Platinum Heart

Winter Rose Ridland has always been rich. She's used to the maids cleaning for her, the butlers fetching her food, the kids at school bowing down before her, and the constant spending money--but what she isn't used to is surprise road trips. When her dad decides that it's time to send her to boarding school, the family packs up and leaves. What they weren't expecting was a freak car accident, and what Winter wasn't expecting was to survive--and more importantly, she wasn't expecting herself to be found. Will she find a way back to her old life, or will the boy who saves her show her a different one? © 2013 by beliebervision. All Rights Reserved.


15. 15: "Please Don't Make Me Regret This."

"Go ahead," I say as I look up at Justin, who is standing still with his phone gripped tightly in his hands. He glances at me and then back down at the phone. After another moment, he finally clicks Scooter's number and puts the phone on speaker. Scooter picks up after the third ring. 

"Justin," he says. "What's up?" 

"Winter and I need two plane tickets to Atlanta, ASAP." 

There is a long pause. "Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely positive. I think." Justin says and I laugh quietly. He looks over at me and smiles. Him and Scooter exchange a few more words and then he ends the call. I look up at him with my hands behind my back, waiting to hear what else Scooter said. 

Justin glances at me. "Got anything to pack?" 

"A few things." I say. 

"Good, cause you don't need them." he grabs my wrist and pulls me with him outside. He shrugs his jacket off and gives it to me before going back inside to grab Ryan. My gaze lingers by the door for a moment, but is soon captivated by the black, expensive-looking Range Rover on the curb. 

I open my mouth in awe, and Justin is suddenly beside me again. "Fancy, huh?"

I nod, but still have nothing to say about the car. So I go with, "Why don't I have to pack my things?" 

"What?" Justin asks, sounding momentarily confused. I look over at him and catch his eye right as he looked away from me. "Oh, because I told Scooter to send a friend of mine places to get you new clothes and stuff." 

"Like...a guy?"

He scratches his chin briefly as if to waste time, and says, "No. My guy friends know nothing about girls." 

I nod, and Ryan comes bounding down the steps to where we stand. He grins. "So we finally get to get back to the big life, huh?"

Justin shrugs. "If that's what you wanna call it." 

We start walking to the car, and I climb into the back. "Where are we going, exactly?" I ask. Justin turns around in the drivers seat and answers while he puts on a snapback and sunglasses. 

"To the nearest empty field. Apparently, there's a jet waiting for us." 


The jet, of course, is insanely nice. There's rows of beige leather seats facing each other, with tables in the middle. I plop myself into a row, Ryan takes the row across the aisle from me, and Justin sits across from me. 

Ryan falls asleep immediately, while Justin has other ideas. I watch him reach under his seat and grab a laptop. He places it onto the table in between us. I look up at him. 

"What's that?" 

"My laptop." he says. "I haven't used know..."

I nod. "I know. But why?" 

"This sounds stupid, but I'd be too tempted to go on twitter. I was too tempted, so I stored it under here where I wouldn't be able to get to it. And now," he sighs. "I want to use it so badly." 

"But you can't." I finish. I, myself, am tempted to do something insane, but I don't. "Not yet."

Justin shrugs. "You know, I could." his eyes flicker up to meet mine and he smiles wide. "I actually have a couple of accounts that nobody knows that are mine." 

I let out a small laugh. "Really? I thought those were just rumors." 

"Well," he says as he starts up the laptop. "I see plenty of tweets--and I've retweeted some--that say stuff like, 'what if justin made a fan account and pretended to be a fan?' Well, I have one." As I shrug his jacket off me, he spins the computer around so I can see the screen. I let a smile creep onto my face. 

Of course, Justin has a full fledged fan account for himself. Go figure. He actually has a good bit of followers, too. The one flaw is--

"You didn't tweet about your own death." I notice. Justin turns the laptop so the back is facing the window above the table. He frowns. 

"Yeah, and?" 

I point to a tweet that says: 'you're not even a real belieber. you probably never even appreciated Justin when he was alive so I suggest you get the fuck out.' 

"Jeez." he says. "My fans are harsh." 

"No kidding." I agree and continue to scroll through the tweets directed towards him. After a while it just becomes too much and I reach to shut the computer off, but Justin catches my wrist. 

"It's okay." he looks at me to prove his point. I frown, sigh, and nod. "I'm used to it. Plus, these are my fans and I can tolerate it. I also want to check one last thing." 

I nod, still not wanting to speak for some reason that even I didn't know. As I look out the window, I can see Justin staring at me from the corner of my eye. "Winter." 

I glance at him. "What?" 

"What's up? You just turned all mad-belieber on me." he says, half joking. 

I sigh. I want to say 'nothing' and just shake it off, but I can't stay frustrated with my only friend over something so little. "I just didn't like how mean they were being to you, even if it was you. What if it wasn't? What if they had said that to another real fan who probably was too grief-stricken to even get online ever again. What if it was someone who cared about you, and those girls saying those things just made that fan make her want to kill herself even more than before?" 

It takes him a moment to register that. And then another to actually give me an answer. 

"Like I said, it doesn't bother me." 

I scoff. "Really? I think it should. I remember when you did this thing to stomp out bullying or whatever, and you're saying it doesn't bother you." 

"Because they're saying those things towards me, not somebody else. It shouldn't matter." 

I roll my eyes. "Please don't make me regret this trip. I can always go home and live with a maid or something." 

Justin's demeanor becomes somewhat sad. "Don't." 

I look over at him. "I won't, but I'm just saying. You should really think about how brutal your fans are being right now." 

"Alright, but what I'm wondering is why you care." he says. 

I point to myself in disbelief. "Me? Why do I care? Because I know how it feels Justin. I was bullied too, even though I was the cool girl who bought people things. You think they asked nicely? No, Justin, they didn't. They'd bother me to the point of giving in, and sometimes they'd beat the shit out of me until I agreed to buy them something nice. I'd go to the nurse and tell her that I needed to go home, and I'd go out to a car dealership and buy those kids a new Mercedes." I pause, try not to cry in front of him. "And," my voice is getting shaky. "it's horrible. It feels horrible, Justin. That's why I care. I care about all those girls who care about you, but are being told that they don't. You're their rock. You keep them grounded, even if they still think you're dead. So you'd better start giving a shit because there are plenty of girls out there who you should start caring about." Then the tears stream slowly down my cheeks. I close my mouth and wipe them away with my arm. 

"Winter..." Justin reaches his arm across the table to grab my hand, but I sink back into the seat. I don't want him to comfort me. I don't want him around me right now, in fact. 

"We may have money in common," I say as I stand up. "But you did not have the life that I did." 

"I've had my fair share of hate, Winter." he says defensively. I shake my head. 

"Then tell me about it some other time because I just want to be alone." 

Justin looks up at me, but doesn't say another word. Which I'm glad about. I wipe more tears off my cheeks as I wander into the back section of the plane. I find a booth-seat without a table in between the other, and lie down on it. Within seconds, I'm out like a light, and I'm glad.

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