The flood of emails and tweets were overwhelming. Whether it was Demi's social accounts or yours, the sheer disbelief that she and you were together caused everyone to go into some kind of mass frenzy. After only a few hours since your announcement on the Ellen show, you already had a ship name and fan accounts. "(y/n shipped the Demi's), that's what they are calling us?" Demi giggled in amusement. This wasn't the first ship name Demi had developed. Some of the other ones were: Nemi, Niall, and Dilmer. However, this was your very first ship name and even though Demi found it cheesy, you found it quite endearing.
The rest of the day flew by quickly, and the sunset soon starting encroaching. Demi continued to fiddle with her computer keys and notepad paper. Hours have passed and she has not left that computer bench. You stood and padded over to where she worked. The white notepad paper that her pen scribbled on was filled with uncompressible words and mistakes. Her orbs worked, staring deeply into the luminous computer screen. Leaning against the desk, your eyes studied her. She didn't budge nor acknowledge your presence; solely consumed in ones' work. Your fingers drugged across the desk and unto the keyboard where her hands rested. Demi's eyes squinted slightly forcing her focus on the work at hand. Her hand began to tap on the keys moving yours to the side. You called her softly making the whininess in your voice ever so present. Her eyes flickered to you and back to the screen just as quickly. "Yes love?"
Draping her arm around your body, you found room on her lap. "You are supposed to be spending time with me remember?" Demi continued to type slightly, "After I finish this (y/n)" Her voice mumbled carelessly. The one thing that you used to admire about Demi was how devoted she is to her craft. Consequently, her involvement with the outer world, caused her attention for her friends and family to suffer. Currently Demi is working on some form of inspirational novel. This is a secret project she has been developing for weeks. "Let's get something to eat." You suggested. "Later." She waved off.
You continued to complain and whined about how of a crappy girlfriend she was being right now. She started to type quicker adding more pressure to each key stroke. Were you upsetting her? Good. Your words got more rapid, you even began to lose understanding on what you were even complaining on about.
Her next move was unexpected and slightly frightening. Demi quickly wrapped her arms around your waist and fell to the ground. You were trapped under her weight as she tickled you furiously. "You want my attention (y/n), huh?" she teased. You fought for a breath, "Stop!" She persisted being as relentless as possible while adding kisses into the tickle attack. "I'm here (y/n), all for you." You cried a plea of surrender, "Okay, Okay!" After a few moments she relinquished her grasp and flopped breathless next to you; you both laughed. "Food, you said? How about that Italian bar you love?" You both quickly settled on a place and got ready.
The car pulled up into the parking valet and Demi acknowledged something, "This is our first time going out as an official couple." Before you could verify her statement with a response, the flood of photographers approached the car. "Shit, when did they come?" Demi cursed. A veil of annoyance covered Demi's face. "We can go somewhere else." You tried. Demi hushed, "No, no you wanted to eat here." Before you could attest, Demi hastened out of the car. The shimmer of the camera left a blinding glare through the window shield. "Demi...Demi!" the loud screaming from the paparazzi prevailed. I could feel the car began to shake as people were pushed against yet. Suddenly, car door opened and a soft hand grabbed you. Demi covered her body over yours, guiding you both through the crowd. The feeling of warm air and a quieter environment showed that we made it into restaurant. You lifted your head from Demi's jacket as the host greeted, "We have a table waiting Ms.Lovato."
A table with a small light candle was presented. The waiter got you and Demi's orders and left a basket of warm bread on the table. "I never have seen a crowd that big." Demi talked to herself. "Somebody else must be here then." You suggested. We scanned but no other celebrities were in sight. You leaned your head on her shoulder, "It's only going get worse isn't it?" You felt her nod slowly, knowing the answer instantly. Why must people have to infringe on others' lives to sustain a job. Knowing from now on your every move will be blogged, journaled, or photographed is intimidating. Of course you have experienced this before, but over the years it has died down, only to rise up again.
The rest of the dinner went by peacefully and you both managed to leave the place in one piece. You and Demi's stomachs were full; eyes tired. A movie played while you snuggled under the covers with Demi. Subsequently, as your eyes began to fall the doorbell rang. Exhausted and slightly annoyed that someone would be here so late at night. You tossed the covers off your feet and shuffled to the door while Demi resumed fast asleep. With a swift motion you unlocked the door and stood before me was a tall and handsome who wore a long trench coat and roses. He quickly flickered a nervous smile and that's when it came to you. "Wilmer Valderama, what are you doing here?" He stuttered over his words unable to ease the nervousness that clearly showed on his face. "Hey (y/n), I came to see Demi." Immediately your mind began to race with answers as to his reason of being here.
