Oh, no, here we are. Can't believe the timing, yesterday you're smiling. I guess we both played our parts, very entertaining....
Demi's POV - Present Day:
As soon as I arrive at the red carpet event, a swarm of invasive idiots surround my car. I'm ninety percent sure they don't even know which celebrity I am, yet their cameras are already flashing. I'm going to have a headache before I even enter the building.
"Fuck, I'm already regretting this."
My bodyguard chuckles from the driver seat and turns around to face me. "Do you want to try circling around the block? See if they've dispersed by the time we come back?"
Begrudgingly, I shake my head. "Let this be a reminder why I don't do award shows."
Another black car, no doubt containing another annoyed celebrity who would rather be anywhere else, pulls up behind us.
"Try to not let your fears ruin your night, Miss Lovato."
"Thanks, Buddha," I joke before allowing him to exit the vehicle and approach the mob of paparazzi.
As soon as he opens my door, I feel as if I have been sucked into a vacuum of paparazzi shouting my name and asking me stupid questions and clicking their damn cameras. I let my bodyguard shield me as much as possible and create a path towards the entrance, but even he doesn't make me impenetrable to their nosy attacks. They question my sobriety, if I'm going to win my nomination, how I'm feeling about my performance tonight. I clench my jaw and steel my gaze, as if doing so will prevent smartass comments and truthful answers from writing tomorrow's headlines. God, how are we not in the building yet?
"Is it true you two hate each other now?" Ah, for once, a question that catches me off guard completely. The paparazzi's voice comes from behind me, but when I turn around, I see nothing but platinum blonde hair and leather. She dyed her hair - and since when does she wear leather to an event like this? Or anything that short.
As soon as we enter the building, her hand is around my wrist and she's dragging me to a quiet bubble within the constant coming and going crowd.
"What the hell, Selena?" I yank my arm out of her grasp as if she burned me. "Don't touch me."
"So you're still acting as if you hate me?" She rolls her eyes. "Look, can we just talk for a minute?"
My eyes dart around at all of the famous faces in shiny, expensive gowns and crisp tuxedos. "You want to talk now? Here?"
"I'm ready to talk now, D. I want you in my life still. Please, can I just have a chance to explain?"
"You've had a month to explain, Selena. You're the one who chose to never call or text or visit. You're the one who fucked up, not me. Don't you dare try to pin the blame on me and make me look like the shitty person here just because you're full of regret."
"But that's the thing," she envelopes my hands in hers and squeezes them tighter when I try to pull away; her brown eyes are frantic and urgent when they meet mine as if she's begging me to not escape, "I don't regret anything. Not a single moment of it all. Please, can we just talk about it?"
But it's such a shame that we lost our way from the nights we danced, the bands were playing. I say I'm over you, but I'm not sure that it's true....
Demi's POV - Five Months Ago
"I can't believe I am letting you drag me out to a club," I complained at Selena through my bathroom door. "Do you realize how long it's been since I've been to one?"
