In The Ring

Part One.

It was a hard life to live as me, Demi Lovato, I was by myself. My mom was killed when I was 16 years old in a major car wreck. I'm 23 years old now. My dad is still alive but he's in an assisted living because he is getting the start of Dementia and I just couldn't deal with it. So I moved to New York in a tiny 2 bedroom apartment with my best friend Colton. He's the only one keeping me sane at this point.

My life has been anything less than perfect.

Colton is a guy, but he was my first friend & he'll be my last. He's bisexual and he is so much fun!

I heard a sigh coming from the kitchen as Colton plopped on the couch next to me. I laughed at him.

"I need to get laid, D." Colton laid his head back on our old gross couch. His blues eyes looked at mine.

"Don't look at me when you mention that." I got up from the couch & went to the kitchen to get some food.

"Haha, Lovato! You'll be the last person I would want to fuck!" he yelled at me.

"Oh really? You would deny this?!" I raised my shirt at him. I would never do this to my straight friends, but Colton was the only one I felt comfortable with. He was more than a friend, he was a protective brother.

"Thanks for that." Colton rubbed his eyes, joking. I laughed at him.

"Oh, don't you have that meeting in 5 minutes?!" he reminded me. I looked at the time.

"Shit!," I dropped what I was doing and ran to get my things, "gotta go!" I ran out of the door.

I was a therapist to fighters who need someone to talk too. I'm a big fan of the UFC and anything that involves fighting.

I got to my office and the patient was already inside, "Sorry Mr. Jonas, I lost the track of time." I put my stuff down and sat in my famous chair.

"It's alright. Please, call me Nick..." Nick grinned at me. His smile could woo women from the beginning. His jawline could cut a bitch. Those chocolate brown eyes could melt your soul. Nick Jonas was an amazingly good looking human being.

"I rather call you Mr. Jonas...let's keep it professional." I held onto my notebook. He snickered at me.

"You'll be calling me Nick by the end of the session." he winked at me. I realized that he knew he was good looking and was going to act like it.

I shook it off, "Okay, what's the matter, Mr. Jonas. Why are you here?"

He laid down on the couch, the couch that's seen many many cries, many tears shed on that couch. As a matter of fact, I probably need to clean that couch.

"You see, I'm Nicholas Jerry Jonas....I'm fucking Nicholas Jerry Jonas...and I haven't gotten laid in about 3 weeks..." I felt my eyes roll into my head.

"Mr. Jonas, I'm a therapist, not a sex doctor...I can't help you in that category." I cleared my throat.

"How long has it been since you've gotten laid, Miss Lovato?" he looked at me and I could tell he was serious about this question.

"Excuse me?" I knew he was serious, but I still couldn't believe he would ask me.

"You know, how long has it been since you got some dick in your pussy?" he changed his choice of words. I was taken back.

"Mr. Jonas, I am not acquired to answer that question nor is it your business. If this is your only matter then you need to go find someone else to help you because I'm only supposed to help you if you need someone to talk to along the lines of your mental state, not your sexual state."