CALL IT EVEN | shawmila

seven.

Six Weeks Ago...

Camila stared out the penthouse room window, the lights of the city stretching out for miles in every direction. From the heart of New York, it looked as if this was the only place in existence, that the concrete jungle lasted forever, that there was no such thing as tiny woodsy towns that nestled hidden gem coffee shops.

But if she fell asleep on the plane tonight, then she could wake up somewhere completely new, it was hard to believe so many placed existed in the world and she had seen them all without really seeing them. She went to these cities to sing, but that was about it. She didn't even get to try their coffee shops.

As if on cue, there was a knock at her room door. Camila turned away from the window, going past her guitar still laid out and the open notebooks on the floor around it. She quickly scrubbed the tears off her face with the sleeve of her robe before looking through the peephole. She breathed in relief and rolled her eyes.

"I thought you were Roger." She opened the door, the hall light flooding her dark room. "What do you want?"

"Wow, what's got you so moody?" He smirked before seeming to notice the redness in her eyes. "Really, Camila, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." She swiped at her eyes again. "I was just working on stuff, stirring up old emotions, I guess."

She let him follow her in, stepping around the papers on the floor as she turned the lamp on. As someone who constantly lived out of suitcases, Camila never unpacked in hotel rooms. It wasn't worth it, she just made sure her favorite pajamas were always on the top of her suitcase.

"I brought you this, figured you still be up." He placed the cup of coffee on her nightstand. She tried to smile at him despite knowing it wasn't going to taste as good as somewhere local that made it with heart.

"Thanks." She took a few sips anyways, her jetlag telling her didn't matter that it was midnight.

It felt weird—the long punctuated silence with him in her room. She'd been alone with him and the other members of her band countless times for rehearsals, but she knew he wasn't just one of the many members of her team all with the goal of selling this glittery blonde girl to the public.

For one, he seemed to listen to her a bit more than the others, like he actually remember this was her image and her voice mattered. But as nice as his support was, it came with some things she was just too tired to deal with.

The way he looked at her, for one. He was staring now, blue eyes locked onto the way she pushed her blonde hair back over her shoulder. Every time he did that, she pretended she didn't notice. She didn't have the energy to notice.

"Are these it?" He picked up some of the pages she'd torn out and set aside. "What you were writing?"

"No, that's what Roger gave me, it's what the writers did. It's supposed to be the big thing to get people to buy Glory when it comes out next week." She sighed. "Look how fucking cheesy those lyrics are."

"I think they're kinda cute." He smiled. "But if you don't wanna do it, just tell him."

"Are you serious? You know he never listens to me." She grabbed the pages back, unable to stand the thought of him seeing all those words before she had to sing them. "Roger says if the song does well at the festival, he wants to put on a live album and maybe even make a music video."

"Oh, fun." He seemed to light up at that idea and Camila knew why.

In the very beginning of her career, before she was iconic name that she was, he and her other band members would always be featured in her videos. She remembered having so much fun back then, before the pressure of her career got to the point it was at now.