Misery of You: Justin Bieber (Book #1 of Perky Pursuits Series)

October 17th: It's Called A Paused Motion

October 17th. Monday.

When I got the phone call from Justin this morning, telling me that he wanted to come over my house this afternoon, I told him that he couldn't. It wasn't that I still didn't like him, but I wasn't comfortable being around him as I was with Nick or Brenton. He was still the same person who would utterly try his best to make me want to turn and punch a wall if he dared himself to touch me or play with my hair. I wasn't comfortable around him just yet. Yes, yet.

He sent me a response text, saying that if he couldn't come to my house, then I could meet him at the park near our school. I just asked him why he wanted to meet up with me anyways. He said that it wasn't anything important, and that he just wanted to see me. I sighed, rolling my eyes. I went into my closet to get my purple, thin sweater, and I heard my mom open the door after she said my name.           

She asked me, "Where are you going, sweetie?", when she saw me closing my closet door. She had her hair braided in a bun, which I often liked since she always wore her hair in a style that made her seem "filthy-rich"--- and it bugged me half the time.
Sometimes, Nick would ask my mother if she was going to meet the President since she always wore her hair nicely curled or in a fancy hairstyle. (It felt nice that for once she wasn't wearing her hair in a style such as that. It made me feel like one of those regular families that weren't snobby or "rich" because we weren't. Not calling us poor or anything.) 

I told my mother, "I'm going to meet...someone." She just looked at me, wondering what I meant when I said 'someone'. So, I said, "I'm meeting a friend, mom."

The questionable look still smeared on her face, although, I was the one who was in question with myself. Since when did I consider Justin a 'f-r-i-e-n-d'? Like I said, I wasn't all that comfortable around the guy yet, so that's a long step. Yet, in a way, considering him a 'friend', didn't make my stomach cringe as I thought it would. Was he my friend?

My mom just sighed out, crossing her arms over her chest before leaning back against the door way to my bedroom door. She shook her head for a moment, her lips then crooked upward slightly before telling me that it was obvious for anyone--- as in, anybody ---to know that was her daughter.

"If you have a boyfriend, then just tell me" she snorted. Then she looked at me. "Unless, it's a girl. That's fine too, honey."

My eyes widened and I shook my head, telling her that I didn't have a boyfriend nor a girlfriend. "Mom, I'm just seeing a friend, okay? If I was dating anyone, I'd tell you, I swear it."

"Don't swear, bae." She stood straight up and fixed her purple shirt that she often wore as an indoor shirt when not busy. It draped down pass her waist and her brown slacks were baggy around her ankles, but thank God for drawstrings. "I trust you", she said, "and I expect to be back home while not being involved with any trouble, got it?"

(That's the funny thing, when it comes to Justin Bieber, there's always going to be trouble. He's the one who pulls pranks, making students and teachers wonder if there's a real fire after pulling the fire alarm--- although he's never been caught, except by me. He's the one who plays with my hair after I tell him to stop over and over again. He's the one who pressures people into doing the most regrettful and unforgivable things. And here I go, to see him. Ain't I a sucker, too?)

After telling my mom--- more like promising, I should say ---that I wouldn't get into trouble, she let me leave. Dad was in his study, I didn't bother him. Especially since he had the door cracked. Whenever the door was cracked it was like a warning sign that was flashing constantly, reminding people that he was in deep 'work-mode' and wouldn't appreciate being bothered. "Unless you're dying or someone has been dead or was killed, don't come in" is what he's necessarily saying.