[Y/N and Demi are best friends in high school. Both are 17 years old. Demi isn't famous.]
Y/N's POV
Just another day of Demi rambling on about how much she needs to win the beauty pageant that's coming up this Saturday.
How she is also so desperate to get a hot boyfriend.
How she wants to loose her virginity.
All I ever hear about these days is her and what she wants, needs and if I could help her do something or have revenge on someone who did her wrong in middle school.
She used to be so selfless and humble. She'd do anything to keep the attention off of her.
How things have changed now.
I usually wouldn't mind her talking about what she's up to but when she talks about boyfriends and loosing her virginity, it just makes me jealous.
But it's not like I'm gay or anything.
I don't go checking other girls out in the changing rooms or anything, unless it's to see if someone's boobs are bigger than mine or if- you get the point.
But Demi, she's different.
I don't know what it is but I get so jealous.
"Oii, Y/N! Your girlfriends seems pretty stressed out in the bathroom!" One of the footballers, Matt, shouted from across the halls, walking over to me with his friends who chuckled behind him.
"Girlfri- who are you on about?" I ask confused.
"You know, your girlfriend." He wiggles his eyebrows before winking. I make a face of disgust in return.
"I'm not gay." I protest. "Besides, Who?" I ask.
"Sure." He rolls his eyes. "And it's Demi. Demi Lesbato." They all laugh as I curse under my breath, grabbing my bag from the locker and speeding to the girls' bathroom.
"Demi?!" I shout, running in. "Demi?" I repeat, hearing whimpers from the only closed stall. I knock but get completely ignored. "I-I'm coming in." I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut.
As the door slowly open, I see Demi crying on the floor, hugging her knees.
"I can't do it." She whimpers.
I slide next to her, pulling her head to my chest, resting my cheek against her wavy hair.
"What can't you do?" I whisper, stroking her hair, taking in her sweet scent.
"The pageant." She gets out.
"Why not? You've been preparing for it for weeks, why back out now? You were so excited." I ask beyond confused.
For as long as she knew the pageant existed, she would not shut up about it.
"Lexi's in it now." She sobs.
"Okay?..."
"She's so much prettier and slimmer. I've got no chances." She confesses.
"Are you crazy?" I pull away from her, inspecting her face to see if she was joking but her puffy, red eyes proved otherwise.
"No, I'm rational."
"Demetria, you're fucking beautiful, you've got killer curves and luscious hair, natural beauty that definitely doesn't need make up, how could you even think otherwise?!" I exclaim.
"How can I not, have you seen me? I'm a fucking troll!" She shouts, breaking into more sobs.
"Shh. Calm down. You're not a troll, you're beautiful and I have seen you. I've seen you at your worst, your best, your weirdest and yet I still think you're beyond gorgeous." I say.
