I'm Not Sorry: A Justin Bieber Fan Fiction

One

♥ a w k w a r d n e s s ♥

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"Honey, wake up! Jenny's already downstairs, and she's waiting for you!"

Needless to say, that was followed by the most irritating shake ever, only Mom was able to do.  Groaning, I lightly pushed her hands away, feeling very annoyed. Huh, what a good emotion to kick off the day.

"So, you're implying on...?" I trailed off, flipping over to my side just to feel the coolest side of the bed. "Look, Mom. That Bieber kid's there. At the same place in the study room; first chair on the right. Just let me sleep and I'll never bother you again." I begged her, still, with my eyes closed.

If there were only three simple things I could do in my life, obviously it'll be... Let me see: Sleep, sleep, and frickin' sleep.

"One..." Mom's threatening tone sent the goosebumps on my arms to rise. "Two..." She trailed off, beginning to sound thrice as scary as she did before. "Th―"

It's as though my body had dominated my mind, and before I knew it, I'd sat up back straight; ass flat on the bed, even though I obviously knew my eyes were blood-shot red and my hair was a legit bird's nest. 

Not that I really gave two damns about that ― I didn't, don't and probably never will do, unless I get to that point where looks matter more than anything else.

"Now, that's my daughter!" Mom smirked in triumphant (because she managed to wake me up with the world's dumbest method ever) and left my room for me to get ready.

Allowing my mouth to twist into a contorted shape, I mouthed the words that rolled off her tongue mimickingly when she was walking out, and rolled my eyes a couple of seconds before I decided to slap my warm, comfortable blanket away from my body.

Walking into the bathroom, I already had a feeling in my gut that told me this day wouldn't exactly be the best in the world.

How, very nice.

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Pulling my top over my head, I took my own sweet time and strolled over to my walk-in closet to pick out a simple shirt for the day. I don't suppose I'll be going out for now, I'm in the worst mood. See, this is why I hate school days.

Mom would get to be my alarm → I would feel annoyed → I would have to school with Justin Bieber → then end the day off with an incredibly bad mood → sleep away my problems → literally hope the next day would be better.

"Aye, little lady," Justin barged into my room out of nowhere, sending me flying probably six feet into the sky. "What's up?"

Note to self: If he ever does that again, he's going to receive a kick at the place where the sun don't shine, and that gift will gladly be from me.

Straightening myself out, I spun around and sent a glare at his way with my eyebrows furrowed tightly. He wasn't grinning when he entered, but as his greedy eyes travelled down my body, he began smirking ― I don't get it.

"I spy with my pretty brown eye, a feisty princess wearing purple undergarments," he snorted, laughing, moving closer to me with each negative thought that invaded my head. I was practically naked. I was practically naked!