Tell Me You Love Me // Demi Lovato // 1

7. Half-Truths

"What do you mean?" Demi asked, confused. She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward. I realized at this point, I would give so much detail and she would realize I was talking about her.

"Just tell me what to say to her!"

"Okay, fine. Maybe you should just ask her. Like, 'Hey, would you wanna date me?' The worst she could say is no."

"But what if it changes the way she thinks of me, and she won't wanna be friends with me anymore? I can't lose her."

Her eyes went wide. "Wait, you're friends with her?" I nodded. "So, she really means a lot to you." She paused. "I honestly don't know what to tell you. The best advice I can give is just to be honest. If you keep this from her, and she starts seeing other people, it could cause problems in your friendship if you start getting jealous." She shook her head and checked the time on her phone. "Oh, it's getting late. We should go."

I had finished the rest of my cone, and we headed out to find her car.

"Didn't I park right there?" she asked, pointing.

"No, you parked over there," I said, pointing in the opposite direction, which was further away.

"Shit," she muttered. "Are you sure?" she groaned.

"I'm sure," I told her, dragging her across the parking lot.

"If you're wrong and I was right, I'm gonna kill you," she joked. But I was right. Back in the car, Demi asked if I wanted to hang out at her house.

But I shook my head. "I wish I could, but I have to take a shower and think about what you said."

She got excited and squealed. "So, you are gonna tell her?"

"Maybe."

"When?" she pressed, glancing at me with a huge grin on her face.

"Soon," I said. "Maybe," I added.

She frowned.

"I told you, I need to think. Decide how I want to say it."

She nodded. "Okay, well, let me know what you decide when we're doing each other's makeup." We were getting closer to my house and she asked what she looked like. The irony was that she was asking what she looked like. But I tried not to be too specific.

"She's gorgeous," I started, telling the window. "She has long hair, brown eyes." Anyone could have long hair and brown eyes. What I didn't describe were her tattoos; if I got into those, she would definitely figure it out. I mean Stay Strong on her wrists? Roses under the word Stay? A lion on the back of her hand? A cross on the side of her hand? Birds going up her arm? Faith on her arm? If I said all of that, I might as well just told her I loved her right there.

But I stopped at long hair and brown eyes. However, Demi asked for a little more. "What does she do? How did you meet her? How long have you liked her?"

I gave vague answers, saying she wrote songs, and I've liked her for about five years, and that "we met where we met." Exact words, no lie.

Demi laughed at that one. "You don't know where you met?"

Oh, I remember, but again, I'd be better off writing it on a skylight: I love you, Demi. It's always been you. Tell me you love me too.

"I mean, we just kinda met one day." True. "And we became friends." Also true. "But I didn't realize I liked her until years later." True again.

I'm on a roll here, I thought.

Demi pondered this as she drove the rest of the way to my house. I got out, and she followed me. Was she really walking me to my door right now?

"Well, I hope it works out, whatever you decide," she told me as I unlocked the door. She helped me carry my bags and set them just inside the door.

"Me too," I said, staring into her eyes. I felt like we were teenagers, coming back from a date. All that was missing was the kiss goodnight. She hugged me and I held onto her for a long time. Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind.

When she pulled away, she was smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I nodded, wishing I had Sasha's beach-ball-sized lady nuts so I would just lean in. (And after watching so many episodes of The Walking Dead, damn right I'm gonna make references.)

We said goodbye, and she walked back to her car, while I stood there, front door open, watching her drive off. I saw her wave, and I raised my hand before I went inside to get my wig off, and finally take my shower.

After a shit ton of thinking, I decided that when we came back from Emo Nite, I would tell her. The worst that could happen was she wouldn't want to be friends anymore, but after the day we had, I didn't think it was possible.

Before I finally went to bed, I was looking through everything Demi had bought me, hanging my band shirts up in my closet and setting my jewelry on my vanity, when my phone dinged.

It was Demi saying she had a great day and looked forward to more days like it. She then said that she couldn't wait until tomorrow and wished me a good night.

I replied with an unnecessarily long paragraph, that basically restated everything she said, and I mentally kicked myself after I sent it.

But it was too late for regrets.

Tomorrow I would tell Demi Lovato that I loved her.