A/N: Hi girls and boys! So this chapter is when the T rating comes into effect a little bit ;) Enjoy! I don't own anything but the plot. xoxo KAT So I've decided that the whole dinner with Miley then "date" with Nick situation isn't that bad. I mean, it's not like she'll ever know, and even if she does, Nick and I are friends, she knows that. Us hanging out isn't a reasonable cause for anger. At least I hope she feels that way, because when Miley's mad, Miley's MAD. I probably just shouldn't tell her. That wouldn't make me a bad person. Or maybe it wouldn't... Either way, I'm hanging out with them both tonight. To late to change that now, considering I'm in the car on the way to Freston's for dinner with Miley. I'm actually really excited about this. I haven't hung out with just Miley in forever, and I'll be on tour soon, which won't help. It's good that we're doing this tonight.
I pull up to Freston's, a small, brick building with tables outside behind elegant, iron fences. I go around to the side of the building to park and pass about three big, black vans. Paparazzi. Great. As I get out of the car a few of them follow me to the door asking their stupid questions that, if I were to answer them, would be twisted and contorted into something that made it seem like I was a prostitute or a terrorist in my spare time, and then not feel guilty about harming my life and career, and then do it again... I'm not bitter.
Actually, they seem a little less persistent today then usual. Good. At least I don't have to worry about them following me into the restaurant. I go in and wait for the hostess to bring me to a table. After about 5 minutes, Miley comes skipping in. Fashionably late, same old Miley. "Hey Dem!" she practically yells. "Sorry I'm late but those stupid paparazzi were blocking the damn door!" she says a little flustered. They didn't seem that bad to me. Huh. I feel bad for Miley. She literally gets less than an ounce of privacy, whether it's her parents, photographers or talk show hosts butting into her life as if it's their business.
"No problem, Mi. I'm sorry you had so much trouble with them."
She waves her hand as if to say Whatever. "Screw them. They have no lives." (Told you.) "Actually, I feel bad for them. They're so pathetic that they have to feed off of everyone else's personal lives to get a paycheck." she laughs. It may sound harsh, but these guys are pretty much paid stalkers, and they're damn creepy. I laugh with her. "So Mi, how are you? It's been too long, dear!"
She smiles "I'm well Demetria and how are you?" she says in a fake British accent, obviously mocking my use of the word "dear".
"Ha ha." I say sarcastically with a smile.
"Oh, there's that Demi smile that I love!" This makes me smile even more. "So Dem. Girl Talk. Anyone new in your life?"
Not exactly, I think to myself. There's no way I'm saying that though, so I just say "No," with a half smile. "How 'bout you?"
"Well... yeah actually." she says. Then nothing else. She's torturing me. Nice. "Who!" I say after a while, annoyed.
She laughs. "Well you know that Avan Jogia guy from Victorious on Nickelodeon?" she asks, obviously not able to contain a smile even saying his name. She must really like him. The only other person that has that effect on her is, well, Nick.
"Oh yeah! He's pretty hot. You go girl," she laughs at me for using that phrase, understandable.
"We just ran into each other one day at a book store in San Diego. He's just so smart and nice and funny and SO DAMN CUTE!" she giggles. "Awww! I like it when you're all giggly and happy! That's awesome, Mi. I'm really happy for you. Get some, girl!" Why did I feel that that last part was necessary? I don't really know. But I had fun saying it. She laughs really hard when I say that, and I'm reminded why I bother to be in the comedy business. I love being able to make people laugh.
"I love you, Demi!" she says when she gets a breath in. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too Miley!" It's so true. I only really laugh like this with Miley, and I need it these days. ***************************************************
We finish up our dinner and pay the check. Miley walks toward the door, bracing herself for the paparazzi. I walk behind her and do the same. We walk out onto the dark front walk, illuminated only by the light from the building and the headlights of the paparazzi vans. Then, the flashing of the cameras. They immediately swarm around Miley and she just looks down and walks toward her car. I get cut off from her by the paparazzi. They don't seem to take any notice to my presence. I expected that this would relieve me, so why do I feel so hurt? Yes, photographers are extremely obnoxious, but sometimes it's nice. A real confidence booster, knowing that your life is significant to someone. And it hurts like hell when you get literally ignored. Nobody likes that. I can see Miley getting upset. She really does hate the paparazzi. Soon she's yelling at them that they disgust her, that they're scum or something like that, then she waves goodbye to me, alone by my car, and climbs into her own car. She now faces the struggle of getting out of the parking lot, but when she does, the paparazzi go back to their vans and drive away, leaving me with an easy way out. Nice.
I can't believe how hurt I really am. How could something that I expected to make me so happy end up making me feel bad about myself? But it did. Why was I considered inferior to Miley anyway? Actually, I know why. Probably because she's prettier, funnier, more talented, more charismatic, the list goes on. I think about that for a while before I realize that I'm crying. My makeup is running down my cheeks, my eyes are red and puffy. That's attractive. Now I have to see Nick looking like this. Great. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell him to wait for me at my house, but how was I supposed to know I would come home an emotional wreck?
When I park my car in my spot, I do my best to fix my face with the overhead mirror and an extra tissue that I found in my glove compartment. I take one more look and decide that I did all I could. The redness and swelling would go down in a little while. Whatever. Here I go.
I step out of the elevator into my apartment and see Nick in the living room looking at some pictures on the wall. I set down my jacket and he looks at me, smiling.
"Hey Dem-" his face drops. He sees my puffy red eyes. I can't hide it now. "What's wrong baby?" he says as he quickly makes his way over to me.
"Nothing, I'm fine." I say as I look down.
"Demi."
"No really," I force a smile. "Please talk to me," jeez he's persistent. "Honestly, Nick, I'm okay."
He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can I'm over by the T.V., looking for a movie. "So Nick, Titanic or The Truman Show?"
He sighs "Truman Show, I guess." He gave up. Yes. "Okay," I say as I pop the DVD into the player.
To be honest, watching a movie with Nick did help me to forget about today. He really is so sweet and nice. And really sexy. Especially when he wears his hair like that, and when he concentrates... kinda like he's doing right now. I grab his hand with my own and he immediately intertwines our fingers and swings his arm around my shoulder, so that my arm is stretched across my chest. I lean into him a little more. I look up to smile at him and find myself leaning in... what am I doing? I can't do this. But I want to so, so bad. I don't have much time to debate it with myself, because soon his soft pink lips are on mine. Light at first, then he slides his tongue against my lips and I open my mouth. Soon our tongues are rubbing against each other, in a heated battle for dominance. We ever so slowly Lean back on my couch so that he's hovering over me. He kisses down my jaw line to my neck, then nips my collar bone lightly and I let out a small moan. His hands on my waist slide under me slowly and rub under my shirt until he reaches my bra. He's still kissing my neck and I moan softly to let him know that it's okay. He unhooks my bra and rubs my bare back. His hands slowly make their way closer to my chest-
Wait- WHAT IS HAPPENING THIS IS NOT OKAY! How did I let it get this far! I grab his hands and gently push him away. "I can't do this. This is so wrong. I don't want to hurt anyone and I have no idea how I let it get that far. I hate myself for doing this. I can't believe-" I ramble on and on until I've broken into hysterics and I'm crying again. "Hey! Dem it's okay! Everything's okay, baby!" he says pulling me to him.
" No! It's not fine! What about Joe? He's your brother! And what about Miley! She's my best friend! And she's who you should be with. She's better than me!"
"Hey! Where the hell did you get the idea that Miley's better than you?"
"Well it's true isn't it? She's prettier and more talented and-"
" No, Demi! You're so beautiful and you don't even know it! And you're so incredibly talented I can't even believe it! You're absolutely perfect and I love you! Don't go to that place Dem, you're so special, please believe me."
By now I've calmed down quite a bit, but I say "Then why was she being hounded by photographers while I stood by myself, ignored?"
He just looks confused. "Look, I'm sorry I'm such a mess tonight. You should go. I'll see you at rehearsal." I walk toward the stairs, leaving a confused Nick sitting on my couch. Poor guy. He didn't do anything, but he still has to deal with all of this. I don't deserve him. A/N: Okay so I hope you liked it! That little part when they leave the restaurant is based off of that video of them leaving a restaurant and Miley being swarmed and getting upset while Demi is ignored. I thought it would fit pretty well with where I'm going with this story. Anyway I can probably stop rambling now. REVIEW PLEASE! 3