That word is love (Demi Lovato fanfic)

That Word Is Love: Chapter 18

That Word Is Love: Chapter 18

This is going to be a short chapter (very short). It's pretty much the last of the filler chapters so... you know. You've been warned. The next ten chapters at least are going to be bam-bam-bam breadcrumbs or action everywhere. Alsoooooooo there are in total three subtle-ish breadcrumbs and two obvious-as-hell breadcrumbs that will be dropped. See if you can pick them all up before Simon (or someone else) does.

One last thing- I changed the format of the show so the elimination happens on the same show as the performances. Previous parts can be found here.

COMPETITION WEEK 2- FRIDAY (LIVE SHOWS)

"Demi!" The make-up artist was calling me, and I hurried to the other side of the greenroom. The room was filled with people bustling around, setting up racks of clothes and holding tape measures against contestants while sticking pins into their hair.

"Yeah?" Woah. I narrowly avoided tripping straight over a stack of shoes laying haphazardly on the ground, managing to catch myself on the back of a chair before I fell right into Layla's makeup artist- who, I was sure, would not appreciate me messing up the line of liquid eyeliner she was currently drawing.

"Sit." Hanna, one of the makeup artists from Eastern Europe, pushed me into a chair firmly. "And don't move."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, letting a bit of sass sneak into my tone. Layla, in the seat next to me, hid a grin as Hanna swiped my nose with a brush.

"No cheek from you, young lady, or you might just end up going out there looking like Dracula's bride," Layla teased me, imitating Hanna, who laughed and shook her head in a pretense of disapproval.

"I'm glad I don't have rude children like you two," she scolded, wagging a finger at us. "Although..."

Layla pounced on it, eyes gleaming with the sparkle of someone who thrives on information. "What? Although what?"

"Hey, you're a child," Hanna said. "If you think I'm going to talk about my possible pregnancy with you..."

"I'm 18," she scoffed, and then her eyes widened, as did mine. "Oh my God!"

"You're pregnant?" I squealed, turning around in my chair and giving her a quick squeeze. "Congratulations!"

"Hush, girls," Hanna said, casting a furtive glance around the room, although I doubted anyone cared enough to listen or spread the rumour. "It's not confirmed. The test was inconclusive."

"What test?" I asked. "You went to the doctor?"

"No, idiot," Layla said. "She probably took one of those at-home pregnancy tests."

"Yeah." Hanna nodded in agreement before motioning at me to close my eyes while she dusted shadow over my lids. "We're going smoky today, yeah Demi?"

"Sure."

"So what did the test say?" Layla pressed, and Hanna straightened, smiling at her.

"You thrive on gossip, don't you?" Layla shrugged, a guilty grin appearing on her face. "There were 1.5 lines."

"On what?" I asked, still not quite clear what type of test they were talking about. I'd read books, of course, but only a few. And my television access was little to none. With no friends to speak of, that gave me very limited knowledge of the world beyond anything I'd learned in school.

"The little stick, of course," Hanna said. "You're slow today."

"Oh, right." I understood now. "One of those little stick tests where it shows two lines or one?"