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

7

"He's such a fucking moron sometimes, I swear," Birdie angrily twists the cap off of her hairspray.

We're sitting on her bedroom floor on this Saturday afternoon in preparation for her birthday party in just a few hours. Her room smells of fake tan, hairspray, and perfume — very normal for an afternoon the two of us share.

She's still very much upset about yesterday's events. She fully blames Jack and thinks that she should punish him by pulling him out of classes.

I talk her off the ledge and tell her not to, though it's clear that she's still contemplating it.

We were lucky enough that Patrick didn't need to see our mom and dad on Friday. It has been planned for weeks that right after school, he'd be joining the Phans on their camping trip. And even more lucky— our parents hate each other and never speak. There's no way Birdie's parents would tell my parents about Patrick's black eye.

I was sure to tell him Justin's advice about icing every thirty minutes on and off to help with the bruising and swelling. He promised he would, and he said he'd tell the Phans he got into a fight at school if they asked.

We're hoping that come Monday, it isn't so noticeable. In case it is, Birdie and I have to come up with a cover story.

"They're teenage boys. It was an accident," I sigh.

"Jane, how do you accidentally punch your friend in the eye?"

I shrug, sitting down on the edge of her bed once I feel I've completed getting ready. All I need to do is put some shoes on and I'm good to go.

"I've never punched you in the eye on accident," she mutters when she realizes I'm not going to cave on her little brother.

She presses her finger down on the hairspray nozzle and in one continuous stream, she sprays what seems like every inch of her hair— and her bedroom. I'm certain she's just damaged the ozone layer by another five percent just from today.

Birdie looks pretty. Her normally pin straight black hair is in big waves that cascade down her back, just barely touching the exposed skin on her waist from her white dress. There are two cutouts on the side that stop just above her hips, and then the dress stays tight all the way down to her calves.

"Birdie, you look like J-Lo," I praise.

She turns to me, popping her hip out. "You think?"

I nod. "Yeah. You look amazing."

"I can't wait for Josh to see," she says giddily at first.

But I quickly notice her smile drop when she turns to face the mirror again. I know she puts this front on for everyone— including herself— that she's really into this guy. I never outwardly question her. I know it's best if I just offer my support, no matter what that looks like.

Standing to my feet, I look at myself in the mirror again before looking at her reflection. I offer her a kind smile— one that says I'm with her, I'm here for her, and I'll always try to understand her.

Whether she gathers that or not, I don't really know.

Birdie stays with Josh the entirety of the night, which tells me he likes how she looks, too. I'm observant in the way that his hand wraps around her small side, fingertips slightly digging into her exposed hip while they mingle with the crowd. Both of them nearly glow beneath the golden light provided by the tiki torches we spent way too long trying to light.

If I was an outsider, I might think that they're perfect for one another. I might think that they should move past any doubts they might have and just be together. I might think that they both really, genuinely like each other.