~Demi's POV~
I'm awoken the next morning by loud laughter and the bright afternoon sun shining through Bailey's window. Looking around, I notice that Bailey is no longer in the bed, and Nick's arm is wrapped securely around my waist.
"Shut up, Bailey!" Jordan squeals. "You're so loud, oh my gosh."
Bailey continues to laugh causing me to smile.
"Her laugh is just like yours," He murmurs in my ear.
"Mine isn't that loud and obnoxious."
He chuckles.
"How long do you think we can get away with before somebody demands that we get out of bed?"
I hum in thought, giggling as the doorbell rings, and he groans.
"Does that answer your question?" I sit up, but he lowers me back to the bed as footsteps pass by the door.
"Let them get it," I roll my eyes.
"What if it was a serial killer or-"
"Or what if you worry too much and watch too many crime shows?"
"I hear Dallas," I listen to my sister greet the girls and ask where we are; I curse when Bailey tells her our location.
"Nick, we have to get up."
"Can't we just lock the door?"
I shake my head in amusement, abandoning the comforting warmth of the bed to make my presence known.
"I was just about to come upstairs," Dallas smirks.
"I figured," I pour us each a cup of coffee, of which she smiles gratefully when I hand her a cup. "Where did the girls run off to?"
"Those three went upstairs."
"Those three?"
"Sara's here."
"Why are you always watching over her?"
"Her mom's a doctor, and her dad's a nurse, so they're always working crazy hours. They don't exactly like the idea of her being home alone, so I'm the one who watches over her. I'm just glad that she's not a hassle and can practically care for herself."
"Do they not trust her or something?" I know that I'm being incredibly nosy and asking about stuff that's none of my business, but I want to know who my daughters are spending time with.
"It's not that they don't trust her," she slowly responds, as if trying to figure out what to say. "They don't trust other people. Like, Sara's boyfriend, for example, they hate him."
"Why?"
"He's eighteen, two years older than her, and they think that he just gives off a bad vibe, but of course Sara won't listen to them when they try to tell her."
"Sounds like mom and dad with me," Dallas laughs. "And they were right every single time."
"Remember when they first learned that you and Wilmer were together?"
"I thought that dad was going to murder him right then and there," I giggle, recalling the day.
"And then we all gradually relaxed and treated him as if he was a member of the family," she frowns. "We should have never let our guards down."
"Or I could've told somebody."
"No, you couldn't have," she whispers, looking down at the brown liquid in her mug.
"At least I'm okay now."
"Yeah," one side of her mouth quirks upwards. "But I still want to kill him."
"Who are we killing?" Nick enters the room.
"Wilmer," Dallas beams.
"Sign me up."
"I'm not bailing you out of jail, Jonas," I roll my eyes.
"I'd still die happily in jail knowing that I killed the bastard."
"I hear three giggling girls and footsteps," I comment as the girls make their way down the stairs.
"Are you three high?" Dallas teases.
"Jordan, I told you that those brownies tasted weird," Bailey goes along with it.
"And I told you to not continue eating them," Jordan chimes.
"But they were really good brownies," the three girls can't hide their amusement as they laugh. "Okay, let's be honest here," Bailey glances mischievously at us three adults. "Who has actually smoked pot or ate a pot brownie before? Because I haven't," she smirks.
"Me neither," Sara interjects.
"I wouldn't know where to get pot, let alone how to make a pot brownie, even if I wanted to," Jordan's confession causes me to snort, yet I'm relieved.
"Yeah, well, I plead the fifth," I say, and Dallas and Nick agree with me. "Now, what's so funny?"
"Well, it's not really funny," Jordan contradicts.
"It was more like one of those 'how did I not notice before?' moments," Bailey supplies. "Oh, and I'm scarred for life."
"You and me both."
"What did you two do?" I narrow my eyes.
"It's my fault, really," Sara sheepishly admits. "I'm a fan of throwbacks, and Bailey apparently thinks that she's Isaac Newton."
"Correction: I think that I was Isaac Newton in a past life," I swear that nearly everybody rolls their eyes. "Anyways, I have a theory."
"What's your theory?" Nick arches an eyebrow.
"That your self-titled album is all about her," she hooks her thumb towards me.
"That's ridiculous," I laugh, but I sober up my laughter when I realize that Nick is oddly silent. "Right, Nick?"
Yeah, sure," he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red as he lowers his eyes to the floor.
"Are you blushing?" I laugh. "Is Nicholas Jerry Jonas blushing?"
"Shut up, Lovato."
"Wait," I stop laughing. "Nick, please tell me that you're not serious because some of those songs..."
"Were rather raunchy," Dallas concludes. "I mean, they were good songs, but damn you two only slept together once."
"Dallas!"
"What?" I gesture towards the three girls. "Oh, yeah, minors in the room. Sorry."
"Wait, what songs are you talking about?" Bailey furrows her eyebrows.
"You haven't listened to the entire album, have you?" She shakes her head in response to my inquiry, and I share a glance with Nick.
"But now I will. Sara?"
"I'm so dead," the older girl mutters before tapping away at her phone, the over decade old track beginning to play.
"Wait, which song's this?" Bailey wonders, and Nick shrugs. "You can't even remember your own songs?"
"It's been a while. At least I could remember mine on stage," He taunts me.
Right when I think I finally got you figured out, you turn around, blow my mind. So frustrated, girl, you make me wanna shout, and it's only just the start of the night.
"Um, how about no?" I pipe up, noticing Nick's amused smirk.
"Wait, okay, now I'm curious," Dallas admits. "Like, I want to know how differently I hear each song with Bailey's theory running around in my head."
"See? I'm a genius," Bailey boasts.
"The songs aren't even about me."
"If I said yes they are-"
"Don't say that," I cut Nick off.
"Yeah, don't," Bailey agrees. "As of right now, it's just a theory based off of the few songs that I've heard. If you confirm it, I'll have to listen to all of the songs, and then I'll be scarred for life," she pauses. "This song is already scaring me. Oh my gosh, Sara, turn it off." Sara chuckles before obliging.
"What about this one?" Sara taps on her phone. "I like this one a lot."
Nothing is forever, nothing would be better than the love you're giving me.
I just gotta have you, wish you didn't have to. When you gonna set me free? Like it or not, we were doomed from the start. I know that you'll agree, but nothing is forever, nothing would be better, better, than you and me.
"This one isn't about me either," I decide.
"Are you going to say that about every single song?" Bailey groans. "Just shut up and accept it. Jeez, most women would love to have some of these songs dedicated to them." I roll my eyes.
"I take the worst of what you got. It hurts more than sticks and rocks. You know I'll be there," Nick sings. "Demi, how can you think that this song isn't about you?"
"It could be about anybody," I defend.
"Like Olivia," Bailey surprises me by adding. "Who I just recently learned about. Where she at?"
"She was using me for money," Nick explains.
"Ouch."
"It's fate that you two are supposed to be together," Dallas grins, and I sigh, not really believing in the whole 'fate' thing.
"'Cause I used to live in fear, it was my home, but there are harder things to be than all alone. You're the broken part of me that makes me whole but so unsure," Nick continues to sing, looking directly at me. "Still don't think it's about you?"
I stay quiet.
"Ooh, what's this one?" Bailey taps the phone screen.
I can tell that you're a real bad girl underneath it all.
"Oh hell no," Bailey claps her hands over her ears. "I can still hear it! La! La! La! La!"
"I told you that these songs were going to come back and haunt you when you have kids," I remind Nick.
"Yeah, well, you never said anything about my kid being so dramatic," We both look at Bailey who is curled up in a ball on the floor muttering 'evil Satan's spawn' with her hands still covering her ears.
"The song's over, drama queen," she cautiously removes her hands from her ears and rises to her feet upon realizing that Sara silenced the music.
"Although I am scarred for life and wishing that a random lightning bolt would strike down and hit me, I agree with Dallas. You two only slept-" Jordan hits her with a throw pillow. "Would you stop doing that?"
"Okay," Dallas stands. "You two need to go get ready," she points to Jordan and Bailey.
"Why?"
"Because I'm spending the day with y'all. If it's okay with you two, I mean," she looks at Nick and me. "I do have fourteen years to make up for, just saying."
"Just don't buy them so much that their closets are overflowing," she squeals and hugs before ushering the girls to their rooms.
I follow her to the kitchen where we place our coffee mugs in the sink.
"What is your real motive, Dal?" I arch an eyebrow.
"I honestly want to spend time with them. Plus, it gives you and Nick the house to yourselves, and-"
"Are you trying to be suggestive?"
"Maybe a little bit," she smirks. "But, seriously, you two look like Hell," I roll my eyes. "This whole thing is really taking a toll on you, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I nod.
"What about your health?"
"It's not my mental health that I'm worried about," I sigh when she furrows her eyebrows. "We-we found out that Bailey is, um, cutting herself," I stumble over my words, still finding it hard to believe.
"Does she do anything else?" Dallas wonders after a pause.
"We don't know."
"I'll keep an eye on her today. See if she does anything suspicious."
"Thank you."
"Where did Dallas go?" I hear Bailey ask Nick.
"I'm right here," Dallas giggles as we return to the living room. "You're not going to want to wear that."
Bailey looks down at her outfit in confusion. She wears a black skull tank top, black jeans, and black converses.
"Why not?"
"You'll die in the heat. Just throw on some shorts, and we'll leave as soon as Jordan is ready." Bailey sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and nods.
As she returns to her bedroom, I rush to my bathroom and grab my makeup bag before following after her. Relieved that her bedroom door is unlocked, I open it only to find her sitting on her bed having a panic attack. I drop my makeup bag and crouch in front of her.
"Match my breathing, baby-girl. You're okay," I take deliberately slow, deep breaths until she manages to calm herself down.
"I can't wear shorts! Everybody will think that I'm a freak!"
"Don't question me, but go ahead and pick out some shorts, okay?"
As I'm searching through my bag, she returns with a pair of black shorts.
"You do realize that black absorbs heat, right?"
"I'm pretty sure it's gray." I roll my eyes. "I'm a fan of all the fifty shades of gray. What?"
"You weren't trying to make a reference?"
"What reference?"
"Nevermind. I need you to get rid of your jeans."
"How about nope?"
"I'm your mom, Bailey. Quit being so stubborn."
"I don't want you to see my cuts."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to hurt you."
"They're not going to trigger me, Bailey, if that's what you're thinking."
"You don't know that. Everyone always says that, but then you stare at them a little too long, and then you find yourself thinking about it a lot and wanting to feel it, and then you do it." I frown. "I just don't want you to risk it."
"Would you rather your dad do it?"
"No," she scrunches her nose up.
"Exactly, so let's just get this over with."
She sighs and removes her jeans, yanking her tank top down over her underwear. So many scars and cuts litter her thighs, all various lengths, all various colors, all various depths. Some are only scratches while others seem to be on the verge of needing stitches. I do take note that none of them are extremely fresh, meaning that she hasn't cut since I took her blade at least.
"I'm proud of you," I murmur, beginning to cover up her scars and cuts with makeup.
"What for?"
"You haven't done it in a couple of days."
"So?"
"So, that's a big deal."
"No, it's not," she scoffs. "Sure, maybe if I was able to stop for months or years at a time-"
"Don't degrade your progress like that."
"I'm not even in recovery. You can't make me recover."
~
"How is fifty shades of gray a reference?" Bailey asks everyone once we're back in the living room, and I swear Nick chokes on his drink.
"It was a series of books and films," Dallas responds, scrolling through her phone.
"I don't get it," Bailey frowns. "What's the big deal then?"
"Oh, they were rather erotic."
"Dallas!" I scold.
"What?"
"She's fourteen!"
"So?"
"I'm mature for my age," Bailey defends.
"I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing about the reference, though," Jordan mutters.
"Wait, so, they were popular enough to be referenced frequently?" Sara pipes up.
"Oh, yeah," Dallas nods. "Popular and controversial."
"How so?"
"Well, he was abusive towards her," Nick replies.
"And then cops had a mess on their hands," Dallas adds.
"Why?" Bailey furrows her eyebrows. "What do cops have to do with a movie?"
"You tell her, Dallas," I nudge my sister. "You're the one that brought it up."
"Well, they got a lot of phone calls."
"About?"
"Why do you ask so many questions again?"
"People were calling 911 saying that their significant others were locked in handcuffs because they were trying to mimic the movie and books," I explain, knowing that she won't quit asking.
"Well, that's one way to do roleplay," Bailey snorts.
"And there goes the last of my innocence," Jordan sighs.
"They're complete opposites," Dallas looks at me, referring to my two daughters.
"You're just now figuring that out? Wait until you take them shopping. She," I point to Jordan. "Will want to buy pink and glitter and flowers while she," I point to Bailey. "Will want to buy basically my entire closet from when I was around twenty."
"The accuracy, though," Bailey chuckles.
"Okay, now I have to take you both shopping, so go pile in my car."
"I call shotgun!" Bailey claims as the three girls make their way to the door.
"No," Jordan groans. "You'll mess with the radio the entire time."
"Deal with it."
"What if I want shotgun?" Sara wonders.
"I'm the one related to Dallas," Jordan points out.
"So am I," Bailey retorts.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Dallas jokingly shakes her head, and I laugh as she leaves.
"So," I turn to Nick. "Is that entire album really about me?"
ns 15.158.61.16da2
