Don't take this the wrong way, but the finalist mansion doesn't look how I pictured it.

When I was told I was going to be living in the finalists mansion, the word 'mansion' made me picture on of those luxurious estates from the works of Jane Austen. The kind with 3 stories and ivy climbing up on all sides and a lion head door knocker, with a long driveway, miles of acreage and a wrought iron gate at the entrance, in between stone pillars with intimidating gargoyles on top. Willie laughed at me when I told him this, but he also made a bet with me that everyone who drove in LA drove Porsche's and Ferrari's, and I've only seen 3.

So, I might have been wrong – and in the wrong decade – with my expectations, but the building before me is just as intimidating. The mansion is a long rectangle, painted white, three stories tall with wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor glass. The afternoon sunlight makes the whole building shine. It excites me and scares me at the same time.

If I wasn't so set on remembering how to walk straight and keep down breakfast that my nerves have been threatening to launch from my stomach all morning, I might have picked up a pebble and flicked it at one of the windows to see what would happen.

"Is that everything, ma'am?" The male voice breaks my train of thought, and I realize I had completely forgot about my taxi driver. And I also realized I was gawking at this place like I'd never seen a house before. Well to be fair, I really had never seen a house that looked like this.

I look down at my feet where my small supply of luggage lies.

Everything looks like it's there.

I nod my head, glancing up at the driver. He has the window rolled down so I can see him, his name tag says 'Brandon', but I'm too nervous to call him by name. It was already awkward enough travelling in 20 minutes of silence, I'm not going to pretend we're friends and on first name basis. "I think so, thanks." My voice wavers a little as I speak. I have all my stuff, I'm here in one piece and I paid and tipped him already without needing to be reminded. For my first taxi ride I think I did alright.

Brandon smiles a little and watches me as he starts to pull away from the curb. I feel a little nervous with him driving forward without looking ahead of him, "Have a nice day." He says, and with that his eyes return to the road and he speeds off.

I manage to half-heartedly wave as the vehicle it disappears around a wind in the road, doing a mental checklist to make sure I didn't forget anything. Sure enough I did. Yeah, I have my suitcase, backpack and satchel with me, but I left my brain in that taxi. Now that I'm alone with, it's all sinking in.

Oh my god. I actually have to go in now.

I look up at the mansion again and my stomach does a flip. This is my new home for the next couple of weeks. It didn't exactly scream "home!" to me, what I was getting sounded more like "Ikea show room!".

The only way I'll get comfortable with being here is if it feels like home, and calling it a mansion is going to freak you out. This isn't a mansion. This is home now.

A few cars are parked along the front of the mansion- fuck, I mean home -, but not a soul is in sight. Willie said he would meet me here at 2:30pm and if he arrived early he would wait outside or if he was running late he would text. If anyone knows how overwhelmed I'm feeling right now, it's Willie. We've been in contact since bootcamp, and is definitely the person I'm closest to here. Maybe he texted and I didn't hear it come in. I reach down and pick up my satchel, feeling for the familiar rectangular bump of my cell phone, making sure I hadn't dropped it in the back seat of the taxi. I find it and pull it out, but there are no new alerts.

I sigh, putting it away and hanging the satchel over my shoulder. I wait a few seconds, glancing up and down the street. Maybe I'm being punk'd or something and Ashton Kutcher is pissing himself with laughter as he watches me on a monitor in a van around the corner.

I start to consider it until I realize it's a stupid idea; only famous people get Punk'd. I'm just a girl on X factor, stuck just under halfway between unknown and famous.

I've probably only been standing here for 2 minutes, though it feels like 30, waiting for someone else to show up so I know I'm in the right place. I told myself I wouldn't do this, depend on others and follow their lead. It's time to grow up and be your own person. What's stopping you? My feet. My brain. My fear fo the unknown. Life starts now. Life starts now. My mantra usually works in getting me in the right frame of mind, but right now it's not.

Maybe I was e-mailed the wrong address. Maybe I'm not in Demi Lovato's final 4 and in reality(far away) I'm asleep in my own bedroom thinking that I'm living in an elaborate dream. I shouldn't be so scared shitless nervous. Maybe this is a sign I shouldn't go in. Hey, maybe I'm not ready and should wait until next year to try again. (That is... if I get four yeses next year and make it this far- hypothetically, I mean, if this whole thing isn't a dream and I really did get actual yeses from four actual celebrity judges of the actual tv show X factor and now I get one of them (the actual Demi Lovato!) as my mentor).

Demi Lovato. An far too pleasant thrill rushes over me at the thought of her.

God, I can't believe she's real. I mean, yeah I knew she was real before, but I knew she was way out of my league in a too-perfect-on-another-level-the-only-way-I'd-meet-you-would-be-by-being-your-butler-which-just-so-you-know-I-wouldn't-mind-being-so-please-hire-me kind of way.

A few weeks ago, the closest I had come to Demi was seeing her and hearing her voice on my CD's and youtube videos. I wasn't a die hard fan- a "Lovatic", but I had(and still do) huge respect for her. I knew she was a powerful young woman and successful artist with a beautiful voice and a face to match. I thought that was the extent of how I would I know Demi. An audition and four little words changed that.

Simply put, in person Demi is so much better. In all ways.

Physically, she's just as gorgeous, but she's taller than I thought she'd be. I know we're around the same height, not that I googled it or anything, but every time I've seen her she's been in stilettos so high it's painful just to look at them. I don't know how she manages not to trip, but it must be worth it. Oh, it's worth it. A voice inside my head cuts in,Jeez, the way those heels flatter her legs and ass I know it's definitely 200% freaking worth it. I shake me head, trying to get rid of the thought, although true, I'm trying to motivate myself here, not admire Demi Lovato's body.

I never thought she would be someone who would alter my future. The best days of my life had happened because of Demi, because she really liked me. No, she likes me. Present tense. Right now, she's out in LA somewhere, knowing I exist. She thinks I'm incredible and... hot and so many other things I'm starting to believe because of her.

I can't believe I actually went through with singing "I Kissed a Girl" in front of her.

The task was to take a popular song and make it acoustic. It's a fun and flirty song, and- no pun intended -I liked it. I remember the way she smiled when I told her my song choice. Knowingly almost. Oh god, I hope she didn't think I was trying to flirt with her. Flirting was the last thing on my mind. I was so anxious and stressed out on performing right that I wasn't even thinking about flirting, but I guess it went over was alright. Well, I was singing about kissing girls, there's nothing that's not alright about that. I feel my cheeks grow hot as my train of thought transitions into wondering how it would have gone over if I had put out the effort to sing flirtatiously and sexily. I would have loved to see her face. Oh yeah, and Nick's since he was there too... but mostly Demi.

I'm smiling now, easing out of my intense train of thought, but then my eyes are drawn back to the mansion of glass before me and my smile fades. The building is mostly transparent and I can see there's definitely no one on this side of the house waiting for a new arrival. There's no movement on any of the floors.

Maybe this isn't the right place. No shit, I know I'm not in the right place. I'm in Los Angeles. Hollywood Hills, to be exact. Far, far from my Rochester town. But I don't want to return just yet, my family and friend back home have faith in me. I can't let them down by backing out because I'm scared of the unknown. And more importantly, I can't let Demi down. If she believes in me, I should too.

I have to do this for her, that's the only way I'll have the strength to do it for me.

A few deep breaths later, I sling my backpack of my shoulder on top of my satchel and pick up my suitcase. I'm not sure where the front door is, but I'm guessing it's at the front of this place. I walk up a small flight of concrete steps that look promising. They lead up between two small palm trees, meters away from a panel of glass that looks like all the other windows, except this one has a metal handle and an intercom mounted on a cement pillar that comes up to my waist. But most importantly, the X factor logo is engraves on the glass door. Finally, a sign that I'm in the right place.

I put my suitcase down and inspect the intercom; my key into the place.

On the inercom there are 5 round, white buttons in a row with a metallic rectangular one that looks like a keyboard spacebar below them. The white buttons are labeled from 1 to 5, the "spacebar" is unlabelled.

My stomach sinks. Am I supposed to know the code to get into this place? How the hell should I know? I frown, randomly picking button number 1 and pressing down. Static sounds hiss out of the intercom.

I'm not sure if that means I should say something, so I lean down a little and speak close to the intercom, "Hello?" I feel like an idiot. I'm talking to an inanimate object.

I stand up straight in case anyone's watching me, even though I know no one's around. I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting for... what am I waiting for? I don't know, something. Another life form would be nice.

About ten seconds go by before I press the spacebar button. It looked the most important after all, and if it ends up making something blow up or sets off an alarm it shouldn't be there to tempt me.

There are no explosions or alarms, but intercom does make a low beeping sound that lasts for a few seconds.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

And then a click, and the door shifts inwards a little.

I pick up my suitcase and, with my free hand, instinctively reach for the door handle and push. There's no resistance. I push more and take a few steps forward and then all of a sudden I'm standing in the foyer of the X factor house.

I made it in. I'm officially here. I let what just happened sink in and I barely reign in a squeal, "Oh my god!" I whisper-shout, because it's so quiet in here it seems wrong to ruin it, "Oh my god!"

Smiling broadly, I set my bags down to the right of the door and look around the room for the first time. It's perfectly square with solid walls on three sides, the only glass wall is the one behind me where I entered from. To my left there are three sleek white couches against the wall with a large squiggly painting mounted on the wall above them, and on on the far wall that I'm facing is a silver door that looks like an elevator. (Oh my god, I knew this place was big- but elevator big?! Holy crap!) The only thing to my right are a flight of stairs that go around the corner, leading somewhere I can't see.

I have no idea where to go, and I don't want to anywhere and risk someone else coming in and finding me snooping around, so I take a seat on one of the couches. Plus, whether it's the afternoon sun or my nerves, I'm dizzy really need to sit down.

I hadn't realized how tense I was, now that I'm off my feet I feel way more relaxed already.

I'm considering taking a nap when I start hear periodic thumping sounds, growing louder and louder. My mind takes a moment to match the sound to something: footsteps. Coming down the stairs.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Someone else is here after all.

Before I can think of somewhere to hide- because that's logical, right? Hiding in a glass house. No way I'd be seen. - I can see a bare foot appear from around the corner of the staircase, the toenails painted black, then a blue skinny jean-clad leg comes into view. I avert my eyes quickly, before the rest of her body is visible. I know who it is. The black nail polish was an immediate tip off. Demi.

"Hi!" I can hear the smile in her voice before I look up and see it, white and dazzling. If not for the signature smile, I almost don't recognize Demi, her hair is still blonde like the last time I saw her, except now she has a fringe that covers her entire forehead. It's cute, I guess, she can pull anything off, but it's a shame it covers her face so much.

"Hey," I reply in a small, unsure voice that surprises me.

I stand up when she walks closer to me with open arms and I mimic the gesture until she's close enough for us to hug. Demi wraps her arms tightly around my waist. Mine are around her neck.

I've involuntarily risen up so I'm standing on my toes, a habit from having to do it when she's in her stilettos. This is the first time I'm seen her without them. I try to inconspicuously change my stance, but she has noticed already. "Aww, you're so cute." she says as she pulls away, her eyes giving me a once over from head to toe.

I immediately second guess my outfit choice. I'm wearing a figure hugging white dress with black stripes that stops mid thigh, with my leather jacket over top of it; giving me a small amount of conservation. In comparison, Demi is almost completely covered up, wearing blue skinny jeans with a long sleeved red and blue checkered flannel. The one thing that is bare; is her face. She doesn't have an smudge of make up on. Of course, it's really cute, but that's not the point.

Demi's gaze travels shifts to my hands, which I have clasped together in front of myself. For a moment I think she's staring at something else. "Oh, hey, we match." She says, as if it's the greatest thing in the world. She holds out her hand, palm facing down, and, just like mine, her nails are painted black.

I laugh. It comes out a little shaky, but it's genuine.

"It's a sign." I say.

We're destined.

I don't say that. (I don't even know why I thought it.)

"Did you do yours yourself?" She asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"It's really good. I can never get mine to match like that. That's why I get manicures. I don't know how they learn to do it so good. There must have been a school where you're taught to paint nails that I missed out on."

"I've never had a manicure before." I admit, feeling completely out of the loop.

Surprise flickers across Demi's face, but it's replaced with mischief a split second later. "Then we're getting those babies manicured tomorrow." She pauses, lightly patting the back of my left hand. I'm not sure if that's a queue for her wanting to hold it or inspect it, but I keep it clasped tightly with my other one, waiting for her to keep speaking. "Every girl deserves at least a hundred manicures in their life."

I feel an involuntary smile on my face, but when I nod it's stiff. I'm finding it hard to relax, standing in front of trying to have a conversation. This is the first time I've seen her without a camera or spotlight on her. The first time I've seen her without make up, heels and a glitzy wardrobe. It's refreshing, she's not in mentor/judge mode, she's here for me as herself. As a friend. Wow, it's hard to think of her as a friend. I can only think of her as a mentor; or a supreme being that I should listen to and take orders from. I'm not sure what's more intimidating: "mentor Demi", or "friend Demi". I know she's only a few months older than I am, but everything I have said to her during the past few minutes sounds stupid and inadequate to my ears. I just want to impress her.

Demi doesn't seem to notice my internal conflict, still smiling brightly while she asks me questions, "So how's it going? Did you find your way here alright?"

"Yeah, great, no problem." I reply. Nevermind how I almost chickened out last minute.

"Cool. Well, it looks like you made it here okay..." She trails off, watching my face with an expression that's a mix of confusion and amusement. "we can relax you know... you don't have to stay standing."

I blush. Yeah I know I just enjoy being uncomfortable. Instead, I murmur the most wisdom filled sentence ever,"Oh."

I probably look too relived when I sit down on the couch where I had been before. I scoot over to the side and invite Demi to sit down next to me. She settles beside me, angled towards me a little so her knee knocks mine lightly. I'm not sure whether to move or just pretend I don't even notice.

I choose the latter.

There's a moment of silence, and instead of filling it with another question for me, Demi is occupied by unbuttoning one of the two front pockets of her flannel. With the flair of a magician revealing a white rabbit from his top hat, she pulls out a pair of black rimmed, non-prescription glasses. Demi flashes me a grin before sliding them on. Oh my god.

"So, how do you like LA so far?" Just like her prior questions, she sounds truly curious about my answer and not asking just for the sake of it. "Sorry you had to spend most of it looking at the inside of my apartment." She laughs, but sounds truly apologetic.

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Are you kidding? I loved your place. I don't know how you can leave it."

Demi's ever-present smile widens, probably pleased that she's gotten me to go beyond a one-syllable or two-syllable answer. "Well you're welcome over anytime, dear." She says it in a very proper voice and I think I even hear a twang of a British accent like she's pretending to be the Queen. Might as well be.

I'm trying to think of something witty to say back, but Demi looks like she has something more to say, her eyes narrowed slightly and her eyebrows knitting behind the veil of her blonde fringe. "You have my number right?"

I bob my head a little. Of course I do. Demi gave it to all the 4 young adults. I put it in my phone right away so I wouldn't forget. I play is cool though. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good, because I want everyone to feel comfortable with being here with me. You need anything, just call- literally."

"Yeah and I know where you live, so..."

"Oh shit."

Her words are followed by a loud giggle that's contagious, I'm joining in before I can stop myself.

It feels good to laugh with her.

Our laughter fades quickly and it's quiet for a moment, but it's comfortably quiet, both of us thinking.

I watch her as she pulls off her glasses and shines them on her shirt before popping them back on. I think like having Demi to myself. I like having her to talk to without being under the surveillance cameras. When it's just Demi; stripped down, not-in-production Demi - I feel like I have to be honest with her, and already I know she'll be honest with me.

I wonder where the other contestants are. Demi and I are obviously alone, but it has to be almost 3pm by now. Everyone else should definitely be here. The silence lags on for a few seconds more. I surprise myself by breaking it, "Wow, it's so quiet..."

Demi nods in agreement, "It's usually not this quiet here. Hollywood's behaving for you."

"Where are the others?"

"I'm not sure about everybody, but I know a bunch of them were taking a shuttle from the hotel here, but they're still caught up in traffic downtown.. should be another 20 minutes or something."

I bite down on my lower lip, worrying it between my teeth. Alone with Demi for another 20 minutes. That's long enough to make an impression on her, what if this is a test? What if the questions she asked are trick questions and I answered wrong? I know I'm over analyzing the situation, but the other option is Demi really does just want to hang out with me, and that's too great to consider about.

Demi misinterprets the look on my face and puckers her lips into a perfect pout, looking so utterly heartbroken it's unfair,"The thought of hanging out with me's that terrible, huh?" She asks, sadness laced in her voice.

No! I shake my head quickly, scrambling to back track, eyes wide, Oh my god she must think I'm horrible and I reach out and touch her leg because comforting her seems like the right thing to do. "No, no, I just had no idea and..." As I talk I pat her leg in a way I think is reassuring. I'm hoping it comes across that way and it doesn't look like my hand's spasming. "I just feel kind of ridiculous arriving so early I wasn't trying to... be that girl."

I watch as Demi's eyebrows raise, "That girl...?" She prompts.

"The goody goody teacher's pet showing up extra early." I clarify, definitely blushing as I say it or maybe I'm blushing because as I spoke I super awkwardly took my hand off her leg.

She chuckles breathily, and in a voice smooth as velvet, that I'm not sure is intended or not, she replies, "I think it depends on the teacher."

I'm going to deny the fact that I shivered a little.

"No, but seriously..." Demi takes a hair elastic off of her wrist as she speaks, voice back to normal, collecting her blonde hair and tying it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, "... you can go out too if you want. Before I heard you come in, I was out back checking out the pool. Today's the first time I've seen this place and – oh my god – it's amazing."

I shrug my shoulders. I can go out later with Willie. "I'm okay."

Demi seems pleased with my answer, sitting up a little straighter and beaming at me, "We can have some time alone then." She nods, agreeing with her statement, before her eyes are on me again.

Without warning she reached out and touches my hair, "I love this by the way, so cool." She says, I glance down to see the yellow streak I have is between her forefinger and thumb and she's gently moving it between her fingers as she examines it.

Her compliment makes my face feel hot, but I manage to get a decent, "Thanks." out of my mouth.

Demi is still playing with my hair, and it should bother me but it doesn't at all."I didn't even notice it until a couple of days ago... how do you think this colour would look on me?" She asks amidst a giggle, leaning closer to me so her head is almost on my shoulder, holding my yellow hair to hers. I'm watching this all happen out of my peripheral vision, since if I turn my head, she would no long have my hair in her hold, and I don't want to ruin her fun. Yeah, that's why I'm not moving. Definitely.

She shifts a little and her head no longer hovers over my shoulder, it's officially resting on my shoulder. For some reason I don't mind the close proximity at all (Probably because it's Demi Lovato and she can get away with a lot, being Demi Lovato). And besides, I'm pretty sure she's just goofing off to try to get me to loosen up some more. Well, it's working. Kind of. I'm completely calm and relaxed... other than the fact that my heart has decided to hammer against my chest without my permission or any reason to do so.

Calm the fuck down.

"I've tried almost every other colour..." She muses to me, or herself. I inhale and I can smell her hair. It smells like vanilla and something fruity. It's really nice. I wonder if she's wearing perfume. Oh god, I wonder what I smell like.

Bless her heart, she's still talking even though I'm not acknowledging her at all. I guess she assumes I'm paying attention, because how could you not pay attention to someone this close."Maybe it'd be too much all over. I even a hard time even getting these bangs..." She lifts her head and sits up, back in her previous place as if nothing had happened.

My shoulder feels abnormally empty.

"I haven't had bangs for years." Demi adds with a little emphasis, probably fishing for a response from me about it.

I try to shrug off how I'm feeling and muster up an answer. What is up with me today? Just because she's a celebrity doesn't mean you have to feel so nervous. "They're good." I say, but the tone of my voice implies differently. It's true, I don't like them. They cover too much of her face.

"Good," Demi repeats, the single syllable followed by an amused chuckle. I'm not sure if that's her making fun of me or not so I just smile slightly in response, but it must look too strained because she's grinning that signature grin and nudging her elbow playfully into mine, "Are you okay? How are you?"

I think about it for a moment. I'm definitely not going to answer with how I'm feeling at that very moment, because I know that's only because Demi's here.

Instead, I think about how I felt this morning and this afternoon and at bootcamp; how crazy and amazing everything has been. God, where do I start? "I'm so happy. This is still, like, a dream to me... I can't believe I'm here, it's so awesome. I can't believe this is my new life. I can't believe I'm talking to you!" I can't help myself from gushing with the last part, but it's honest.

"Awww. Well, you totally deserve to be here, I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't think you were amazing." Demi says, a warm smile on her lips. "... or the other three." She adds, like it's an after thought.

I nod in acknowledgment, not sure what to say. She thinks I'm amazing and I'm wondering how to keep it that way.

I sit there silently and out of the corner of my eye I can see that she's watching me, although it feels more like she's studying me, expecting me to say something. I search the ground for inspiration and just when I start to open my mouth to speak, Demi beats me to it.

"I can see that you're totally, like, exploding with happiness and you're so loud and talkative I can barely get a word in, but do you wanna come up stairs and see where your bunk is? I'd give you a house tour but, I honestly don't know my way around that well, and you look really tense so I think you'll enjoy seeing your bed the most."

I look up at her and smile gratefully, she's right on so many levels. "Thank you. Sorry, I am, I just... there's just been a lot to process in so little time. I need a day to let it absorb, you know?"

Demi nods, "It's totally fine, I know. I mean, if you were a sexy rockstar at all hours of the day you wouldn't be in a competition,"

Sexy rockstar.

I'm a little shocked and I can feel a nervous giggle starting at the back of my throat, but I encourage her to elaborate, "Why not?"

She shoots me a look like it's obvious, "There wouldn't be any competitors. You'd burn everyone up with your hotness." She's joking. She's totally joking. But she still said it aloud, so I know it's she must have meant it to some extent.

I try to address her joke, but I can't find the words because I'm kind of speechless.

With any other friend I would have shoved them in the arm and rolled my eyes. But the way Demi jokes is like a game, she baits you with something and it's your job to throw a comment back. I want to play, but I end up expressing my disbelief instead, "Oh my god, you did not just-!" I sound like such a teenage girl, and can't even finish because I don't know how, my mouths just ends up moving with no sound coming out of it. I can tell Demi's trying to withhold laughter; she's almost shaking. "Oh, whatever." I mutter.

Demi releases laugh and shakes her head a little, getting to her feet. "Don't be so tense, Jennel." She chastises teasingly, but I know she's right. I'm taking her far too seriously. "Here, let me help you with your bags."

I nod. Right - we're going upstairs. I reach for my suitcase at the same time she does. Her hand brushes mine and she gasps, retracting her hand away from mine quickly. "Ouch!" She yelps. I'm worried for a moment. Crap, what did I do?!

Demi examines her hand, then her eyes dart to me. The edges of her lips twitch slightly and I know that she got me again, "I was mistaken. There's still a fire burning inside you."

She shoots me a mischievous smirk before she picks up my suitcase and sets off up the stairs, humming the chorus to Burn Baby Burn!