Demi Lovato Imagines

Meeting

Your ponytail is too tight. You've got a headache.

"Hey, Y/n, you okay?" Jordan asks, passing you in the corridor and pressing her palm against Demi's door.

"Yeah, um, I'm just waiting for a meeting," you say, wiping your forehead with the side of your hand.

"You sure? You look a bit peaky..." she trails off, examining your face. You can feel the colour draining out of your skin as your stomach lurches.

"M'fine," you swallow.

"Okay...well, Demi just has to go over some things first...Is that okay?"

You glance down at your watch, pretending you hadn't just been counting each minute that drags by.

"Yeah, of course, the meeting's not until half past. Go ahead," you smile. Or grimace, or whatever. She takes it as her cue and walks inside.

You want to stride right back down the length of the corridor and back to your room, to forget about this stupid meeting. What are you supposed to say, anyway? Oh yeah, Demi, just to let you know...I'm pregnant so can't be here at the end of the European leg...Oh, and by the way, it's Kris' baby...? That'll get you fired on the spot, especially considering you were one of the first few people on the team that found out about the thing between Demi and Kris. Not that it wasn't obvious to everyone on the tour bus already but still. You remember the way her cheeks blushed pink when she mentioned it that night, holding your legs across her lap, twirling your hair around her finger. She had just finished telling you about how she would invite you round for Thanksgiving at the end of the year considering your own family arrangements were, as usual, non-existent. And you had just tried to interrupt her saying that it was fine; and you were fine; and that there was really no need for her to go out of her way to accommodate you just because your mom doesn't pick up her phone anymore and your dad ran away to England with his new fiance.

"Don't be silly, honey, of course you're welcome! Anytime!"

"Honestly, Demi, you want to be with your family and--"

"Shush-" she cuts you off, pressing a finger against your lips, "That's enough. You're coming. Besides..." she lowers her voice, leaning further against you, "...You might not be the only one there from this bus..."

Your brow crinkles. She puts her mouth right to your ear.

"Kris might also be getting an invite," she whispers before jumping back quickly, acting as if she hadn't said anything.

"I--"

"No one is to know," she quickly squeals, gripping the front of your shirt in a pretend threat. Her face is cut in half by a wide grin. Her eyes sparkle.

"'Kay," you hum, going along with the act.

By the end of the week, everyone knew. But it kind of made you feel special to know that you were one of the first. You were one she trusted.

In about four and a half minutes, you won't be able to say the same thing.

Maybe if you just miss out the whole thing about who the father is? That way your relationship with Demi won't be ruined. It's not like she's going to ask for a DNA test or anything. You would think that falls somewhere outwith your contract of obligations as tour bass player, to say the least. You'll be off on maternity leave in a few months anyway so it could work...? But the thought of lying to Demi makes your skin crawl. She's fully taken you under her wing while travelling around the country so the least you can do is be honest, right?

Right.

You're not sure if that includes the whole part about you and Kris both being completely wasted that night and having a one-night-stand you can't even fully remember.