A Symphony of Devotion: The Start [Demi Lovato]

[48] Basorexia

"Hi, oh my God, can I have your autograph?"

Words that I never thought I'd hear in my life. I pull my sunglasses off my face as I turn from my locker to the brunette, looking into the excited eyes of the freshman staring back at me. "Um, okay, sure."

I take the sharpie she holds out to me, then sign the cover of her phone.

"I saw you perform with Demi Lovato last night," she breathes. "You were amazing."

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, my nose scrunching automatically. "Thanks.. I think."

The bell rings, and I offer a, "See you around," before turning and starting down the corridor.

What just happened? It's like, overnight, I became famous. When I woke up and checked Twitter in the morning, I was trending. Insane. The world was insane.

I never would have thought this would happen to me. I mean, I hoped for it but, face it, the chances of it happening are one in a million. And it seems too incredible to believe that I'm that one.

I walk into English, sitting at my desk in the near empty classroom as I wait for more people to fill into the room. Needless to say, Devonne's dominating my thoughts.

It's the most difficult thing to sit next to her now. Usually, it's for an hour. I'll sit, overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume, our elbows occasionally bumping. And that contact, it gives me hope, and yet burns me through. With Devonne, I used to be bounded with strings of plethoric love. But now the only things surrounding me, are distant memories of broken promises and burnt out love.

As I think, I slide my sleeve down and absently scratch around the cuts there, singing along quietly under my breath to the song playing from my earpiece into my ear.

I still love her. I love her a lot. And I just cling to the thought that maybe one day, we'll meet again, in a different time, when we're different people. And maybe then we'll be better for each other. I still have hope. Because I know our love was strong, and it was just that timing was wrong, and love decided that we didn't belong.

Sometimes.. Sometimes it isn't any of our faults.

Then, right on cue, Devonne steps into the classroom. I slide my sleeve back up and stare down at my black-painted nails as she sits beside me, wishing like nothing else to just close the tiny gap of mere inches between us.

Neither of us say a word until the teacher waltzes in, but the proximity of her so close to me, her vanilla scent tempting me, her soft-looking hair slowly driving me insane. It's even worse than when we both didn't dare to open our mouths because, God, do I want to take her in my arms. It's been months since we last kissed, even longer since we held hands.

Fuck, I miss holding her hand more than anything in the world. It's such an intimate gesture, yet innocent at the same time. When I feel her hand touching the palm of mine, it's like the entire world is at my fingertips at that moment. I can still remember the first time we ever held hands. When she nudged at my hand and eventually slid her fingers interlocking with mine, and I felt my cheeks getting warm, turning a shade of rosy pink, and my heart pounding like drums. When she grasped on so tight that it would be impossible to let me go. How her hand just seemed to fit right into mine as if it was meant to be that way. So beautiful and satisfying with a rush of different emotions.

"We're going to be doing pairwork today." I'm drawn out of thoughts by Miss Cerise giving worksheets out, and take mine reluctantly. "You have the next hour to write a narrative essay on the theme of forgiveness."

Jesus Christ. Could she have picked a less discerning topic?

I sigh and sit up, meeting Devonne's gaze for a split second before lowering my eyes. She pulls a notebook out and silently scribbles some words on it, then pushes it to me without looking up.