Excitement was the first emotion to course through the brunette’s veins when she was told that she would be attending the Top Shop walk in London. She hadn’t quite expected it, even if she was the current face of the fashion store. Demi hobbled around all morning throwing only her finest leathers into her suitcase, filling it to the brim with anything that screamed ‘badass retro chic’. The plane ride was bland and uncomfortable but she hadn’t really expected anything else. After all, even though she was a frequently-talked about celebrity, she hadn’t reached private jet status just yet. It was something she came to terms with early last year, in fact - it happened to be a part of her new years resolution; get to private jet status. To mingle with A-list celebs, and have candids of her eating the most expensive caviar on the menu with Beyonce and Jay-Z. The idea could’ve been far-fetched at that current moment in time, but Demi was known for putting her foot to the pedal and going all the way with her dreams.
Upon arrival at the beautiful city, Demi quickly settled into her hotel room - resting upon the lovely goose-down bed and reveling in the feeling of being across the pond. It’d been a while since she was in the UK, and the last time she was here wasn’t exactly on the best occasion. Just the mere thought of what went down a few months prior made her blood boil with humiliation and anger, eyes pricking with fresh tears. She found it comical in a sad way, she had never been the type to dwell over a relationship lost. Write a song, go shopping, and find a new guy - were the sure steps on how to get over it. But for some reason she couldn’t let them go, she couldn’t let him go. There was just something about the way he held her that made everything alright again. The way he didn’t care that they were never supposed to be together, she was off-limits and something about that made a fire erupt inside of his bones. He needed to have her, and for a short while he did. All good things must come to an end eventually, and the couple soon crashed and burned. Wiping the tears from her eyes furiously, she swung her legs over the edge of her bed - her studded cast bootie making a clang as it hit the wooden frame. “Stop thinking about him, you fucking idiot. He’s not thinking about you.”
A knock from the door way brought her out of her thoughts, her manager Fatima giving her the once-over. “You ready to go?” She questioned lowly, not sure whether to address what she walked into seconds prior. Demi nodded her head slowly, the corners of her lips tugging upwards in what could only be described as a pained smile. Reaching over to grab her crutches, a huff left her parted lips as she leaned over them, hopping over to the door. Although her team had requested a room on the bottom floor, the hotel staff were quick to let them know that they were booked all the way through, and the only rooms they had open were on the sixteenth floor. It wasn’t as big a deal as everyone made it out to b, but in the case of an emergency - Demi wouldn’t be able to run down sixteen flights of stairs to safety, even though that was the last thing on her mind. She was far more worried about running into her ex romeo. They led the brunette to her expensive vehicle, holding the door open as she slid across the leather seating. Her manager took the seat beside her typing feverishly. Demi turned her head to try to glance at what was being typed on the screen but Fatima quickly moved her hand to cover the text, shooting the starlet a panicked grin. She shook the strange behavior off, and leaned her head against the cold seat, eyes slowly fluttering shut as the car went into motion.
What felt likes age later, she was awoken from her slumber - Fatima letting her know that they had arrived at the building. It was a bit of a struggle to get out of the car and onto her crutches, but she managed like every time before and began wobbling her way towards the red carpet area. Brown hues twinkled with every intense flash of the camera, as she stood in front of the photographers, trying to differentiate what they were saying as they all yelled at her, fighting for the better shot. After the allotted time, she was ushered into the backstage area where her team mingled with every model and designer in sight, leaving the young female to her own devices which consisted of staring at all the clothes on the rack. They’d ask her a question every now and then to which she would nod in response not really sure what was being asked in the first place. “Alright, let’s go sit down.” Fatima whispered lowly, an unreadable emotion plastered across her features. Demi followed behind her slowly, eyes locked on the floor as she made sure not to miss a step. If she was clumsy with two legs she could only imagine what type of chaos she could cause with only one.
