35| Gym

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Gym

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Chapter 35: Gym (Demi's POV)

I was lying on the couch, looking for something to watch on TV when the elevator dinged and opened. 

"Demi?"

"In here!" 

He walked in, sighing in exhaustion and dropping his car keys on the coffee table in front of me before climbing on top of me and lying down. 

I let out a puff of air and a small grunt, all his weight on me. "I can't breathe," I mumbled, running my fingers through his hair. 

He made a small sound of disapproval before looking at me. "Spread your legs," he demanded. I laughed and he rolled his eyes while I put my legs on either side of him so his lower half was on the couch and he moved down lower, resting his head on my stomach, turning it sideways to get a look at the screen. "What are you watching?" 

"Nothing yet, I'm still looking," I replied, continuously running my fingers through his hair. I felt him watching me and turned to face him. 

He moved back up and I let out another breath, feeling his weight on me again. 

I chuckled softly, "What?" 

He leaned up, kissing me briefly. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before moving back down and putting his head back down on my stomach, closing his eyes. I stared at him, just observing him for a while. After a while, he turned to stare at me too. I read it in his eyes. He wasn't happy with the conversation he had with his mom earlier, the look of frustration and agitation on his face gave it away. 

"What happened?" I questioned. 

"My mother," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

"What did she say to you?" I frowned. 

"Nothing." 

"Vince." 

He held my gaze. 

My eyebrows twitched up. "About me?" 

He made another small grumble and closed his eyes, putting his head back down. 

My brows furrowed. "Are you... upset?" 

He looked at me in almost disbelief. 

"Does it bother you?" I questioned. 

"Doesn't it bother you? All she ever does is talk bad about you, as if she has any right to do that, as if she knows anything about you, about us. How can it not bother me? I don't care about her opinion but that doesn't mean I like hearing it. I hate hearing it. I hate hearing her talk badly about the girl I love." 

I smiled softly, brushing a lash off his cheek using my thumb. "I didn't know it bothered you that much." 

He lifted a brow. "Wouldn't it bother you if your parents said something bad about me?" 

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