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

10

I tell Birdie about RJ training the boys, but nothing more.

Against my will, I find myself still processing his words long after he says them to me. It's not entirely what he said, it's how he said it. He sounded as if he was so disgusted that I'd allow someone give me a mediocre fuck, but he also sounded like he was testing me. Like he wanted to outdo the sex I had with Cole on Saturday.

Not to mention, I can't stop myself from racking my brain of all the things Birdie and I discussed on those bleachers over the last couple of weeks. We talked about clothes, parties, Josh, and of course Cole. But worst of all, Birdie said that I could never be with someone like him. Someone from Linford.

I'm sure that was the cause of his sudden callousness.

He doesn't strike me as a stupid man. I'm certain he knows that him and I could never be more than just a flirtatious relationship between two people. I'm certain that although he doesn't know the first thing about them, he knows that my parents would have my head if they found I was even in Linford. I can't imagine what they'd do if they found I was in some kind of relationship with a person from there.

Justin isn't stupid. He knows better.

But my head hasn't stopped spinning since that moment, since those words fell from his lips, dripping with such intentional venom. My stomach is knotted even as I lay in bed that night, staring up at my white ceiling. I replay that moment over and over, unable to wrap my brain around what his thoughts were in that moment.

I'm not sure why I care so much, anyways. I don't know Justin. I don't have any connection to him other than some surface level flirting, so it shouldn't bother me. But it does.

It claws at my insides throughout the entire night and into the morning. I don't sleep very much.

I could text him or call him to apologize or to ask him what he heard, but I don't know how appropriate that would be for our first discussion outside of the boys' practice. I don't quite know him well enough to just reach out to him like that, but for some reason he knows me well enough to provide commentary on who I've fucked.

The summer heat on this Saturday morning is borderline unbearable. I have a feeling it's a big part of why I didn't sleep, but I know there are other factors involved.

My first instinct is to stand by my bedroom window after I've pried it open, the scent of freshly cut grass there to immediately greet me a Good Morning. Birds chirp as someone weed whacks down the street, a sound that may not seem so pleasant in words, but it's delightful on the ears for someone who loves summer. A gentle morning breeze brushes dampened hair away from my sweating forehead. I close my eyes for a moment, pretending that I'm on a beach somewhere.

It's nice.

Moments of serenity don't last forever in Redlake. I'm only standing upright for a couple of short moments before I hear my mom calling from the hallway outside of my bedroom.

"Janey!" she bangs on my door twice before swiftly opening it.

I turn to her tiredly, the only forgiving part of her presence is that a gust of air swooshes towards me from the door swinging open.

As normal, Mom is dressed as if she's going to lunch with her rich friends on a yacht for the afternoon. She wears the cleanest, softest, and whitest of linens. Her strawberry blonde hair is loosely tied up in a claw clip that makes her look so effortlessly put together, her skin is littered with freckles from the sun, and her makeup is freshly applied.

Nothing less than the best for Mom.

Her face sinks when she sees me, which is normal. A subtle frown finds her lips and as she gets older, I'm starting to notice the fine lines that frequent her expression. I'd never tell her that. I know she'd hurriedly ask my dad for money so she can get Botox or filler, because that's what she does. She lives to please him.