[Fic: RPF] Come Close, Listen to the Story (3/5)
Title/Chapter: I'm Not Gonna Waste These Words, 3/5
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Demi
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/5398
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, or Selena Gomez, and none of the portrayed events should be taken as fact. They are fiction and never actually happened. No matter how much I wish they did. Other disclaimers are at my journal. This is a RPF femslash story, meaning about real people and two girls in a romantic relationship context. If either or both of those things bother you, this is not the story for you. Rating for mentions of self-harm.
A/N: This is a reposting from my journal, where it was originally posted and from where I'm transferring all my fic. If we are friends, you can still read it here. Once again, please be honest about what you think, good or bad, or any suggestions you might have. There are some grammatical mistakes, but usually to emphasize dialogue, particularly with Miley. The story title is from the first lyric of "True Love" by Phil Wickham, and chapter titles are from "About A Girl" by The Academy Is. Huge thank you to arkeis for helping beta this thing, letscall_l for the inspiration to get off my ass and get it done, xcinamonx for introducing me to Picnik (where I made the story pictures), and everyone over at demi_selena for your encouragement and support.
Summary: Miley and Taylor work with Demi to pull off a surprise concert for Selena's seventeenth birthday while also trying to push Demi and Selena toward each other.
I'm Not In Love, 1/5
This Is Not My Heart, 2/5
Today’s just starting off wonderfully, you think as you rush into the theater, drink tray in one hand, bag in the other, and your guitar slung over your back. You overslept, grabbed Selena’s shirt because you couldn’t find yours quick enough, and waited at Starbucks for a crazy long time. The paparazzi outside didn’t help matters, either.
In the back corner of the ballroom you see Miley, quietly strumming her guitar, and Taylor, hands buried in her hoodie pockets and head hanging back over a chair, obviously trying to sleep while waiting. You laugh and, catching Miley’s eye, point at Taylor, eyes closed and apparently dead to the world. Miley winks and you both cross the short distance to Taylor. You set down your things and crawl your fingers up her forearm, while Miles yells, “Tay, there’s a spider crawlin’ up your arm!”
The reaction: priceless. She jerks up screaming in the chair. She’s mid-flail a moment later when she looks up and sees you and Miley laughing your asses off. “Oh, you guys are so dead,” Taylor screeched.
“Now, that any way to treat the person who comes bearing coffee?” You thrust her white mocha frappuccino at her, which she accepts greedily, but with a gracious smile. You give Miley her no-whip mocha frappuccino and sip your nonfat, no whip cinnamon mocha. It reminds you of the Mexican hot chocolate Mandy made on the rare winter days when ice and snow inundated the D/FW Metroplex and closed school. You and Selena learned to plan sleepovers for the night before storms to take advantage of snow days together.
You’re startled out of your memories by the vibration against your hip. Selena’s texting you, upset that you took her shirt. You fire back that she stole your AC/DC shirt to sleep in first, effectively shutting her up. She wears your clothes all the time, but watching her sleep in just boxers and your favorite t-shirt stirred everything inside you. She’s home for a couple months, finally back home, and you switched some of your California tour dates with the Cleveland ones to fit around her birthday and breaks from filming. One precious week basically living at her house, determined not to miss a single moment.
“It’s kinda pathetic that I like, know all your coffees,” you laugh. It felt strange this morning not ordering Selena’s iced caramel macchiato, but you can take it to her later this afternoon. Hell, Lena’s always up for coffee. “Okay, so let’s do this,” Miley suggests, characteristically taking charge. “I talked to Jonathan Cook yesterday, and got a confirmation. They’re playing ‘She’s a Lady’ and their remix of ‘Love Story.’ If that’s okay with you, Taylor. Trace and the guys are playing ‘Shake It’ and, of course, ‘Seventeen Forever.’ We’ve got the set list down, right?”
“Um, not quite,” Taylor breaks in. “We still didn’t work out which of my songs Demi’s gonna sing. Oh, but Forever the Sickest Kids singing the remix live will be awesome, and Lena will love it.” Crap. The only ones you relate to are super-obvious, and you kinda don’t want to go there yet. Maybe you could sing the “Love Story” remix instead? Why’d you get the brilliant idea to perform one of her songs? Oh, right, because you knew it’d mean more to Lena, that’s why. Damn.
“Well, I gotta leave for an interview at two,” Miley mentions, “so how ’bout we work on what we’ve got and y’all work it out while I’m gone?” You and Taylor both agree and all three of you get to work on the songs you’ll sing together, Miley’s remake of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” and Taylor’s song “I’m Only Me When I’m With You.” You laugh loudly at Taylor’s ridiculous Cyndi Lauper impressions and Miley’s crazy stage jumping when you and Miley run through “Party.” Things slow down a bit when you run through the acoustic “This is Me.” No way is the real version being performed live tomorrow night, since Joe’s not coming. Thank God they’re on tour, New York if you remember correctly. As much as you and Miley both want to see them, you’re so not in the mood to play keep-away with Taylor and Joe. By far the day’s most haunting moments are Miley and Taylor’s run-through of “Fifteen.” Ever since the Grammy’s it stuck with you, because it captured an incredibly difficult time both for Taylor and Miley.
Two o’clock comes before you even realize, and Miley leaves for her interview, leaving you and Taylor alone together for the first time in weeks. All past jealously aside, she’s an awesome friend, the kind that you’d call at midnight and find the first flight out for, no questions asked. But she doesn’t mince words at all. Honest to a fault, so they say.
“So why’re you wearing Selena’s t-shirt?” she smirks. “I know she loves wearing your clothes, but I think now’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in hers.”
“I-I crashed at her house this past week, and she slept in my AC/DC shirt last night, and was still asleep this morning,” you stammer, your face flushing. “Her Transformers shirt was the closest, and since I overslept...”
“She sleeps in your shirts?” Her eyebrows fly into her hairline, and you can’t help but wonder why she’s asking all this now.
“Yeah, sometimes.” She looks almost pensive, never a good thing with her. She’s like a dog with a bone sometimes, and simply can’t let it go.
But surprisingly she does, and asks, “Okay, we still need one last song, so...any ideas?” You groan, because you really don’t know which one to choose. You want Selena to see that you’re over the thing with Taylor, so doing one of her songs is perfect. You really like “Forever and Always,” but you really want one that means something for Selena, and it’s harder than you thought. You’re not exactly feeling the songs about boys.
“I don’t know, Taylor,” you sigh, slightly frustrated at your inability to relate to normal girls. She notices, and now she’s looking at you rather curiously, mixed with a sadness you don’t usually see, at least not on Taylor. Last time was after Joe’s infamous 27-second call. Needless to say, you didn’t talk for days. What an idiot. Lovable, but still.
“Demi, is everything okay?” she asks, and you hear the worry in her tone.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say with your cheesiest smile in place. Sure, it’s not as convincing as Miley’s or even Selena’s, but it usually works.
“I just worry about you, that’s all. Being in Nashville when you’re in LA, or wherever. All I hear is what’s in the latest magazines and gossip blogs, and I just...”
You cut her off once you see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to be halfway across the country worrying about your best friend. I just...I don’t know anymore.” You sigh and sit down cross-legged on the ugly carpeted floor, because you’re getting the feeling you’ll be here awhile. You decide to finally be honest. The only other person you’ve told (besides Dallas, who figured it out on her own) is Jac. She asked you outright after a concert one night during Lena’s Puerto Rico filming, and you just couldn’t lie anymore, to yourself or anyone else.
“I’ve just been dealing with some things lately,” you begin, not entirely sure how she’ll react. “Lena’s gone so much, and it’s just hard to get through day after day without her.”
“What kind of things?” she asks, then quickly backtracks. “If you’re not ready to talk, I understand. I just...I don’t want you to carry everything by yourself and crack under the pressure.” You notice how her eyes quickly dart to your wrists, and you see the broken pain there when she meets yours. The only other people that look at the scars that way are Dallas and Selena. Most just look at you with pity or disgust. Instantly you realize that you can trust her with the biggest secret of your life.
“You really wanna know why I can’t seem to pick one of your songs?” you begin, hands slightly shaking. “I can’t relate to your songs about falling in love with boys. I just can’t.”
You see a flash of recognition behind her eyes, and now you’re dying to know what she’s thinking. “Because they’re about love, or about boys?”
Wow, nothing gets past her. “The last one,” you mumble, suddenly unsure yet completely sure all at once. “I know about love, trust me. I’ve dated, like, more than you, remember? Taylor, I’m just not into guys like that. I think...no, I know, that I’m gay.”
You let the silence hang heavily in the air for a long moment before finally meeting her eyes. You expected shock and disgust, but what you find astounds you. Compassion and understanding shine in her blue eyes, and it makes them glow.
“Demi?” she breaks the silence. “Can I just--you know I love you no matter what, right? That it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy? God, I’ve been so worried about you,” she confessed, anxiety quickly fading. “All I want is to see the light in your eyes again.”
The tears finally spill over as she slides off the folding chair and onto the floor beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You don’t cry nearly as much as you expected. When you finally pull yourself together, you see the tears that have made their way down her face as well. “Taylor...” you trail off, because you honestly don’t know what to say.
“Is it okay if I ask you a couple of things?” she whispered. “Um, yeah,” you giggle slightly. She smirks in that characteristically Taylor way as she pushes back her long blonde curls.
“When did this happen? Like, when did you realize it?” She isn’t acting quite as surprised as you imagined she might. Maybe she saw this coming? Surely not.
“I think part of me always knew,” you say, instantly hating the cliche you’ve just uttered. “Like, I always knew I didn’t fit in with other girls, but Lena was just like me, so I didn’t worry about it much. I didn’t do like, the whole crushes and boys thing, but I just thought that I’d grow into it, like I did makeup and all that other stuff. She grew into that eventually, but I never really did. I relate more to songs about falling in love with girls.”
You glance up and see that she’s following every word. “But I think it was between Christmas and New Year’s with you, actually.” Her eyebrows perk up considerably now.
“I noticed myself checking out girls in Times Square, and it scared me, because it forced me to confront what I’d always suspected and feared. Selena got to go home to Texas, and I was like, really upset because we both always dreamed of being in New York on New Year’s, and it felt wrong without her. Things were awkward between me and you back then, and I knew you and Joe together meant trouble. Midnight was incredibly awkward, but you hugged me first and made me laugh. I tried so hard not to like you, but it wasn’t possible. That’s when I realized how stupid it was, and I had to face it. I cried on Kevin’s shoulder for like, an hour after.”
Taylor’s face is an interesting mix of confusion, dread and sadness. “I don’t--oh. Never mind. It’s just...I had it all wrong. That’s not your only secret, though, is it?”
“No--wait, what?” What can she possibly know that you don’t?
“I think you’re in love with Selena,” she boldly states while staring at the ugly carpet. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. We were cool until the tour, then it all went to pieces. I thought it was because of Joe, because we were dating and because of those rumors about you two with ‘Camp Rock.’ I found out later that you really didn’t care, but I still didn’t get it. But it wasn’t him at all, it was Selena. When she arrived, we hung out and you withdrew. You did for a long time, Demi. She got so scared of losing you.”
You’re crying yet again, even harder than before, because somehow she’s just laid your deepest secrets on the ugly carpet at your feet. “I just...” you sobbed, “she was such good friends with you, and you were older, so much prettier, and like, crazy talented, and I already felt her slipping away, and--” she cuts you off with a finger to your lips.
“Stop it,” she states firmly. “You’re all those things, too. You are so talented, so beautiful, and you don’t even know it. You were scared of losing her, weren’t you?” You nod, feeling completely bare and open. “That’s why you pushed me away. It’s okay, I understand. So the other thing...”
“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “Well, that night in Times Square I went with Kevin because he wanted to take me for coffee and to talk. He’d been worried about me already, then I showed up upset. I realized that I was like, jealous for no reason, something Lena accused me of for like, months. I just missed her so bad. When you hugged me, then when Kevin did later, all I could think was that I missed her touch. I craved it, everywhere, all the time. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it wasn’t normal. By the time she left for Puerto Rico I finally stopped denying what I’d felt for the past eighteen months. But I still can’t deal with everyone’s reaction. We both grew up being taught that it was wrong, and I was scared of how my family, friends, and Disney would react. I still am, honestly. I started hanging out with musicians, some gay and some not, because I couldn’t hide anymore.”
“I always wondered how you wound up friends with Jac Vanek,” she muttered in awe, almost to herself.
“Yeah,” you reply. “I like her a lot, and she’s like, really fun to hang out with. She actually asked me the night we saw The Academy Is if I was a lesbian. I didn’t tell anyone but her, but I didn’t hold back, either. I wanted to figure myself out without everyone’s expectations smothering me. I didn’t realize how far away I pulled until Selena like, flipped out after shooting the promos for ‘Princess Protection Program.’ She was so angry, but really, more hurt than anything, and eventually she like, cried in my arms for hours. I cried too, because I almost lost her, the one I wanted most, and I caused her so much pain.”
Taylor’s still got one arm around you, both of you now leaning against the wall. “I just couldn’t face it. The pain would consume me, and that can’t happen again.” You notice Taylor’s eyes leave your face and drift to the handful of jagged lines on the inside of each wrist. You see wounded blue eyes and questions behind the rapidly forming tears.
“It’s okay, I know you wanna ask,” you whisper, following her gaze to the scars. “It started right after my fourteenth birthday. Everything happened so fast. We moved to LA for good right before Disney bought the pilot for “Wizards.” Dallas left for a three month dance tour. I felt so alone, and I...I don’t know. It felt like no one cared except Selena. I’m not close with my mom the way you, Miley, and Selena are. I never had that. She loves me, but doesn’t understand me at all.”
“You think it’s the fame thing?” Taylor questioned. “I mean, her not understanding why you want to be a musician, why you chose this dream?”
“No, she was a Cowboys cheerleader,” you laugh bitterly. “and a singer. She was all about the fame. It’s because I’m not good enough for her. Dallas was girly when we were growing up and dance is her passion. Just like Mom. She loved all that crap. I did a little with Dallas, but I didn’t like it much. We grew up doing pageants when we were little, but I got into acting and music instead. I was the fat kid that locked myself in my room for hours listening to music. The only reason I even cared about any of it was to get closer to the people that would let me sing.”
Taylor smiles wryly because she recognizes everything you just said in herself. “When I first got into music, Mom was cool with it. I started writing songs and listening to like, everything. I was almost twelve, and I listened to old school metal bands and wrote dark music. She said I needed therapy; she just didn’t want to deal with my issues. She only let me listen to KLTY (the Christian station back home) and told me to try happier songs. She loved Selena because she’s always so bubbly and happy...on the outside. Dallas was the model daughter, and I knew I’d never live up. Then, I started middle school and seventh grade was the worst year of my life. Everyone picked on me because they smelt the insecurity. Selena didn’t go to my school, so I like, had no one. Mom didn’t get me or like who I was becoming. Madison turned four and started doing pageants, so it felt like Mom starting over, hoping this daughter might turn out more like Dallas. More like her.”
You wipe away the falling tears with the back of your wrists, and the irony doesn’t escape either of you. “Mom finally pulled me out and let me homeschool, but even then I still didn’t have friends. All their words kept running around in my head. Selena was my only friend, the only thing that saved me from myself, from closing in completely. We got more callbacks in the next few years, then she landed “Hannah Montana” and that’s what started it all. After Disney picked up “Wizards,” we came back to Texas for like, a vacation or something (I don’t even remember what), and I got lonely and called her. We had a weird fight on the phone, and it was finally just too much. I took a razor blade and made a cut over the bathroom sink.”
You point out one particular line, “That’s the first one. It didn’t happen again for months. Then the doubts and voices in my head got even worse, and I did it again, and it felt good to release that pain. The songs weren’t enough anymore, I needed to like, physically feel it. When I couldn’t cut, I’d let the music swallow me and bang it out on my legs until they bruised. I hid with wristbands, jelly bracelets, bangles, gloves, whatever. Selena wore that stuff, too, so no one ever like, questioned it or anything, and she wasn’t around to see it. Things got better after I started doing ‘As the Bell Rings’ and recording my demo, and it happened less. But I still have moments.”
“The last time was just before Christmas. We said goodbye and she held me for a while, and we both cried. She whispered, “I love you” in my ear, and it didn’t comfort me like usual; it just hurt even more. I had that suspicion for a while, but I kept pushing it away. But when she said it, I thought, ‘not the way I wish you did.’ It scared me so much. I cut that night, like, the biggest, deepest one ever. Then the pictures came out.”
You take a deep breath, because what you’re about to tell is what you most regret. “I felt awful. I blamed it on those gummy bracelets because I’d seen what they did to Lena’s wrists, so I knew it’d be believable. My parents and Disney believed it, and let it go. Dallas basically called me on it and I got this like, huge lecture on how I’d kill myself one day. She yelled until she burst into tears. She said she saw girls she danced with that the industry ate alive, and wouldn’t watch it happen to her little sister. She bandaged my wrists and used scar cream to help minimize the scars. Neither of us wanted Madison to ask questions. Maddie’s eight. She shouldn’t even know what this is.”
Taylor’s taking it all in, staying uncharacteristically silent. Her next question is one that, while you expect it, you still don’t want to remember, or even think about at all. “How’d Selena react?”
“Dallas threatened to tell her if I didn’t, because when the pictures leaked Lena like, blew up our phones,” you sigh. “I told Selena we’d talk when she got back, because I didn’t want her worrying about it while she was home. She came over when she got back, and instead of rushing to hug me, she stood across from me and pulled my hands up to look them over and she fell to her knees sobbing. It terrified me to see her so broken. I just held her because I didn’t know what else to say. She felt guilty for breaking down instead of being strong for me. She made me promise to make it stop, no matter how long it took. She kissed them, Taylor. Every. Single. Scar.”
Taylor’s breath caught in her throat at that point, and that same flash of recognition played behind her eyes. This time, however, you pounce on it.
“You knew.” It’s not a question, she knows. She’s slightly panicked at first, then the smile is back and you’re both disturbed and comforted that someone besides your sister knew without being told.
“Well, I suspected,” she admitted, her smile slightly sheepish now, reminding you vaguely of when you caught Noah and Madison trying to grease the handlebars of Miley’s favorite Electra. You smile in spite of yourself now, but you’ve gotta know.
“What made you suspect that?” She pauses for a minute and starts fidgeting, and you know this can’t be good. She usually doesn’t do that unless she’s uncomfortable or nervous, and you’ve probably just made her both.
“Well, I just...” she trails off, then mentions the most random thing. “I watched some of your older videos. Actually, I thought it--never mind.” Her face flushes pink, highlighting pale freckles and bright eyes. She roughly runs a hand through her curls, then stammers on. “W-well, uh, the one where you said you wanted to live in different mansions everywhere. You ruffled your hair, propped your arm on her shoulder and looked at her lips, then back to her eyes. Almost like waiting to pounce or something.”
Now you’re the one flushing red, from your neck into your hair. “Crap. Was it really that bad?” You know it must’ve been, because that’s when it was first starting, before you learned to control your reactions around her in public.
She’s biting her lip and still fidgeting, then she closes her eyes, almost like she’s working up her nerve for something. Either that or she’s trying to make up her mind about something. Probably to tell you that everyone knows and that your career is over.
“Well, yeah,” she laughs, “but it was more like...like, I noticed her reaction. The way she jumped when you did it, all flustered and trying to change the subject. The way ever since then her eyes always drift to your lips. The way she can’t get through one conversation with me without talking endlessly about you.”
The growing confidence in Taylor’s voice is lost on you as you take in her words. It’s everything you longed to hear for years, but still don’t dare allow yourself to believe. There’s no way that Selena Gomez, the sweetest and prettiest girl in the world, could feel the same. No. Way. All she has to do is laugh and band boys come running, all hoping for a shot with the adorable tomboy that’s slowly growing into a beautiful young woman.
“Demi, you’re really pale, you okay?” You nod in her direction, still in a daze. Then you look at the clock. “Crap, Taylor, it’s like, almost four. We need to finish.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Taylor stands quickly, then reaches down to help you up. You both sit back in the cushioned folding chairs you originally started out in, then pick up your guitars. “So, back on track...maybe,” she giggled. “Now, let’s pretend my songs aren’t about boys. They’re about girls, or Lena, or whatever you want them to be.”
You laugh because she’s trying so hard for you. You thought it would take a while for her to get used to thinking of you with a girl, with Selena, but surprisingly it’s a natural switch. She’s an amazing friend, and she apparently really meant it when she said all she wanted was you to be happy. “Well, I love ‘Forever and Always’,” you laugh, “and ‘Picture to Burn’. But seriously, there’s one...”
“‘Fearless’ is taken,” she jokes, “Sorry!” Um, okay? Sometimes you wonder about her.
“Why would I want that song? It’s Lena’s favorite, not mine.”
“Okay, yeah. Sorry.” Taylor’s acting really weird. But you’ve got bigger things to worry about. “Seriously, though, what is it?”
“Well, I totally can’t use it, because it has a guy’s name in it,” her eyes go wide in recognition. “It’s the one about the guy from that band Love and Theft.”
“Yeah, ‘Hey Stephen’,” she whispered. With only a moment’s notice she started to strum her custom guitar and sing the song, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Selena, particularly that last verse about waiting alone under the streetlights. Not to mention that you’d not only write a song for her, you actually did. Only one that she knows about, but really, they’re all for her, every last one, even if she’ll never know.
“Hey, play along,” she demands quietly, the mischievous glint back in her eyes. You’re jarred from your thoughts of Selena when she starts from the beginning. You pick up the chord progression fairly quickly, and by the third verse you’re both playing perfectly together. After she finishes the second time through, she asks if you remember all the words. Well, if you didn’t before, they’re burned into your brain now.
“Good. Now sing it like you would if you were singing it here for her,” she states, and you still see that glint slowly getting lost in the icy blue eyes.
“What?!” You sputter, unable to believe what she’s asking of you. “This isn’t a game, Taylor. I can’t do that.” Taylor’s looking at you like you’ve lost your mind, and you’re pretty sure you have. You never meant it that way. “Taylor--”
“Just do it,” she mutters, and the wounded expression gives her away, but you still think she’s playing with you. You do exactly as she asks, working with the lyrics and adding a few other little things. It felt really good, and when you finish, Taylor looks at you in awe.
“That’s the song you need to sing tomorrow, Demi.” You look at her skeptically.
“Yes, because I need to come out and admit that I love my best friend with a song written by our close friend in front of like, a hundred of our other mutual friends,” you ramble hysterically. “Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?!”
“Think what’s ridiculous?” a different voice, one that you’d recognize anywhere, asks from a good distance behind you. After all, you didn’t heard it all your life for nothing.
“Dallas, how are you?” Taylor squeals. You roll your eyes slightly at them both while she and Dallas share a quick hug. When they get going, they love to talk boys and fashion and all that other crap. Like normal girls, the voice in your head nags. Eww, whatev.
“I’m good, Demi, how are you, since I haven’t seen you in like, years.” You shoot her a warning glance before giving her a hug. “So what, you come back and move in with your girl? That’s awesome...I love you too. What the hell were you two laughing about, Dem? I could hear you all the way over there.” Dallas playfully nags, grinning like mad. Taylor’s eyes go wide and you smack Dallas on the arm to make her shut the hell up.
“Real funny, Dallas. We’re working on one last song for Lena’s party tomorrow. Speaking of which,” you wonder, “how are you planning to get her there?”
“Well, I’ll just tell her that I’m picking her up and that you’re just meeting us there,” Dallas smirks. “It’ll work, trust me. So, um, where you staying tonight? Still with Selena, or at home?”
“Well, me and her and Taylor are all going to stay at Miley’s house and hang out. Taylor’s staying there mainly, since she wasn’t supposed to get here until tonight, so Selena thinks.” The whole plan’s kinda elaborate. Taylor got in yesterday and stayed overnight with Miley, then rehearsed all day and you’re planning a birthday sleepover at Miley’s house tonight. It’ll be easier to come and go unnoticed from there, since there’s always so many people around, plus you only live a block away. Taylor will take her to lunch tomorrow, then bring her back to get dressed for a nice dinner out with you and your family (supposedly). Dallas will pick her up and tell her...something or other, so they’re gonna meet you there. When she gets there...well, that’s when the magic happens. Wow, so apparently you’ve been around Taylor too long already.
“So what are you doing here?” you bluntly ask Dallas, because you were supposed to be here until five, and it’s only 4:30. “Taking you to Miley’s, remember?” You forgot that Dallas decided to chauffeur you around LA today, what with your mind a bit preoccupied and all. “You’re supposed to be there at six and we still need to pick up Sel.”
Crap, you forgot all about that. You rented a huge popcorn machine and they’re delivering it to Miley’s around six tonight. “C’mon, let’s go,” you say as you start packing up your guitar and throwing away the Starbucks and McDonald’s bags from earlier. You grab Taylor by the arm, “After Miles and Lena go to sleep, we’ll practice more. No way was this enough.” She nods and packs up her own guitar, following Dallas to the car and chattering about what they’re wearing tomorrow night. Crap, another thing to do for tomorrow. It’s cool, though, because you’ll get Miley to help you pick something out. Between your closet and hers, you’re bound to find something.
The mass-scale sleepover tonight will be fun, for sure, and you’re honestly looking forward to it as you climb into the car behind Taylor. Miley’s house has plenty of space for everyone to sprawl out. They need it, with five kids. Miley’s guest room is connected to her bedroom by her bathroom, and that’s where you’ll stay. Taylor will share with Miley and you’ll be with Selena. It’ll be nice to be close to the other girls but still be able to hold Selena without weird looks. You’ve all stayed in one room before, though, when everyone was too tired to move. Taylor and Miley both toss and turn a lot, so they always wake up weird. You’ve found them either sprawled across each other or falling off their opposite sides of the bed more than once. But they’ve also found you holding Selena in your sleep more times than you care to remember, so it’s a fair trade.
The mixture of hope and fear coursing through you at the possibility of Lena loving you makes you simultaneously giddy and nauseous. You lose yourself for a while in the whirling lights of LA traffic, and the promise that, regardless of everything else--whether she loves you the way you’ve always wanted or not--you’ll at least have tonight.
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Demi
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/5398
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, or Selena Gomez, and none of the portrayed events should be taken as fact. They are fiction and never actually happened. No matter how much I wish they did. Other disclaimers are at my journal. This is a RPF femslash story, meaning about real people and two girls in a romantic relationship context. If either or both of those things bother you, this is not the story for you. Rating for mentions of self-harm.
A/N: This is a reposting from my journal, where it was originally posted and from where I'm transferring all my fic. If we are friends, you can still read it here. Once again, please be honest about what you think, good or bad, or any suggestions you might have. There are some grammatical mistakes, but usually to emphasize dialogue, particularly with Miley. The story title is from the first lyric of "True Love" by Phil Wickham, and chapter titles are from "About A Girl" by The Academy Is. Huge thank you to arkeis for helping beta this thing, letscall_l for the inspiration to get off my ass and get it done, xcinamonx for introducing me to Picnik (where I made the story pictures), and everyone over at demi_selena for your encouragement and support.
Summary: Miley and Taylor work with Demi to pull off a surprise concert for Selena's seventeenth birthday while also trying to push Demi and Selena toward each other.
I'm Not In Love, 1/5
This Is Not My Heart, 2/5
Today’s just starting off wonderfully, you think as you rush into the theater, drink tray in one hand, bag in the other, and your guitar slung over your back. You overslept, grabbed Selena’s shirt because you couldn’t find yours quick enough, and waited at Starbucks for a crazy long time. The paparazzi outside didn’t help matters, either.
In the back corner of the ballroom you see Miley, quietly strumming her guitar, and Taylor, hands buried in her hoodie pockets and head hanging back over a chair, obviously trying to sleep while waiting. You laugh and, catching Miley’s eye, point at Taylor, eyes closed and apparently dead to the world. Miley winks and you both cross the short distance to Taylor. You set down your things and crawl your fingers up her forearm, while Miles yells, “Tay, there’s a spider crawlin’ up your arm!”
The reaction: priceless. She jerks up screaming in the chair. She’s mid-flail a moment later when she looks up and sees you and Miley laughing your asses off. “Oh, you guys are so dead,” Taylor screeched.
“Now, that any way to treat the person who comes bearing coffee?” You thrust her white mocha frappuccino at her, which she accepts greedily, but with a gracious smile. You give Miley her no-whip mocha frappuccino and sip your nonfat, no whip cinnamon mocha. It reminds you of the Mexican hot chocolate Mandy made on the rare winter days when ice and snow inundated the D/FW Metroplex and closed school. You and Selena learned to plan sleepovers for the night before storms to take advantage of snow days together.
You’re startled out of your memories by the vibration against your hip. Selena’s texting you, upset that you took her shirt. You fire back that she stole your AC/DC shirt to sleep in first, effectively shutting her up. She wears your clothes all the time, but watching her sleep in just boxers and your favorite t-shirt stirred everything inside you. She’s home for a couple months, finally back home, and you switched some of your California tour dates with the Cleveland ones to fit around her birthday and breaks from filming. One precious week basically living at her house, determined not to miss a single moment.
“It’s kinda pathetic that I like, know all your coffees,” you laugh. It felt strange this morning not ordering Selena’s iced caramel macchiato, but you can take it to her later this afternoon. Hell, Lena’s always up for coffee. “Okay, so let’s do this,” Miley suggests, characteristically taking charge. “I talked to Jonathan Cook yesterday, and got a confirmation. They’re playing ‘She’s a Lady’ and their remix of ‘Love Story.’ If that’s okay with you, Taylor. Trace and the guys are playing ‘Shake It’ and, of course, ‘Seventeen Forever.’ We’ve got the set list down, right?”
“Um, not quite,” Taylor breaks in. “We still didn’t work out which of my songs Demi’s gonna sing. Oh, but Forever the Sickest Kids singing the remix live will be awesome, and Lena will love it.” Crap. The only ones you relate to are super-obvious, and you kinda don’t want to go there yet. Maybe you could sing the “Love Story” remix instead? Why’d you get the brilliant idea to perform one of her songs? Oh, right, because you knew it’d mean more to Lena, that’s why. Damn.
“Well, I gotta leave for an interview at two,” Miley mentions, “so how ’bout we work on what we’ve got and y’all work it out while I’m gone?” You and Taylor both agree and all three of you get to work on the songs you’ll sing together, Miley’s remake of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” and Taylor’s song “I’m Only Me When I’m With You.” You laugh loudly at Taylor’s ridiculous Cyndi Lauper impressions and Miley’s crazy stage jumping when you and Miley run through “Party.” Things slow down a bit when you run through the acoustic “This is Me.” No way is the real version being performed live tomorrow night, since Joe’s not coming. Thank God they’re on tour, New York if you remember correctly. As much as you and Miley both want to see them, you’re so not in the mood to play keep-away with Taylor and Joe. By far the day’s most haunting moments are Miley and Taylor’s run-through of “Fifteen.” Ever since the Grammy’s it stuck with you, because it captured an incredibly difficult time both for Taylor and Miley.
Two o’clock comes before you even realize, and Miley leaves for her interview, leaving you and Taylor alone together for the first time in weeks. All past jealously aside, she’s an awesome friend, the kind that you’d call at midnight and find the first flight out for, no questions asked. But she doesn’t mince words at all. Honest to a fault, so they say.
“So why’re you wearing Selena’s t-shirt?” she smirks. “I know she loves wearing your clothes, but I think now’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in hers.”
“I-I crashed at her house this past week, and she slept in my AC/DC shirt last night, and was still asleep this morning,” you stammer, your face flushing. “Her Transformers shirt was the closest, and since I overslept...”
“She sleeps in your shirts?” Her eyebrows fly into her hairline, and you can’t help but wonder why she’s asking all this now.
“Yeah, sometimes.” She looks almost pensive, never a good thing with her. She’s like a dog with a bone sometimes, and simply can’t let it go.
But surprisingly she does, and asks, “Okay, we still need one last song, so...any ideas?” You groan, because you really don’t know which one to choose. You want Selena to see that you’re over the thing with Taylor, so doing one of her songs is perfect. You really like “Forever and Always,” but you really want one that means something for Selena, and it’s harder than you thought. You’re not exactly feeling the songs about boys.
“I don’t know, Taylor,” you sigh, slightly frustrated at your inability to relate to normal girls. She notices, and now she’s looking at you rather curiously, mixed with a sadness you don’t usually see, at least not on Taylor. Last time was after Joe’s infamous 27-second call. Needless to say, you didn’t talk for days. What an idiot. Lovable, but still.
“Demi, is everything okay?” she asks, and you hear the worry in her tone.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say with your cheesiest smile in place. Sure, it’s not as convincing as Miley’s or even Selena’s, but it usually works.
“I just worry about you, that’s all. Being in Nashville when you’re in LA, or wherever. All I hear is what’s in the latest magazines and gossip blogs, and I just...”
You cut her off once you see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to be halfway across the country worrying about your best friend. I just...I don’t know anymore.” You sigh and sit down cross-legged on the ugly carpeted floor, because you’re getting the feeling you’ll be here awhile. You decide to finally be honest. The only other person you’ve told (besides Dallas, who figured it out on her own) is Jac. She asked you outright after a concert one night during Lena’s Puerto Rico filming, and you just couldn’t lie anymore, to yourself or anyone else.
“I’ve just been dealing with some things lately,” you begin, not entirely sure how she’ll react. “Lena’s gone so much, and it’s just hard to get through day after day without her.”
“What kind of things?” she asks, then quickly backtracks. “If you’re not ready to talk, I understand. I just...I don’t want you to carry everything by yourself and crack under the pressure.” You notice how her eyes quickly dart to your wrists, and you see the broken pain there when she meets yours. The only other people that look at the scars that way are Dallas and Selena. Most just look at you with pity or disgust. Instantly you realize that you can trust her with the biggest secret of your life.
“You really wanna know why I can’t seem to pick one of your songs?” you begin, hands slightly shaking. “I can’t relate to your songs about falling in love with boys. I just can’t.”
You see a flash of recognition behind her eyes, and now you’re dying to know what she’s thinking. “Because they’re about love, or about boys?”
Wow, nothing gets past her. “The last one,” you mumble, suddenly unsure yet completely sure all at once. “I know about love, trust me. I’ve dated, like, more than you, remember? Taylor, I’m just not into guys like that. I think...no, I know, that I’m gay.”
You let the silence hang heavily in the air for a long moment before finally meeting her eyes. You expected shock and disgust, but what you find astounds you. Compassion and understanding shine in her blue eyes, and it makes them glow.
“Demi?” she breaks the silence. “Can I just--you know I love you no matter what, right? That it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy? God, I’ve been so worried about you,” she confessed, anxiety quickly fading. “All I want is to see the light in your eyes again.”
The tears finally spill over as she slides off the folding chair and onto the floor beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You don’t cry nearly as much as you expected. When you finally pull yourself together, you see the tears that have made their way down her face as well. “Taylor...” you trail off, because you honestly don’t know what to say.
“Is it okay if I ask you a couple of things?” she whispered. “Um, yeah,” you giggle slightly. She smirks in that characteristically Taylor way as she pushes back her long blonde curls.
“When did this happen? Like, when did you realize it?” She isn’t acting quite as surprised as you imagined she might. Maybe she saw this coming? Surely not.
“I think part of me always knew,” you say, instantly hating the cliche you’ve just uttered. “Like, I always knew I didn’t fit in with other girls, but Lena was just like me, so I didn’t worry about it much. I didn’t do like, the whole crushes and boys thing, but I just thought that I’d grow into it, like I did makeup and all that other stuff. She grew into that eventually, but I never really did. I relate more to songs about falling in love with girls.”
You glance up and see that she’s following every word. “But I think it was between Christmas and New Year’s with you, actually.” Her eyebrows perk up considerably now.
“I noticed myself checking out girls in Times Square, and it scared me, because it forced me to confront what I’d always suspected and feared. Selena got to go home to Texas, and I was like, really upset because we both always dreamed of being in New York on New Year’s, and it felt wrong without her. Things were awkward between me and you back then, and I knew you and Joe together meant trouble. Midnight was incredibly awkward, but you hugged me first and made me laugh. I tried so hard not to like you, but it wasn’t possible. That’s when I realized how stupid it was, and I had to face it. I cried on Kevin’s shoulder for like, an hour after.”
Taylor’s face is an interesting mix of confusion, dread and sadness. “I don’t--oh. Never mind. It’s just...I had it all wrong. That’s not your only secret, though, is it?”
“No--wait, what?” What can she possibly know that you don’t?
“I think you’re in love with Selena,” she boldly states while staring at the ugly carpet. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. We were cool until the tour, then it all went to pieces. I thought it was because of Joe, because we were dating and because of those rumors about you two with ‘Camp Rock.’ I found out later that you really didn’t care, but I still didn’t get it. But it wasn’t him at all, it was Selena. When she arrived, we hung out and you withdrew. You did for a long time, Demi. She got so scared of losing you.”
You’re crying yet again, even harder than before, because somehow she’s just laid your deepest secrets on the ugly carpet at your feet. “I just...” you sobbed, “she was such good friends with you, and you were older, so much prettier, and like, crazy talented, and I already felt her slipping away, and--” she cuts you off with a finger to your lips.
“Stop it,” she states firmly. “You’re all those things, too. You are so talented, so beautiful, and you don’t even know it. You were scared of losing her, weren’t you?” You nod, feeling completely bare and open. “That’s why you pushed me away. It’s okay, I understand. So the other thing...”
“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “Well, that night in Times Square I went with Kevin because he wanted to take me for coffee and to talk. He’d been worried about me already, then I showed up upset. I realized that I was like, jealous for no reason, something Lena accused me of for like, months. I just missed her so bad. When you hugged me, then when Kevin did later, all I could think was that I missed her touch. I craved it, everywhere, all the time. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it wasn’t normal. By the time she left for Puerto Rico I finally stopped denying what I’d felt for the past eighteen months. But I still can’t deal with everyone’s reaction. We both grew up being taught that it was wrong, and I was scared of how my family, friends, and Disney would react. I still am, honestly. I started hanging out with musicians, some gay and some not, because I couldn’t hide anymore.”
“I always wondered how you wound up friends with Jac Vanek,” she muttered in awe, almost to herself.
“Yeah,” you reply. “I like her a lot, and she’s like, really fun to hang out with. She actually asked me the night we saw The Academy Is if I was a lesbian. I didn’t tell anyone but her, but I didn’t hold back, either. I wanted to figure myself out without everyone’s expectations smothering me. I didn’t realize how far away I pulled until Selena like, flipped out after shooting the promos for ‘Princess Protection Program.’ She was so angry, but really, more hurt than anything, and eventually she like, cried in my arms for hours. I cried too, because I almost lost her, the one I wanted most, and I caused her so much pain.”
Taylor’s still got one arm around you, both of you now leaning against the wall. “I just couldn’t face it. The pain would consume me, and that can’t happen again.” You notice Taylor’s eyes leave your face and drift to the handful of jagged lines on the inside of each wrist. You see wounded blue eyes and questions behind the rapidly forming tears.
“It’s okay, I know you wanna ask,” you whisper, following her gaze to the scars. “It started right after my fourteenth birthday. Everything happened so fast. We moved to LA for good right before Disney bought the pilot for “Wizards.” Dallas left for a three month dance tour. I felt so alone, and I...I don’t know. It felt like no one cared except Selena. I’m not close with my mom the way you, Miley, and Selena are. I never had that. She loves me, but doesn’t understand me at all.”
“You think it’s the fame thing?” Taylor questioned. “I mean, her not understanding why you want to be a musician, why you chose this dream?”
“No, she was a Cowboys cheerleader,” you laugh bitterly. “and a singer. She was all about the fame. It’s because I’m not good enough for her. Dallas was girly when we were growing up and dance is her passion. Just like Mom. She loved all that crap. I did a little with Dallas, but I didn’t like it much. We grew up doing pageants when we were little, but I got into acting and music instead. I was the fat kid that locked myself in my room for hours listening to music. The only reason I even cared about any of it was to get closer to the people that would let me sing.”
Taylor smiles wryly because she recognizes everything you just said in herself. “When I first got into music, Mom was cool with it. I started writing songs and listening to like, everything. I was almost twelve, and I listened to old school metal bands and wrote dark music. She said I needed therapy; she just didn’t want to deal with my issues. She only let me listen to KLTY (the Christian station back home) and told me to try happier songs. She loved Selena because she’s always so bubbly and happy...on the outside. Dallas was the model daughter, and I knew I’d never live up. Then, I started middle school and seventh grade was the worst year of my life. Everyone picked on me because they smelt the insecurity. Selena didn’t go to my school, so I like, had no one. Mom didn’t get me or like who I was becoming. Madison turned four and started doing pageants, so it felt like Mom starting over, hoping this daughter might turn out more like Dallas. More like her.”
You wipe away the falling tears with the back of your wrists, and the irony doesn’t escape either of you. “Mom finally pulled me out and let me homeschool, but even then I still didn’t have friends. All their words kept running around in my head. Selena was my only friend, the only thing that saved me from myself, from closing in completely. We got more callbacks in the next few years, then she landed “Hannah Montana” and that’s what started it all. After Disney picked up “Wizards,” we came back to Texas for like, a vacation or something (I don’t even remember what), and I got lonely and called her. We had a weird fight on the phone, and it was finally just too much. I took a razor blade and made a cut over the bathroom sink.”
You point out one particular line, “That’s the first one. It didn’t happen again for months. Then the doubts and voices in my head got even worse, and I did it again, and it felt good to release that pain. The songs weren’t enough anymore, I needed to like, physically feel it. When I couldn’t cut, I’d let the music swallow me and bang it out on my legs until they bruised. I hid with wristbands, jelly bracelets, bangles, gloves, whatever. Selena wore that stuff, too, so no one ever like, questioned it or anything, and she wasn’t around to see it. Things got better after I started doing ‘As the Bell Rings’ and recording my demo, and it happened less. But I still have moments.”
“The last time was just before Christmas. We said goodbye and she held me for a while, and we both cried. She whispered, “I love you” in my ear, and it didn’t comfort me like usual; it just hurt even more. I had that suspicion for a while, but I kept pushing it away. But when she said it, I thought, ‘not the way I wish you did.’ It scared me so much. I cut that night, like, the biggest, deepest one ever. Then the pictures came out.”
You take a deep breath, because what you’re about to tell is what you most regret. “I felt awful. I blamed it on those gummy bracelets because I’d seen what they did to Lena’s wrists, so I knew it’d be believable. My parents and Disney believed it, and let it go. Dallas basically called me on it and I got this like, huge lecture on how I’d kill myself one day. She yelled until she burst into tears. She said she saw girls she danced with that the industry ate alive, and wouldn’t watch it happen to her little sister. She bandaged my wrists and used scar cream to help minimize the scars. Neither of us wanted Madison to ask questions. Maddie’s eight. She shouldn’t even know what this is.”
Taylor’s taking it all in, staying uncharacteristically silent. Her next question is one that, while you expect it, you still don’t want to remember, or even think about at all. “How’d Selena react?”
“Dallas threatened to tell her if I didn’t, because when the pictures leaked Lena like, blew up our phones,” you sigh. “I told Selena we’d talk when she got back, because I didn’t want her worrying about it while she was home. She came over when she got back, and instead of rushing to hug me, she stood across from me and pulled my hands up to look them over and she fell to her knees sobbing. It terrified me to see her so broken. I just held her because I didn’t know what else to say. She felt guilty for breaking down instead of being strong for me. She made me promise to make it stop, no matter how long it took. She kissed them, Taylor. Every. Single. Scar.”
Taylor’s breath caught in her throat at that point, and that same flash of recognition played behind her eyes. This time, however, you pounce on it.
“You knew.” It’s not a question, she knows. She’s slightly panicked at first, then the smile is back and you’re both disturbed and comforted that someone besides your sister knew without being told.
“Well, I suspected,” she admitted, her smile slightly sheepish now, reminding you vaguely of when you caught Noah and Madison trying to grease the handlebars of Miley’s favorite Electra. You smile in spite of yourself now, but you’ve gotta know.
“What made you suspect that?” She pauses for a minute and starts fidgeting, and you know this can’t be good. She usually doesn’t do that unless she’s uncomfortable or nervous, and you’ve probably just made her both.
“Well, I just...” she trails off, then mentions the most random thing. “I watched some of your older videos. Actually, I thought it--never mind.” Her face flushes pink, highlighting pale freckles and bright eyes. She roughly runs a hand through her curls, then stammers on. “W-well, uh, the one where you said you wanted to live in different mansions everywhere. You ruffled your hair, propped your arm on her shoulder and looked at her lips, then back to her eyes. Almost like waiting to pounce or something.”
Now you’re the one flushing red, from your neck into your hair. “Crap. Was it really that bad?” You know it must’ve been, because that’s when it was first starting, before you learned to control your reactions around her in public.
She’s biting her lip and still fidgeting, then she closes her eyes, almost like she’s working up her nerve for something. Either that or she’s trying to make up her mind about something. Probably to tell you that everyone knows and that your career is over.
“Well, yeah,” she laughs, “but it was more like...like, I noticed her reaction. The way she jumped when you did it, all flustered and trying to change the subject. The way ever since then her eyes always drift to your lips. The way she can’t get through one conversation with me without talking endlessly about you.”
The growing confidence in Taylor’s voice is lost on you as you take in her words. It’s everything you longed to hear for years, but still don’t dare allow yourself to believe. There’s no way that Selena Gomez, the sweetest and prettiest girl in the world, could feel the same. No. Way. All she has to do is laugh and band boys come running, all hoping for a shot with the adorable tomboy that’s slowly growing into a beautiful young woman.
“Demi, you’re really pale, you okay?” You nod in her direction, still in a daze. Then you look at the clock. “Crap, Taylor, it’s like, almost four. We need to finish.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Taylor stands quickly, then reaches down to help you up. You both sit back in the cushioned folding chairs you originally started out in, then pick up your guitars. “So, back on track...maybe,” she giggled. “Now, let’s pretend my songs aren’t about boys. They’re about girls, or Lena, or whatever you want them to be.”
You laugh because she’s trying so hard for you. You thought it would take a while for her to get used to thinking of you with a girl, with Selena, but surprisingly it’s a natural switch. She’s an amazing friend, and she apparently really meant it when she said all she wanted was you to be happy. “Well, I love ‘Forever and Always’,” you laugh, “and ‘Picture to Burn’. But seriously, there’s one...”
“‘Fearless’ is taken,” she jokes, “Sorry!” Um, okay? Sometimes you wonder about her.
“Why would I want that song? It’s Lena’s favorite, not mine.”
“Okay, yeah. Sorry.” Taylor’s acting really weird. But you’ve got bigger things to worry about. “Seriously, though, what is it?”
“Well, I totally can’t use it, because it has a guy’s name in it,” her eyes go wide in recognition. “It’s the one about the guy from that band Love and Theft.”
“Yeah, ‘Hey Stephen’,” she whispered. With only a moment’s notice she started to strum her custom guitar and sing the song, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Selena, particularly that last verse about waiting alone under the streetlights. Not to mention that you’d not only write a song for her, you actually did. Only one that she knows about, but really, they’re all for her, every last one, even if she’ll never know.
“Hey, play along,” she demands quietly, the mischievous glint back in her eyes. You’re jarred from your thoughts of Selena when she starts from the beginning. You pick up the chord progression fairly quickly, and by the third verse you’re both playing perfectly together. After she finishes the second time through, she asks if you remember all the words. Well, if you didn’t before, they’re burned into your brain now.
“Good. Now sing it like you would if you were singing it here for her,” she states, and you still see that glint slowly getting lost in the icy blue eyes.
“What?!” You sputter, unable to believe what she’s asking of you. “This isn’t a game, Taylor. I can’t do that.” Taylor’s looking at you like you’ve lost your mind, and you’re pretty sure you have. You never meant it that way. “Taylor--”
“Just do it,” she mutters, and the wounded expression gives her away, but you still think she’s playing with you. You do exactly as she asks, working with the lyrics and adding a few other little things. It felt really good, and when you finish, Taylor looks at you in awe.
“That’s the song you need to sing tomorrow, Demi.” You look at her skeptically.
“Yes, because I need to come out and admit that I love my best friend with a song written by our close friend in front of like, a hundred of our other mutual friends,” you ramble hysterically. “Don’t you see how ridiculous that is?!”
“Think what’s ridiculous?” a different voice, one that you’d recognize anywhere, asks from a good distance behind you. After all, you didn’t heard it all your life for nothing.
“Dallas, how are you?” Taylor squeals. You roll your eyes slightly at them both while she and Dallas share a quick hug. When they get going, they love to talk boys and fashion and all that other crap. Like normal girls, the voice in your head nags. Eww, whatev.
“I’m good, Demi, how are you, since I haven’t seen you in like, years.” You shoot her a warning glance before giving her a hug. “So what, you come back and move in with your girl? That’s awesome...I love you too. What the hell were you two laughing about, Dem? I could hear you all the way over there.” Dallas playfully nags, grinning like mad. Taylor’s eyes go wide and you smack Dallas on the arm to make her shut the hell up.
“Real funny, Dallas. We’re working on one last song for Lena’s party tomorrow. Speaking of which,” you wonder, “how are you planning to get her there?”
“Well, I’ll just tell her that I’m picking her up and that you’re just meeting us there,” Dallas smirks. “It’ll work, trust me. So, um, where you staying tonight? Still with Selena, or at home?”
“Well, me and her and Taylor are all going to stay at Miley’s house and hang out. Taylor’s staying there mainly, since she wasn’t supposed to get here until tonight, so Selena thinks.” The whole plan’s kinda elaborate. Taylor got in yesterday and stayed overnight with Miley, then rehearsed all day and you’re planning a birthday sleepover at Miley’s house tonight. It’ll be easier to come and go unnoticed from there, since there’s always so many people around, plus you only live a block away. Taylor will take her to lunch tomorrow, then bring her back to get dressed for a nice dinner out with you and your family (supposedly). Dallas will pick her up and tell her...something or other, so they’re gonna meet you there. When she gets there...well, that’s when the magic happens. Wow, so apparently you’ve been around Taylor too long already.
“So what are you doing here?” you bluntly ask Dallas, because you were supposed to be here until five, and it’s only 4:30. “Taking you to Miley’s, remember?” You forgot that Dallas decided to chauffeur you around LA today, what with your mind a bit preoccupied and all. “You’re supposed to be there at six and we still need to pick up Sel.”
Crap, you forgot all about that. You rented a huge popcorn machine and they’re delivering it to Miley’s around six tonight. “C’mon, let’s go,” you say as you start packing up your guitar and throwing away the Starbucks and McDonald’s bags from earlier. You grab Taylor by the arm, “After Miles and Lena go to sleep, we’ll practice more. No way was this enough.” She nods and packs up her own guitar, following Dallas to the car and chattering about what they’re wearing tomorrow night. Crap, another thing to do for tomorrow. It’s cool, though, because you’ll get Miley to help you pick something out. Between your closet and hers, you’re bound to find something.
The mass-scale sleepover tonight will be fun, for sure, and you’re honestly looking forward to it as you climb into the car behind Taylor. Miley’s house has plenty of space for everyone to sprawl out. They need it, with five kids. Miley’s guest room is connected to her bedroom by her bathroom, and that’s where you’ll stay. Taylor will share with Miley and you’ll be with Selena. It’ll be nice to be close to the other girls but still be able to hold Selena without weird looks. You’ve all stayed in one room before, though, when everyone was too tired to move. Taylor and Miley both toss and turn a lot, so they always wake up weird. You’ve found them either sprawled across each other or falling off their opposite sides of the bed more than once. But they’ve also found you holding Selena in your sleep more times than you care to remember, so it’s a fair trade.
The mixture of hope and fear coursing through you at the possibility of Lena loving you makes you simultaneously giddy and nauseous. You lose yourself for a while in the whirling lights of LA traffic, and the promise that, regardless of everything else--whether she loves you the way you’ve always wanted or not--you’ll at least have tonight.