PR? (Camila/You)

chapter forty-three

Camila watched as Y/N walked down the hall to take the call, her heart pounding as she sat on the couch. Why didn't she just tell her? It's not like she could do anything to stop it, really.

Her stomach was so knotted that she felt as if she were about to be sick. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. You'll be fine, she told herself. This proved to be in vain though because as soon as she heard Y/N's footsteps come down the hall, the knot in her stomach tightened even more than before.

Y/N walked around the hall corner and into the kitchen. Camila was confused as to why she didn't come in here right away. Maybe the call was about her tour. She stood and walked towards the kitchen, where she found Y/N at the stove, just starting to boil water. She had obviously heard Camila's entrance but chose to ignore it. "Was it about the tour?"

Y/N sniffled indifferently, sprinkling some salt into the water. After making Camila wait for a response, she spoke up. "We both know that call was not about my tour." She still had yet to turn around. Her calm state bothered Camila more than it would if she were yelling at her.

"I was gonna tell you—"

"Were you?" Y/N spun around, finally looking at her girlfriend. "Because, to me, it seems like you were gonna wait until someone else told me so you didn't have to. So when were you gonna tell me? When you got in the car? When we got ice cream? When I held your hand the whole ride home to try and keep you calm? Or was it when I talked about literally anything to get your mind off of that meeting? Because that whole time, you sat there, letting me feel bad for you. I felt bad for you while you knew you fucked me over."

"That's not fair." Camila argued weakly. "It's not an easy thing to tell you."

"Well," Y/N glanced at the pot, now filled with boiling water, before moving to the pantry and grabbing a box of Kraft mac and cheese. "Normally, if you know it's going to be hard to tell someone what you did, then it wasn't a good decision." She opened the box, removing the cheese packet, and dumped the remaining contents into the pot.

"It's not like I had a choice, Y/N. I tried to get out of it but they threatened my whole career. What was I suppose to do? Let them take everything away from me?" Camila tossed her arms up, already over this game of blaming her.

"No," Y/N turned back around to face her. "You were supposed to at least talk to me about it before signing it. You saw me last time. You saw how close I got to my breaking point the last time we went through this. You watched our relationship struggle, and you still forced me into this, again."

"I didn't force you into shit!"

"Didn't you, though?"

"No, I didn't. You act like you have to sign the contract as well!"

"Because I do! If I don't, then you'd hold me accountable for whatever happens to you because of it!" Y/N began stirring the pasta around the pot. "If you thought I had the option to not sign, you wouldn't have signed either. Because with that logic, then no matter what, you'd face the same consequences. Oh, wait, maybe you thought that if you signed and I didn't, they'd blame me and pity you because at least you tried, right?"

"There was no way for me to get out of that situation without if affecting anything. So, yeah, I signed it, because at least this way I have a fucking career!" Camila yelled, she vaguely realized what she said was problematic in itself but her rage blocked that out.

Y/N stopped stirring and slammed the wooden spoon down on the counter. "So fuck me, right?" She turned around. "Fuck my mental well-being. As long as you can still be fucking famous. Fuck this whole fucking relationship, but as long as you get to stay a star!" Y/N's voice was dripping with sarcasm.