Demi Lovato Imagines

Crash

"Y/n?"

At the distinct quiver in her voice, you sit up straighter, holding the phone tighter to your ear. 

"Yeah? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Your other hand hovers over the keys of your laptop, skin warm from the heat of the machine. The cursor blinks at the end of the eight-page document you've been working on all afternoon. 

"I-I'm fine, I just...There's been an accident..."

"Accident? What do you mean? Where? When?"

The words race out your mouth before you've even heard them in your head. Saliva collects under your tongue making them sticky, perhaps incoherent through a dodgy signal. Despite sitting on the sofa, a prickle of sweat beads behind your neck. 

"I'm at the...uh...I'm at the junction going t-towards mom's...the one without the lights..."

You know exactly where she is. You often drive the back road over to Dianna's as you enjoy looking out over the expansive fields of green and gold where the rapeseed makes up whole acres of land. There are no speed cameras that way, though, and you're guilty yourself of accelerating along the long stretch without giving it a second thought. 

"I'm on my way," you tell her, closing the laptop and rushing over to the front door. It's a warm evening and so the close air doesn't bother you in your Capri leggings and t-shirt. Even so, you throw a cable-knit into the back of your red Volkswagon Beetle, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the ignition. 

"Just stay where you are, Dems," you order into the phone that's sitting in the cupholder, now on speaker. But as you pull out of the drive, the streetlamps slowly starting to glow orange, you only hear faint crackling on the other end. And just before the call cuts off, you hear the sound of a man's voice in the distance, too far away for you to discern any words. 

Shifting up a gear, you force your brain to worry about the essay you realise you forgot to save instead of what you're going to find on that country road. 

***

You see the Mercedes-Benz up ahead, nose deep in the dusty roadside. There's another car just in front, a silver saloon of some sort. There's a large dent carved into the side of it and the driver's window is shattered. You slam on the breaks. 

"Demi!" you shout, running forward towards both vehicles. From a distance, her car appears to be unharmed yet as you get closer, you see how the front of it is scratched suggesting she must have slammed into the side of the other one. "Demi?!"

"I'm here," you hear her croak and you snap your head to the passenger side of her car. A man who you don't recognise stands, his head crowning over the metal roof and giving you an expression you can't read. 

"Um..."

"Your girlfriend's here," he says, pointing his eyes downwards. You immediately circle around the front, seeing Demi sitting sideways on the seat, shaking legs dangling out onto the rusty soil. 

"Oh my God," you sigh, "I'm so glad you're--...are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You slide your hands down her arms and around the back of her neck - feeling for what, you don't know. But she seems apparently unharmed and so you exhale, resting your forehead on her knees. Her cool skin highlights how hot yours is. 

"I, uh, I think she's fine," the man speaks, and it's only now that you recognise it as the same one from the phone. "I'm a medic student and, uh, I did all the checks...reflexes, ...fractures, ...she, uh, she doesn't seem to be concussed..."