Call Me A Liar [Book 1] (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

3

Birdie and I stay at the theater until the boys' movie lets out around 10 o'clock that evening. She offers Patrick and I to stay the night— a very normal thing for the four of us— but we pass on it knowing our parents are probably going to give us some kind of backhanded lecture when we get home. They've both been drinking since dinner so if we face it now, it'll be much less vicious.

When we push through the glass double doors, we are greeted by a beautiful spring night. Summer is approaching quickly, I can tell by the way the cicadas sing and the slightly dampened air brushes over my skin.

It's a beautiful feeling. It feels like sleeping in and staying out late, careless nights, getting wine drunk with Birdie, swimming at the lake, and strawberry ice cream. I know it's a cliché, but there's just nothing like it.

"How was it?" I ask Patrick, clicking the unlock button on my key fob.

He shrugs, his light brown hair moving with the nighttime breeze. "Better than home."

"So is brain surgery," I scoff, crossing my arms over my stomach.

Though the late spring air is comfortable, my bare legs can't get to the car fast enough. I didn't have time to change out of my clothes from Mom and Dad's party, so I'm still wearing a dress that was so kindly picked out for me.

My comment makes him laugh.

"Wanna stay over at Birdie's tomorrow night since we blew them off?" I ask, looking over to Patrick.

He nods. "I have baseball practice until five, but we can go after."

"Okay. I can pick you up, if you want."

"Cool."

I bite the inside of my cheek, then look up to see that my car is just a little ways away now. A strand of my dark brown hair falls over my face, and I'm quickly tucking it behind my ear.

My mind wanders to my conversation with Birdie about Jack's boxing lessons in Linford, and I wonder if Patrick has any idea.

"Hey, I didn't know Jack took up boxing," I nudge his arm with my own before he walks over to the passenger side of the car.

He looks up at me while he waits for me to unlock the car again.

Damn auto lock.

"Yeah. He's been doing it a few weeks."

We both climb into the car.

I sigh. "Linford, though? Is he out of his mind?"

"He really enjoys it. Says it's a lot of fun," he buckles, looking over at me with an all too familiar expression on his face.

Patrick is only fifteen, so he still has a baby face. And when he wants something, his eyes droop and he immediately looks innocent and helpless. I wonder if he knows and uses it on me and my parents to his advantage. That, or he's just terrible at hiding his feelings.

"What's that look for?" I raise my eyebrows at him, resting my fingers around the steering wheel.

When he doesn't say anything, I know. I know exactly what that look is for. You see, Patrick and Jack are the best of friends. They're arguably closer than me and Birdie. They tell each other everything, they spend every second together, and they like to follow in each other's footsteps, no matter how ridiculous the other one is. I think they'd jump of a bridge if the other one did— really.

So it comes as no surprise when I finally hear myself saying: "Patrick, you are not going to Linford to box with Jack. Are you crazy?"

"Well, why not? Birdie takes Jack!"