Arranged Marriage

xi

twenty-five votes? this is lit k bye.

camila cabello — august 9th, 1:50 a.m.

The heavy alarm had woken me up, leaving me in an abundance of yawns and groans. A tight arm wrapped around me had made me jump up; causing another yelp coming from the presence near me.

"Shit, Camila!" Shawn grunted. He rubbed his eyes and let out a long breath, looking at me with annoyance in his eyes. "What time is it?"

I grasped my phone from the nightstand, and checked the time from the lockscreen. It was fairly early in the morning, and the night sky was still dark and luminous with the moon glowing and lighting up the dullness. "Around two. Get up, because I'm brushing my teeth. Could you put the stuff in your car?"

"Camila, I have priorities other than your personal needs. And to begin with, don't I get the bathroom? I am the owner of this room." He smirked, ruffling his hair out in the process. With the cockiness inevitably showing in him, I shoved Shawn in the arm. "Hey, you weren't shoving me when your lips were on mine last night."

Lips? "What lip-" Oh.

His smirk was growing within every second used for my cheeks to flush in a pink color. Memories flashed in my mind, reminding me of the kiss I had shared with . . a little narcissistic asshole. Why, Camila?

"Stop mocking me! Seems like you were enjoying it too!" I stuck my tongue out at him, squinting my eyes. He chuckled, and threw a pillow at me.

"I hate you." I groaned, pushing my lips into a pout.

"Oh, you love me. I'm sure you do."

A light peach color had painted my cheeks, making me turn away from the attention his eyes had given me. I forwarded myself to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it so there wasn't a chance he'd come in.

"You know, I wouldn't mind doing it again," Shawn shouted from the other side of his room. I laughed and shook my head, grabbing the toothpaste bottle.

My toothbrush.

I'd have to face him again. Damn it.

•••

I slipped a black hoodie over myself, and let the long hair fall down past my shoulders. My skinny jeans had already been on for the past, may I add, twelve hours. That's simply because I was too lazy to change and I even wore it as pajama pants. Uncomfortable sleep attire. It didn't seem to bother me as much when I was sleeping—probably because Shawn kept his space, and I kept mine: so I wasn't sweaty and awkward when I was asleep next to him.

A few moments leter had passed, and I was all ready in the car with my head resting on the pillow. Shawn was loading his carry-on bag (filled with his iPad for netflix, of course) and simultaneously running back and forth to the house contemplating if he should bring his polaroid camera or not. I said, just put it back! But the two-sided devil he is—he decided to bring it.

Patiently waiting for him, I start adjusting my head on the pillow so I could sleep. I had sweet, intainted, calm peace until the narcissistic asshole decided to show up.