~Bailey's POV~
The three of us rush to Jordan's room and find her standing in the middle of her bathroom.
"You're not dead." I observe. "Why were you screaming?"
"I, uh, I saw a spider."
"You nearly gave us heart attacks over a spider? Seriously?"
"It was a big spider."
The doorbell rings, directing our attention elsewhere.
"I'll go get the door," Nick leaves.
"Jordan, try not to scare me like that again, please?" Demi weakly smiles, and Jordan nods.
"Okay, why were you really screaming?" I ask once Demi has left.
She nibbles on her bottom lip and steps to the side. The shimmering piece of metal immediately catches my attention.
"What the hell-,"
"Your phone case," she interrupts. "We have the same phone case."
My heart beats painfully underneath my skin. I find it difficult to swallow. I want to run, to run away from my problems like I always do. How could I have been so stupid?
"Have you ever-,"
"No," I sternly deny. "I've thought about it before, but I've never actually used it. Look at my arms," I show her my cut-free arms, mentally applauding at my quick thinking.
"Well, okay," she doesn't sound very convinced.
I smile reassuringly.
"May I have my phone back, please?" I force a giggle.
"Promise me that you won't ever harm yourself," she returns my phone to me.
"Promise," I shove it into my back pocket and watch as she tosses my blade into her trashcan. "Who do you think is downstairs?" I change the subject.
"I dunno," she shrugs.
"Wanna go snoop?"
"Sure. It's not like I've got anything better to do."
We peer over the banister of the stairs to see who's in the living room.
"Holy shit," my jaw drops, recognizing the people from all of the research that I've done on Demi.
"I haven't seen them in, well, ever," Jordan murmurs.
"We can hear you, Jordan, and you, too, Bailey," Demi informs, and we duck as she looks up.
"Um, no," I clear my throat. "We're ghosts, thank you very much. We do not know of this Bailey and Jordan in which you speak of."
I elbow Jordan as she begins to giggle.
"Would you two just hurry up and walk down here?"
"We ghosts prefer to float and hover."
My heart jumps into my throat when I feel two arms hoist me up into the air from behind. I can smell his cologne. He dangles me over the banister.
"Holy fuck, Nick, put me down!"
"Nah, I'm good."
"Demi!"
"No, I'm not helping you," she laughs.
I yelp as his grip slacks slightly.
"Oh my gosh, Nick, put me down!"
He chuckles before returning me to my feet.
"I hate you," I stomp down the stairs with Jordan trailing less aggressively behind.
Demi's parents and her younger sister, Madison, stand in the living room watching us.
"You're Jordan, yes?" Eddie points at me, his tone uncertain.
"Um, no," I almost laugh. "And the fact that you have to ask is really sad," I plop down on the couch, knowing that this conversation is about to get very interesting.
"So, you're Jordan?" Eddie looks at Jordan who nods. "We haven't seen you since you were like this," he holds his two hands together with a gap in between, representing a baby.
"Are you Nick's daughter?" Dianna questions me.
"Oh, I'm Nick's daughter alright," I snort.
"She's my daughter, mom," Demi interjects.
"But she just said-,"
"She's Nick's daughter, too," Demi rolls her eyes.
"Welcome to Crash Course: Biology. What happens when two people-," I'm silenced by Jordan throwing a pillow at my face. "You could've just told me to shut up."
"Hold up," Madison raises her hands. "When?"
"Fourteen years ago on the back of a tour bus," I examine my chewed nails. "What?" I arch an eyebrow as Demi grimaces. "Am I wrong?" She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
The doorbell abruptly chimes.
"Saved by the bell," I jump up and answer the door.
"You've got to be kidding me," I groan. "Demi, I swear I'm going to run him over and plead insanity," I return to the couch, leaving the door wide open.
"How did I know that I'd find you here, Demi?" Wilmer inquires, shutting the door behind him.
"Maybe because Nick's not the one that I'm pinning divorce papers against," She retorts.
"You two are getting a divorce?" Madison gapes. "But why? You two are perfect together."
"Perfect?" Demi incredulously echoes. "I must be a better actress than what those award shows give me credit for," she rolls her eyes. "And none of ya'll have been here," she points out to her family. "How would you know?"
"I'm assuming-,"
"Then you're assumptions are inaccurate," Demi interrupts her younger sister. "Let me put it this way, Madison," she approaches the younger woman. "If a guy were to ever, God forbid, put his hands on you or cheat on you, what would you do?"
"I wouldn't tolerate it. I'd leave him."
"Exactly."
Madison's face gradually becomes pale as Demi backs away from her.
"You hit my daughter?" Eddie clarifies, surprisingly not sounding angry, more like disbelievingly.
"What?" Demi scoffs. "Is it that difficult to believe that he's perfectly capable of smacking me around a couple of times?" I cringe at her bluntness. "Maybe I do actually seem to have my shit together."
"Demi?" Wilmer interjects.
"What?"
"May I speak with you outside?"
Glancing at her family who all have been stunned into silence, she nods and follows him out the front door.
"What an interesting way to meet the family," I mutter, watching Wilmer and Demi through the window.
"We have a lot to discuss," Dianna voices.
"Yeah, no shit," I snort.
Through my peripheral vision, I notice her watch me in slight appallment. I sigh.
"My name," I pause, thinking about all of the newfound options I have as far as a last name goes. "My name is Hailey Ariana Lovato-Jonas, but if you call me Hailey, I will bite you. I go by Bailey, a name that I picked out for myself years ago. I curse worse than a sailor, so get use to it. Take me for how I am or leave me, I really don't care either way."
Returning my attention to the window, I see Demi yelling at Wilmer, but I'm unable to hear anything. My eyes widen as I see him roughly shove her against the house.
"Nick!"
He's already halfway out the front door. I watch, horrified, as Wilmer backhands Demi. Nick charges towards Wilmer, but, unlike what I would've done in his position, doesn't hit him. Surprised at the fact that my vision is blurring from tears, I turn away from the window, direct my gaze away from everybody while allowing my hair to shield my face, and blink rapidly. Moments later, I hear the front door open and close.
"I'm fine, Nick," Demi insists, sounding annoyed, as if she has been repeating the same statement over and over again.
I lift my gaze, peeking through my veil of dark brown hair. Demi claims a seat on the sofa-chair as Nick heads for the kitchen, returning with something wrapped in a paper towel.
"I don't need any ice," she tells him.
He doesn't listen, continuing to stand with his arm outstretched. She sighs and rolls her eyes, begrudgingly accepting the ice.
"It doesn't even hurt," she grumbles, then hisses as the ice touches her red cheek.
"Careful," he murmurs, gently taking her arm and reapplying the ice himself. "You're an awful liar sometimes," he comments, eliciting another eye roll from her.
I flicker my gaze away as his eyes move to me.
"Bay," I can hear him approaching me, and I swear that I can feel everyone else watching me.
He tucks my hair behind my ear, and I frown.
"Are you crying?"
"No," I mentally curse at how congested my voice sounds from holding back tears.
"You sure about that?"
"Yes. I have allergies."
"To what?"
"Cats," I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"I don't own a cat."
"Pollen."
"You're indoors."
"Dust."
"You were fine at my house," Demi interjects. "And I'm pretty sure I clean less than Nick."
"Know-it-alls," I groan. "I'm allergic to know-it-alls."
"It's okay to cry, y'know," Nick smirks.
"I don't cry. I sweat."
"From you eyes?"
"Precisely."
"Demi," he turns away from me. "She lies like you do."
"That can be really good for us, or that can be the worst thing ever."
"I'm a horrible liar," I falsely reassure. "You two have nothing to worry about."
"I don't know about that," Madison chimes.
"Madison's right," Eddie pipes up. "We have a lot to talk about."
"I don't-," the doorbell silences Demi.
"Jeez, Nick, how many people know where you live?" I grumble, walking towards the door.
I open the door, revealing a familiar face: Dallas, Demi's older sister.
"Hi," she greets, then frowns with her eyebrows furrowed. "You're not Nick."
"So I've realized."
As if suddenly remembering something, she rolls her eyes and turns around.
"Sara!" She shouts. "Hurry up!"
At first, I think that she's crazy, but then I see someone step out the passenger side of a silver car.
"Sorry, Dal!" The girl, seemingly around my age, hastily apologizes, her tone slightly nasally, but more so in a cute, adorable way rather than annoyingly so. "I dropped my phone," she raises her hand, flashing a girly teddy-bear-shaped phone case.
Sara, I'm assuming, is tall. Although she wears lime green athletic shoes on her feet, she still must be at least four inches taller than me, and I'm only about four inches over five feet. Her outfit, in contrast to her phone case, is sporty and casual: a loose grey crop top and black Nike sweatpants. Her skin is a golden tan, her face make-up free, and her blonde hair is yanked back in a messy ponytail. She's really really pretty, gorgeous even, and I don't even think she's trying.
"You're so clumsy," Dallas rolls her eyes.
"I know. Hi, I'm Sara," she introduces herself to me.
"Bailey."
"Cool name," she smiles.
"Thanks. Nick, you have guests," I hold the door open for them and shut it behind them.
"Sorry I didn't answer your phone call," Dallas apologizes to Nick. "I was busy chauffeuring this one around," she hooks her thumb towards Sara. "While her mom runs errands, but I got your voicemail."
"My parents can be really overprotective sometimes," Sara groans, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that she's talking to me. "It's really annoying."
I don't socialize well with people my own age; therefore, I remain awkwardly silent.
"Demi?" Dallas gasps. "What are you doing here? I thought that Nick only wanted to speak with our parents, Madison, and myself?"
"Oh, is that what he told you?" She arches an eyebrow. "How weird."
It is then that I realize Demi's family is who Nick was talking to on the phone earlier.
"We have a lot to talk about," Nick sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, repeating Eddie's earlier words.
"I don't want the girls here while we all talk," Demi informs.
"Why?" I inquire. "I'm old enough. Jordan's old enough."
"You honestly want to know how you-,"
"You two fucked," I cut off her dry retort. "And saying that aloud makes me realize that I really don't want to be here when you all talk," I scrunch up my nose in disgust.
"I second that," Jordan agrees.
"I have a license," Sara says. "I could drive us somewhere."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Dallas-,"
"Here," Dallas tosses Sara the keys. "I'll call ya'll when it's okay to come back. Be sure to answer your phone, Sara."
"Will do. You two ready?"
Jordan and I nod, following her as she leads us to Dallas' car. I claim the passenger seat as Jordan claims the backseat.
"So, you're what, sixteen?" I question Sara while clicking my seatbelt.
"Yeah."
So, she's two years older than me. How unfair.
"I have a basketball in the trunk," she implies.
"I love basketball," I truthfully state.
"I'm not very good at it," Jordan admits. "But it's fun. There are some outside courts at the park about fifteen minutes from here."
"I know the place," Sara nods. "I hope you both are ready to lose," she jokingly taunts, causing me to chuckle.
ns 15.158.61.50da2
