Justin Bieber. Nobody in the world didn't know who he was. He was the most famous teenager on the planet, a complete popstar teen-sensation. Haters attacked him, people respected him, his music was listened to, and girls practically worshipped the ground he walked on.
And then there was me. Naomi Rayne. The girl who nobody knew. At least, before I started dating Justin.
.....Oh.
And did I happen to mention that this relationship was completely fake? That when the curtains close, Justin and I struggle not to choke each other to death? This so-called "love" was all an act.
Justin Bieber was my fake boyfriend.
I would honestly rather date a complete jerk-filled asshole than him. Oh wait. I already am.
How exactly did I get into this mess again?