anyone until I feel comfortable with my own writing. I'm not sure it's good." He flips his notebook to a blank sheet.

"I'm sure it is good. Anything you have written from you and your views are good. You have to trust yourself." I can tell he doesn't really want to talk about it by the way he looks down at his paper. "I'm Brooklyn. I am 18. I lived in Ohio, and I just moved here without ever coming here."

His eyes widened, "you came all the way from Ohio without...visiting Los Angeles? How would you know you'd like it?"

"I didn't, but music is what I want to do. Writing music has been my passion. This is where I belong. I didn't catch your name..."

He smiles innocently, nervously playing with his fingers, "I'm Nate. I'm 18. I've lived in Los Angeles for quite a while. I've been a writer since I was in 6th grade. Of course, I wasn't good at it. If I wrote it was about how a girl stepped on my shoe and turned my white shoe black, but that sure was my first heartbreak."

I laughed, a bit too loudly, noticing people staring and Nate just shook his head and laughed. He told me all about his love for comic books and superheros. He is into my favorite band All Time Low. We both have the same music taste. I told him about how I like my room mate and how the Hollywood sign is right outside my window. He told me he loved the color blue. He is interesting. He's really fun. I could see us having a wonderful friendship.

The teacher stood in front of the class, "Class is dismissed. If you have not finished your work, get your partners number and be ready with your chorus tomorrow."