[Fic: RPF] Come Close, Listen to the Story (1/5)
Title/Chapter: I'm Not In Love, 1/5
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Demi, then Selena
Rating/Word Count: PG/2742
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Demi Lovato or Selena Gomez (they own themselves and each other), 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.
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, then you can still read it here. This is my first multi-chaptered fic, so please be honest. 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.
It’s only when the teen magazines start asking about Valentine’s Day does it occur to you that you and Selena share a different relationship than other best friends. Sure, you always knew you were closer than most other best friends, and more obviously affectionate. But when they ask about your favorite Valentine’s memory, you instantly think of the night two years ago that Selena came over for your dad’s birthday, fresh from filming the pilot episode of “Wizards of Waverly Place.” You’d both flown home to Texas for some needed time off, and this night would be the first of two months with her alone, no interruptions.
After blowing out the candles on the cookie cake, Selena pulled several Valentine’s cards from her backpack, and a stack of roses and balloons that she’d hidden behind the couch. She gave everyone a card: you, Mom, Dallas, even Madison. Each of you got a balloon (she picked out the red one with black lightning bolts and jagged hearts with “Have a rockin’ Valentine’s!” written on it just for you), and a single red rose. Mom nearly cried, and Dallas hugged her with a raised eyebrow, impressed in that aloof way you usually hate but still secretly admire. After the family celebration, Mom and Dad went to Mi Cocina in neighboring Southlake, and Dallas and Madison went with them. Dallas took Madison around Southlake Town Square for a special Valentine’s evening, leaving you home alone with Selena. She pulled out “The Notebook” from her bag with a big goofy grin, and you raced each other to your bedroom down the hall.
Once you made it to your room, you skidded to a halt when you saw everything on your desk. A tub of cookie dough ice cream, a dozen black-tinged red carnations, red leather half-gloves, and a star-shaped box of candies in every color imaginable from that new candy boutique in the Neiman’s at NorthPark, Dylan’s Candy Bar. You squealed and pulled Selena into your arms, catching a whiff of her honeysuckle scented body wash as you held her and whispered, “thank you,” in her ear. She just smiled and held you even tighter, and you wondered if life got any better than this. After the movie, you gave Selena her Valentine’s present (a massive jar of pickles, a box of chocolates, and a new pair of customized green and black Converse), and put in your new Paramore CD. You spent the rest of the night laying in bed on your stomachs, flipping through magazines and picking out dresses for your upcoming quinceneras.
Nothing compared to that Valentine’s Day, fourteen and on the cusp of everything you both ever dreamed of. Last year you spent Valentine’s Day apart, wrapping up production on “Camp Rock” and Selena working twelve-hour days on “Wizards of Waverly Place.” You felt so miserable and lonely, and the only memorable thing was the foil Valentine from Dallas with your own face staring back at you, from the early merchandising of “Camp Rock.” This year, likewise, you’ll spend February 14th apart, with Selena again on set and you now working the twelve-hour days on “Sonny With a Chance” with Tiffany, a really sweet girl, but not the girl you want.
You sit feeling miserable and alone and lose all track of thought. The interviewer pulls you back into reality by repeating the next question three times. Even though you both live here in LA now, it seems like you never see Selena. You talk and text all the time, but haven’t made a video in forever. You wish for nothing more than to return to Puerto Rico, filming together, just being together. You ache for her touch in a way that you’ve never fully understood, even though you’ve felt it for years. Now, too many things and people stand in the way. You’re feeling optimistic, though, because she’s yours all weekend long.
Selena’s more charming, and makes friends easier than you, so it didn’t surprise you when she started making other good friends in LA and around Disney, Taylor Swift the closest of them, and you didn’t stand a chance compared to her. She’s nineteen, for one thing, not quite three years older than you. Her music tastes match Selena’s own better than yours do, and she’s so crazy successful. You actually got sick of hearing “Love Story” every time you turned on the radio. Young girls idolize Taylor, and relate better to Taylor’s music than to yours. Every time you tried to hate her, though, she did something awesome, like perform live in the rain at the ACM’s, or edit and produce her own music video, or invite only you to an LA Kings game, or perform sleeveless in the frigid cold. Hours later she hugged you first at midnight in Times Square on New Year’s.
You actually started to consider Taylor a good friend that cold December night. You smirked when she took the stage and immediately launched into “Picture to Burn,” then dropped your jaw in shock when she took off her coat just before singing part of “Forever and Always.” Your sidelong glance backstage displayed Joe’s slightly pale face while Kevin yelled at him for causing this. While you’re close and know it’s complicated, you also know that the Joe that broke up with Taylor during a 27-second call is not the same sarcastic goofball you remembered from “Camp Rock.” You dreaded the midnight countdown with Ryan, for more reasons than one, and sure enough, the awkward tension hung heavy in the air. When the ball dropped, you looked at the boys, then met Taylor’s eyes just as she pulled you into a hug. Taylor whispered a few words of encouragement, then, “Too bad Miley and Selena aren’t here, then we’d really see them squirm.” You laughed and moved to hug Kevin, needing the comfort after the reminder that you were away from Selena yet again.
You finally get the chance to be together again at Jen Stone’s birthday party. You dance together nearly every dance, and like always, having her in your arms makes everything okay again, even if it sets your skin aflame. She’s so beautiful in her black dress and heels, which she kicks off halfway through the evening so she can dance uninhibited for hours. Her red lips give her an absolutely stunning porcelain doll quality, causing you to focus on them even more than normal. It used to disturb you that you noticed things like that about girls, but now you know it’s just part of who you are. You’re almost sure what it means, but there’s still lingering doubt. It’s too exhausting to think about, and you just want to enjoy her while she’s here. You stay over at her house, eventually spooning her in the middle of the night, and wake up to another exhausting day of hair, makeup, and dresses, this time for the Grammy’s, which you get to attend thanks to Taylor and Miley.
Once you realized that you actually liked Taylor and that your next fight with Selena over your jealousy might be the last, you started making your own new friends. Miley Cyrus exudes this cool spontaneity, so you never know what to expect next. She also seemed desperately lonely for friends her own age, so you finally invited her to dinner at your house one night when Mom and Dad stayed on set late with Madison. She’s fun in a snarky way, and seems simultaneously younger and older than sixteen. She’s also really good friends with Taylor, and super excited to perform their duet tonight. After her hellacious year, she deserves whatever happiness she finds.
After the show, Miley leaves with her family and you, Selena, and David take Taylor to this old diner she loves here in LA. While David’s usually really cool and you love Taylor to death, you can’t wait to get rid of them so you hang out alone with your best friend. Once David takes Taylor back to her hotel, the two of you find the closest Target (still in Grammy outfits) and buy a jar of pickles, a bag of Snicker’s, and a couple old horror movies from the $5 rack. Back in her bedroom, you laugh late into the night, and do random things like make silly dance videos and sing for the mirror while wearing Miley’s old “Hannah” wig. You fall asleep easily, TV still on, again holding her in your sleep.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
It’s been months since you actually spent time with your best friend, and you’re slowly dying. Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but you can literally feel your true self, the one that comes out when you’re with her, slowly fading away. Sure, you call and text like always, but the last time you spent time alone with her (for longer than an hour) was the morning after the Grammy’s, when you woke up for the second morning in a row in her arms, back against her chest and hands intertwined. You fit so easily in her arms, and you want to wake up that way for the rest of your life. But you rarely allow yourself to indulge that thought. It could never happen for so many reasons. The first (and most important): Demi will never want you that way.
You sit in a director’s chair on set, watching a scene between David and Jake, and absently play with the silver ring on your right hand. Yet another reason. You both wear them (though you can’t really remember the last time you saw Demi’s), and they’re reminders of the principles you share and the love you hope to find one day, based on trust and commitment, not just sex and feeling. But so many mornings you want to “accidentally” drop it down the sink drain, because it hurts so much to wait for something that will never happen, can’t ever happen. She’s the only one worth waiting for. Finally, there’s Disney, the people who’ve been so good to you, and you know Miley’s past year can’t even compare to what your life might become. In many ways, you feel closer to Demi than ever before, but in others you feel her slowly slipping away.
You reach over and grab your Puerto Rican coffee, taking a sip while reflecting on the past year and everything that happened for you both. Demi’s gearing up for another album and tour, feverishly writing now that filming for the first season of “Sonny With a Chance” wrapped. Her songs are masterpieces, and she gets so worried over how the words flow and how the riffs sound that she can’t see the brilliance shining through. By far your favorite songs are “Two Worlds Collide” and “Stronger.” The first one she wrote about you, for you, and you cried when she surprised you with it at the end of filming “Princess Protection Program.” You know it was originally meant for the characters, and she did write it that way, but reality still shined through. The second one...well, that’s harder to explain. She never wanted to admit anything about that one.
The only thing you can possibly think of is that night at the beach, when she found you after everyone pinned you as the reason Nick and Miley broke up. You ran, horribly upset, to the beach behind your new house, sobbing while watching the ocean tide. It wasn’t your fault that their relationship ended, and that Nick developed a rebound crush on you. You didn’t want him the way he wanted you, and you knew you were the girl Miley wrote about in “7 Things,” that Nick liked you but loved her. Demi came down the beach to find you right on the water’s edge, watching the waves roll over your soaked Converse. She picked you up out of the sand and held you closer than ever before, which only caused you to sob harder. She lifted one hand away from the small of your back and started threading it through your hair, trying to relax you. Finally your sobs subsided and she brought her lips to your ear.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go see Miley, and talk to her. Tell her you’re not dating Nick, you went out a few times and didn’t wanna be his rebound girl. She’ll understand, Lena, I promise.”
“It’s not Miley I’m worried about,” you whimpered, nuzzling further into her shoulder. “It’s all the fans, starting this war between us. Apparently I’m a whore and you’re dating Joe and we’re why they don’t hang out with Miley anymore and I’m so tired, Demi, I just...”
“Shhh, Lena, it’s okay baby, I promise it will be okay. They’re just jealous of your talent and beauty. You know what? They can choke on the sand beneath us, because everything they try to break us down with will only make us stronger in the end.”
It felt so natural that it took you a moment to even notice. Sel was her childhood nickname for you, and she only started calling you Lena after “Hannah Montana,” just before you both got famous. But that night, she called you baby, something altogether new. After you calmed down she sat you near the waves, still holding you loosely while you watched the tide. You sat with Demi on the shore for hours, talking late into the night, and you mentioned that the nighttime beach was your ideal date, watching the stars and dancing under the moonlight. You saw so many emotions pass through those deep brown eyes, and you noticed her hold you a little tighter.
You first heard “Stronger” about a month later, and she refused to divulge anything about what inspired it. You keep her songs in your iPhone, and play them several times a week to quell the loneliness. Lately you’re playing them at night to soothe yourself to sleep, imagining her arms cradling you from behind while she sings you to sleep. You finally listened to the words closely enough to hear that they sounded eerily familiar, and looking back, you realize that the night at the beach shifted something between you. Other relationships fail because you hold them to an impossibly high standard you couldn’t even name until now. No one compares to your Demi, and no one ever will.
The attraction started when you turned thirteen, when Demi emerged from her awkward years more beautiful than you ever imagined possible. You shamelessly checked her out every chance you got, in nearly every outfit. You love wearing her shirts, and only when you lie in bed at night do you allow yourself to imagine walking into the kitchen for breakfast one morning wearing only her shirt. For years you wondered what it meant. Were you lesbian, bisexual, or just straight with a strange attraction to your best friend?
That question answered itself after you landed “Wizards.” You noticed everyone, squealing over the cute boys, while Demi just smirked and rolled her eyes. But along with Nick and Ryan (and who can forget Shia?), Alyson and Jennifer and Taylor (with those crazy long legs) made regular plays for your attention, and you figured out that you’re probably bisexual. Most girls don’t like labels, but you feel more normal when you can define your attraction. You’re not comfortable with others labeling you, though. You’re always careful to not use the terms “he/she” and “boy/girl” in interviews too much because you know there are other young girls out there like you, and ever the (closeted) role model, you want them to realize that they’re not completely alone.
Even after figuring it all out (and not telling a soul), Demi is still the one you’re most attracted to, and after that night at the beach you started falling for her, too. Lately you notice that when you’re together you stay impossibly close. Always touching, holding each other, staying within arm’s reach. You thought it was just a recent development until Kevin Jonas pointed out that you’ve always clung to her like that. Part of you wonders if it’s the attraction or the pain of her absence that makes you cling, or maybe her tendency to flirt obliviously. Even so, she seems to enjoy it, and as the speaker pages you to makeup, you wonder if she’ll ever know exactly how much you love her.
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Demi, then Selena
Rating/Word Count: PG/2742
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Demi Lovato or Selena Gomez (they own themselves and each other), 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.
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, then you can still read it here. This is my first multi-chaptered fic, so please be honest. 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.
It’s only when the teen magazines start asking about Valentine’s Day does it occur to you that you and Selena share a different relationship than other best friends. Sure, you always knew you were closer than most other best friends, and more obviously affectionate. But when they ask about your favorite Valentine’s memory, you instantly think of the night two years ago that Selena came over for your dad’s birthday, fresh from filming the pilot episode of “Wizards of Waverly Place.” You’d both flown home to Texas for some needed time off, and this night would be the first of two months with her alone, no interruptions.
After blowing out the candles on the cookie cake, Selena pulled several Valentine’s cards from her backpack, and a stack of roses and balloons that she’d hidden behind the couch. She gave everyone a card: you, Mom, Dallas, even Madison. Each of you got a balloon (she picked out the red one with black lightning bolts and jagged hearts with “Have a rockin’ Valentine’s!” written on it just for you), and a single red rose. Mom nearly cried, and Dallas hugged her with a raised eyebrow, impressed in that aloof way you usually hate but still secretly admire. After the family celebration, Mom and Dad went to Mi Cocina in neighboring Southlake, and Dallas and Madison went with them. Dallas took Madison around Southlake Town Square for a special Valentine’s evening, leaving you home alone with Selena. She pulled out “The Notebook” from her bag with a big goofy grin, and you raced each other to your bedroom down the hall.
Once you made it to your room, you skidded to a halt when you saw everything on your desk. A tub of cookie dough ice cream, a dozen black-tinged red carnations, red leather half-gloves, and a star-shaped box of candies in every color imaginable from that new candy boutique in the Neiman’s at NorthPark, Dylan’s Candy Bar. You squealed and pulled Selena into your arms, catching a whiff of her honeysuckle scented body wash as you held her and whispered, “thank you,” in her ear. She just smiled and held you even tighter, and you wondered if life got any better than this. After the movie, you gave Selena her Valentine’s present (a massive jar of pickles, a box of chocolates, and a new pair of customized green and black Converse), and put in your new Paramore CD. You spent the rest of the night laying in bed on your stomachs, flipping through magazines and picking out dresses for your upcoming quinceneras.
Nothing compared to that Valentine’s Day, fourteen and on the cusp of everything you both ever dreamed of. Last year you spent Valentine’s Day apart, wrapping up production on “Camp Rock” and Selena working twelve-hour days on “Wizards of Waverly Place.” You felt so miserable and lonely, and the only memorable thing was the foil Valentine from Dallas with your own face staring back at you, from the early merchandising of “Camp Rock.” This year, likewise, you’ll spend February 14th apart, with Selena again on set and you now working the twelve-hour days on “Sonny With a Chance” with Tiffany, a really sweet girl, but not the girl you want.
You sit feeling miserable and alone and lose all track of thought. The interviewer pulls you back into reality by repeating the next question three times. Even though you both live here in LA now, it seems like you never see Selena. You talk and text all the time, but haven’t made a video in forever. You wish for nothing more than to return to Puerto Rico, filming together, just being together. You ache for her touch in a way that you’ve never fully understood, even though you’ve felt it for years. Now, too many things and people stand in the way. You’re feeling optimistic, though, because she’s yours all weekend long.
Selena’s more charming, and makes friends easier than you, so it didn’t surprise you when she started making other good friends in LA and around Disney, Taylor Swift the closest of them, and you didn’t stand a chance compared to her. She’s nineteen, for one thing, not quite three years older than you. Her music tastes match Selena’s own better than yours do, and she’s so crazy successful. You actually got sick of hearing “Love Story” every time you turned on the radio. Young girls idolize Taylor, and relate better to Taylor’s music than to yours. Every time you tried to hate her, though, she did something awesome, like perform live in the rain at the ACM’s, or edit and produce her own music video, or invite only you to an LA Kings game, or perform sleeveless in the frigid cold. Hours later she hugged you first at midnight in Times Square on New Year’s.
You actually started to consider Taylor a good friend that cold December night. You smirked when she took the stage and immediately launched into “Picture to Burn,” then dropped your jaw in shock when she took off her coat just before singing part of “Forever and Always.” Your sidelong glance backstage displayed Joe’s slightly pale face while Kevin yelled at him for causing this. While you’re close and know it’s complicated, you also know that the Joe that broke up with Taylor during a 27-second call is not the same sarcastic goofball you remembered from “Camp Rock.” You dreaded the midnight countdown with Ryan, for more reasons than one, and sure enough, the awkward tension hung heavy in the air. When the ball dropped, you looked at the boys, then met Taylor’s eyes just as she pulled you into a hug. Taylor whispered a few words of encouragement, then, “Too bad Miley and Selena aren’t here, then we’d really see them squirm.” You laughed and moved to hug Kevin, needing the comfort after the reminder that you were away from Selena yet again.
You finally get the chance to be together again at Jen Stone’s birthday party. You dance together nearly every dance, and like always, having her in your arms makes everything okay again, even if it sets your skin aflame. She’s so beautiful in her black dress and heels, which she kicks off halfway through the evening so she can dance uninhibited for hours. Her red lips give her an absolutely stunning porcelain doll quality, causing you to focus on them even more than normal. It used to disturb you that you noticed things like that about girls, but now you know it’s just part of who you are. You’re almost sure what it means, but there’s still lingering doubt. It’s too exhausting to think about, and you just want to enjoy her while she’s here. You stay over at her house, eventually spooning her in the middle of the night, and wake up to another exhausting day of hair, makeup, and dresses, this time for the Grammy’s, which you get to attend thanks to Taylor and Miley.
Once you realized that you actually liked Taylor and that your next fight with Selena over your jealousy might be the last, you started making your own new friends. Miley Cyrus exudes this cool spontaneity, so you never know what to expect next. She also seemed desperately lonely for friends her own age, so you finally invited her to dinner at your house one night when Mom and Dad stayed on set late with Madison. She’s fun in a snarky way, and seems simultaneously younger and older than sixteen. She’s also really good friends with Taylor, and super excited to perform their duet tonight. After her hellacious year, she deserves whatever happiness she finds.
After the show, Miley leaves with her family and you, Selena, and David take Taylor to this old diner she loves here in LA. While David’s usually really cool and you love Taylor to death, you can’t wait to get rid of them so you hang out alone with your best friend. Once David takes Taylor back to her hotel, the two of you find the closest Target (still in Grammy outfits) and buy a jar of pickles, a bag of Snicker’s, and a couple old horror movies from the $5 rack. Back in her bedroom, you laugh late into the night, and do random things like make silly dance videos and sing for the mirror while wearing Miley’s old “Hannah” wig. You fall asleep easily, TV still on, again holding her in your sleep.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
It’s been months since you actually spent time with your best friend, and you’re slowly dying. Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but you can literally feel your true self, the one that comes out when you’re with her, slowly fading away. Sure, you call and text like always, but the last time you spent time alone with her (for longer than an hour) was the morning after the Grammy’s, when you woke up for the second morning in a row in her arms, back against her chest and hands intertwined. You fit so easily in her arms, and you want to wake up that way for the rest of your life. But you rarely allow yourself to indulge that thought. It could never happen for so many reasons. The first (and most important): Demi will never want you that way.
You sit in a director’s chair on set, watching a scene between David and Jake, and absently play with the silver ring on your right hand. Yet another reason. You both wear them (though you can’t really remember the last time you saw Demi’s), and they’re reminders of the principles you share and the love you hope to find one day, based on trust and commitment, not just sex and feeling. But so many mornings you want to “accidentally” drop it down the sink drain, because it hurts so much to wait for something that will never happen, can’t ever happen. She’s the only one worth waiting for. Finally, there’s Disney, the people who’ve been so good to you, and you know Miley’s past year can’t even compare to what your life might become. In many ways, you feel closer to Demi than ever before, but in others you feel her slowly slipping away.
You reach over and grab your Puerto Rican coffee, taking a sip while reflecting on the past year and everything that happened for you both. Demi’s gearing up for another album and tour, feverishly writing now that filming for the first season of “Sonny With a Chance” wrapped. Her songs are masterpieces, and she gets so worried over how the words flow and how the riffs sound that she can’t see the brilliance shining through. By far your favorite songs are “Two Worlds Collide” and “Stronger.” The first one she wrote about you, for you, and you cried when she surprised you with it at the end of filming “Princess Protection Program.” You know it was originally meant for the characters, and she did write it that way, but reality still shined through. The second one...well, that’s harder to explain. She never wanted to admit anything about that one.
The only thing you can possibly think of is that night at the beach, when she found you after everyone pinned you as the reason Nick and Miley broke up. You ran, horribly upset, to the beach behind your new house, sobbing while watching the ocean tide. It wasn’t your fault that their relationship ended, and that Nick developed a rebound crush on you. You didn’t want him the way he wanted you, and you knew you were the girl Miley wrote about in “7 Things,” that Nick liked you but loved her. Demi came down the beach to find you right on the water’s edge, watching the waves roll over your soaked Converse. She picked you up out of the sand and held you closer than ever before, which only caused you to sob harder. She lifted one hand away from the small of your back and started threading it through your hair, trying to relax you. Finally your sobs subsided and she brought her lips to your ear.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go see Miley, and talk to her. Tell her you’re not dating Nick, you went out a few times and didn’t wanna be his rebound girl. She’ll understand, Lena, I promise.”
“It’s not Miley I’m worried about,” you whimpered, nuzzling further into her shoulder. “It’s all the fans, starting this war between us. Apparently I’m a whore and you’re dating Joe and we’re why they don’t hang out with Miley anymore and I’m so tired, Demi, I just...”
“Shhh, Lena, it’s okay baby, I promise it will be okay. They’re just jealous of your talent and beauty. You know what? They can choke on the sand beneath us, because everything they try to break us down with will only make us stronger in the end.”
It felt so natural that it took you a moment to even notice. Sel was her childhood nickname for you, and she only started calling you Lena after “Hannah Montana,” just before you both got famous. But that night, she called you baby, something altogether new. After you calmed down she sat you near the waves, still holding you loosely while you watched the tide. You sat with Demi on the shore for hours, talking late into the night, and you mentioned that the nighttime beach was your ideal date, watching the stars and dancing under the moonlight. You saw so many emotions pass through those deep brown eyes, and you noticed her hold you a little tighter.
You first heard “Stronger” about a month later, and she refused to divulge anything about what inspired it. You keep her songs in your iPhone, and play them several times a week to quell the loneliness. Lately you’re playing them at night to soothe yourself to sleep, imagining her arms cradling you from behind while she sings you to sleep. You finally listened to the words closely enough to hear that they sounded eerily familiar, and looking back, you realize that the night at the beach shifted something between you. Other relationships fail because you hold them to an impossibly high standard you couldn’t even name until now. No one compares to your Demi, and no one ever will.
The attraction started when you turned thirteen, when Demi emerged from her awkward years more beautiful than you ever imagined possible. You shamelessly checked her out every chance you got, in nearly every outfit. You love wearing her shirts, and only when you lie in bed at night do you allow yourself to imagine walking into the kitchen for breakfast one morning wearing only her shirt. For years you wondered what it meant. Were you lesbian, bisexual, or just straight with a strange attraction to your best friend?
That question answered itself after you landed “Wizards.” You noticed everyone, squealing over the cute boys, while Demi just smirked and rolled her eyes. But along with Nick and Ryan (and who can forget Shia?), Alyson and Jennifer and Taylor (with those crazy long legs) made regular plays for your attention, and you figured out that you’re probably bisexual. Most girls don’t like labels, but you feel more normal when you can define your attraction. You’re not comfortable with others labeling you, though. You’re always careful to not use the terms “he/she” and “boy/girl” in interviews too much because you know there are other young girls out there like you, and ever the (closeted) role model, you want them to realize that they’re not completely alone.
Even after figuring it all out (and not telling a soul), Demi is still the one you’re most attracted to, and after that night at the beach you started falling for her, too. Lately you notice that when you’re together you stay impossibly close. Always touching, holding each other, staying within arm’s reach. You thought it was just a recent development until Kevin Jonas pointed out that you’ve always clung to her like that. Part of you wonders if it’s the attraction or the pain of her absence that makes you cling, or maybe her tendency to flirt obliviously. Even so, she seems to enjoy it, and as the speaker pages you to makeup, you wonder if she’ll ever know exactly how much you love her.