The last sunshine
The next free Saturday that all four of us -Dylan, Nate, Demi and myself- was two weeks after cleaning up Dylan's place. In the time between then and now, Dylan has managed to not drink anything. Probably because when he tried one night Monica called Jenny and twenty minutes after that I heard them stomping around and screaming at Dylan. It was decided he would stay there for a month like a sobriety house. Meanwhile, Monica practically took a sledgehammer to his place looking for any traces of alcohol. This all occurred at approximately 2:3o am according to my phone. I would say it was quite dark at the time.
That Saturday morning, I was abruptly awoken by my door being knocked on to a softness that was pitter patter of rain on my window in my dream that got progressed to a point of the FBI barging through my bedroom door while Demi screamed bloody murder. The strange thing is I shouldn't have heard anything at all, it turned out that I was witnessing all this in spirit. When the FBI ran in and knelt in front of me I looked to find myself dead and surrounded in a pool of blood. When I did come back to my own body, Demi was screaming. However it was in urgency rather than horror.
I sighed and got up, not bothering to put pants on, and stumbled my way to the door. "What?" I asked when I swung the door open. Instead of telling me why she was practically beating up my door she walked into my apartment. I saw her mouth moving but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy gawking at her fitted workout clothes.
"Hello", Demi said with a knowing smile, "I know you like my hooters and I don't mind you looking but listen to me".
"I know, I know", I respond, wrapping my arm around her waist, "now tell me darling. Why the fuck are you waking me up. I thought you loved me".
"You know I do", she rubs her nose against my cheek, "but it's almost noon and I figured I should get your lazy ass up so I can have some time with you before we go out with the boys tonight".
I chuckle softly, letting the sounds come out in wisps while I walk to the kitchen. "I can make food now".
"Oh really? I'm impressed, I can't".
"Well not anything that requires skill, but I can do cereal and sandwiches and microwave soup without help". As I say this I pour the milk over my cereal. I don't know which it is, but I'll find out when I taste it. Demi wraps her arms around me and steals my spoon.
"Mm", she hums, "you're the next Julia Child".
We both laugh. "Hardly. Maybe after Dylan teaches me how to throw balls a can play a sport and be a millionaire".
"I thought balls weren't your thing".
"Well they weren't but now I can see so-hey that's dirty!"
"Plus, why would you need to be a millionaire? You got me".
"I want to be independent for once in my life. I haven't been able to support myself since the day I was born".
She let up after that, rubbing my back gently and kissing the back of my neck innocently before I sat in front of the tv and dug up a Hannah Montana rerun. Sometimes reliving childhood is nice. It reminds me of the simple things. After I was done eating and laughing at the show while Demi was totally unamused, I was followed to my room.
"I hope you don't mind I change here. I didn't want to go back home when I have perfectly good clothes here", she stated. Then she proceeded to take off her tank top, her toned stomach showing in all its tanned glory.
"Y-yeah, that's fine". I got my clothes and turned around, trying to pretend I don't hear her behind me as I put my clothes on. She's gorgeous, I knew that. I've felt her naked, but I haven't seen anything. I just get uncomfortable. I can't even think about my own body without being self conscious. I'm not fat, I'm actually a stick with minimal strength and flexibility. I've been blessed with a fast metabolism my entire life, but Dylan injured himself at the gym when we were teens and I've been afraid to go ever since.
Demi takes my hand. "Come on. We can go clothes shopping if you want. You can get stuff you like". Then I follow, and with farm fresh and made sandwiches in hand we head to a nameless store.
The drive itself was uneventful. The most interesting thing that happened was when 'Hotline Bling' by Drake came on and the two of us pretended we could rap. We can't do much, but we pretend, and that's good enough for us. Demi's pinky was the only part of her that that was brave enough to wrap itself around me, dropping all defenses.
That's all that stayed too, every other touch was an accident. I'd pretty much had enough. It's nice she's cautious, but this is paranoia. If her arm brushes mine she apologizes. When she shows me a nice flannel we both know I'd live in for a while and her hand touches my lower back, she jumps. My spine has become a live wire. If I am touched, she is electrocuted. I wasn't feeling like telling would do much good. She'd shy away through mumbles. So I kissed her right then and there, where everyone could see and feel the passion I had for this girl. Demi wrapped her arms around me and pushed against my lips before I pulled away.
"Demi, sweetheart. I know you're worried about hurting me again, even though it didn't hurt-"
"I did hurt you. Not physically but in your head I essentially stabbed a fork into your illness".
"My point is", I redirect, "touch me, kiss me, love me. Just don't make any sexual advances".
"So no booty for me"?
I smile, "not quite, Lovato. In due time".
----------------------------------------------so last chapter of my other Demi story is in the works, sad but exciting. Any of you want another Demi story or something let me know!!
Ps: this will be the last (or second to) calm chapter. I say that way to much.
Shout out to Anna because she's cool af. And shout out to Zara because she's ma' boo lol.
Vote, comment, share and follow if you like