Baby, Tell Me Something I Don't Know...

Selena Gomez is an average 17 year old at high school. Before Justin became a star, Selena and Justin were soulmates and they shared an in separable bond with each other. They always promised each other they would stay best friends for ever but they both grew up, things change and people change.
After Selena's 12th birthday party, everything changed between them. He chose Ariana over Selena and rose to fame, soon forgetting about everything they had.
5 and a half years later Justin mysteriously starts attending Selena's high school wanting her back but Selena knows there's more than what meets the eye.


3. Chapter 3

*Justin’s POV*

I knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore me forever, I just now need to get her to forgive me-which obviously isn’t going to be easy-and keep this from Ariana.

“So, are we okay now…?” I asked her.

She laughed, “In your dreams pretty boy, it’s going to take a bit more than a few Bieber charms to make me forgive you” she laughed and walked off, okay this is going to be harder than what I was just thinking.
On normal girls…you see, usually one smile makes them faint, but not Selena, maybe thats why I like her so much and why I came back…woah Justin…what are you thinking,  you only came back so you can fix your relationship for the media. You and her and whatever you guys had will never ever be a thing.

Ever again. 


*Selena’s POV*


I know some girls would be married to Justin if he was paying this much attention to them by now but he’s not all that and a breathtaking smile. I know Justin well enough to know that his “manager” didn’t make him come back to school, he’s Justin Bieber for Gods sake.

But if he really wants me to forgive him then he wouldn't  lie right? But maybe he genuinely wants to see me but what if he ends up doing exactly the same thing and what if- ow, all these questions are just making my brain hurt, I guess the only answer is what he is saying, right?




So far, I have gotten 30 roses from "someone secret" in my locker, on my desk, delivered during class and at my doorstep.
Gee I wonder who that could be...definitely not the annoying, cocky, smart ass guy following me around who so happens to be Justin Bieber!

"So Selena, forgive me yet?” Justin asked when I found another dozen roses in my locker.

"Justin, you should know by now that giving me hundreds of flowers and buying me stuff isn't going to prove that you're sorry and you won't do it again."

He sighed loudly. "Can't you just accept the fact that Justin Bieber is trying to be your friend and move on with life?” he frustratedly asked while fixing his snap-back. 


"Justin you actually make me sick, look at all those girls crying for you I'm sure they'd love to be your friend" I spat and walked off but how far can I go? He's in my every class.

"But I don't understand why you can't just forgive me?” He asked “I am trying hard here” he said sitting down next to me.

"Because Justin, I know you...better than anyone else, and right now this isn't my actual best friend Justin, it's like you have a giant wall and- and you’re showing everyone the charming, talented you but on the other side is the real Justin and until I see him back you ain't gaining any of my trust" I said and for once I didn't get an annoying remark, maybe he knows it's true too.


*Justin's POV*


It's so hard. I don't want to be a fake, selfish guy, I'm  here for one thing only, for the media and press but it's so hard trying to continuously remind myself not to fall for her.

Being famous changes you, the media makes you seem like someone you're not, someone you would never want to be and yet you have no control over it. Whenever I see Selena my instincts kick in and I want to act like a best friend, I want to be me and tell her the truth and I want to be able to be us again but that gets pushed to a dark, unknown place in my mind and is taken over by fame, fortune and greed and everyday I wake up hating myself knowing that she's going to find out the truth sooner or later and be heartbroken all over again.

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