Warning: RWB spoilers ahead.
Some say the best love stories often take time.
Emery Chernychevsky has had a crush on Cameron Brooks since he can remember. Watching him date different girls all throughout high school was nothing if not pure torture...
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Cameron stared at the glass in his hand and watched as the ice melted. He had been pretending to drink for the past five minutes. Somehow, after a night of riding town-to-town through the state of California with his friends, they found themselves back at Totally a Bar, supposedly to recharge before hitting the road again. It's been an hour and a half, but they were yet to drop their drinks and leave.
The place wasn't as crowded as it was when they last visited, and Cameron is certainly in a much better mood than he was back then, minus the urge to dance with twenty-something-year-olds overplaying their hands with him. He remembers the last time he ended up on the dance floor, thanks to a drink he'd long decided not to order again, but the regret that came with a nasty headache the morning after wasn't even what made that night insufferable.
Cameron isn't a fan of dancing, but alcohol can screw with your mind in a lot of ways.
The lights above his head morphed into blinding auroras, with nothing to keep him standing but the sheer amount of bodies trying to press against him. He was drunk in overly significant proportions but it was easy to get lost in the haze of alcohol, taking away from that voice in your head that keeps you from fucking up.
It's been a while since Cameron fucked up and got drunk like this. He'd forgotten how it feels like to be on the loose and completely without care of the world. He was elated, his brain empty, with only the thought of terrorizing the streets with his singing to keep him conscious.
Until his eyes drew his attention to something else.
He didn't know what came over him, but he suddenly found himself walking away from the crowd of sweaty bodies and toward the two people sitting at the bar, one of them sober and the other passed out on the first one's shoulder. It was a revolting sight if he'd ever seen one, and the alcohol in his system was telling him to put a stop to it.
Cameron didn't completely understand the unpleasant chaos in his mind as he was making his way to the front bar, but he knew that Emery was his friend, and he wasn't one for seeing his friends miss a good time because some guy couldn't handle a few shots.
Cameron stared at them. Lucas should really think twice about drinking in public if he wasn't going to handle his alcohol like a man.
Pff. What kind of name is Lucas anyway? Lucas. Lucas. Lucas. So weird.
"Excuse me," Cameron muttered groggily, warding off anyone who was in the way. He didn't mean to push a few people too harshly, except he kind of did. He blamed alcohol. "Hey, get off. Please. Thanks..."
Once he was close enough to make sure he was really looking at Emery, Cameron opened his mouth to call his name, but then he heard something.
