The Beautiful Musician (Camila/you)

Chapter 21

Time stood still as the two stared at one another, neither moving from their spot as the air between them grew heavy.

Y/n had tried forcing words out of her mouth, but her body refused to cooperate; choosing instead to remain silent as she struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening.

"Y/n? Baby? What's going on?"

Camila spoke up next to her, the brunette's voice sounding strange and garbled to her ears; almost like her head was underwater. Shawn glanced between his friend and the woman, wrapping one arm around Hailee and the other around Camila as he pulled them gently towards the exit.

The Cuban struggled against his grasp, trying her best to loosen his grip around her waist as he led both woman away from the situation. She protested, only falling quiet when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I promise you, she will explain. But right now is not a good time, Mila. Give them some space and we'll meet them in the car." He tugged at her shoulder lightly, all three heading out with their security team.

Meanwhile, Y/n's body had stiffened as she walked closer to the velvet red ropes separating them. She clenched her fists, shoving them deep into her pockets and shifting back on her heels, glowering down at the fidgeting woman.

"I asked you a question, Isabella. What the fuck are you doing here?" She growled out, keeping her voice low so that she wouldn't draw attention towards the two.

"M-my boss told me to be here. He wanted me to cover the Hawkeye premiere tonight for an excerpt, but I had no idea you were going to be here." The journalist gestured to a small black notebook in her hand and tucked a strand of jet black hair behind her ear, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her upper body and rolling her eyes, "Oh? How is Robert, by the way? Still a massive dick I assume?"

"Please, Y/n. Don't do this." Isabella pleaded, reaching one hand up to rest on the singer's forearm. The artist tensed up even more, backing away as she felt her newfound burst of confidence wavered against the woman's touch as she felt metaphoric walls start to close in on her.

Seeing Y/n's reaction, Isabella's demeanor changed dramatically, the woman smirking and glancing around quickly to look for any kind of security before climbing underneath the ropes.

She placed her hand on Y/n's arm once again, feeling it tremble beneath her palm as the singer tried moving away once more; her back hitting the temporary display furthest from the people still meandering around.

Everything in Y/n's body screamed at her to push Isabella away and run, or at the very least, call for help; but it seemed that the black haired woman still held some power over her. She leaned against the wall, trying hard to form one coherent sentence as the journalist moved dangerous close to whisper in her ear; a sickly sweet tone to her voice.

"You don't know how much I've missed you. How much I wish I could change what happened that night, and go back to waking up with you every day."

Her breath tickled the singer's ear and Y/n felt the weight on her chest push down, crushing what little control she had left as she struggled to take in a breath, searching for the willpower to push the woman off of her.

Her senses were on high alert, the nausea inducing perfume making it's way into her nose, coating every breath she took and sending ripples of panic through her entire system.

Isabella took the opportunity to run her hand up and down the artist's bicep, tracing circles on the prominent muscles hidden underneath the suit jacket.