Falling is the easy part (Camren)

1

Camila:

I groaned lightly and rolled onto my back. The familiar weight of an arm resting over my stomach. I groaned again. The usual questions flooding my head. What the fuck was I drinking last night? What had happened? Who the hell was laying next to me and why the fuck was he snuggling up to me? I hate snugglers. I am not, and I repeat, not a cuddly sleeper. I lifted my head a little and took a peek at the guy beside me.

Not too bad.

I've had worse. I grinned inwardly at the thought. There's definitely been worse Saturday mornings than this. At least I was in a bed. And the room itself ain't a complete pigsty like that guy the other week. That place was vile. Stains and all.

The guy beside me let out a little grunt like noise and I glanced at him again, a few memories from last night coming back to me. Grinding against him in the club. Doing tequila slammers with him at the bar. Making out him against the wall. Him whispering in my ear about getting out of there and him hailing us a taxi.

Well, at least I had some memories. That's always a plus.

My bed partner stirred again, grunting a little louder and shuffling closer to me. That's my cue. I lifted his arm from my torso and wriggled out of the bed. Clothes. I need clothes. I looked around the room again. We must have been in a rush to get undressed last night, or in the early hours of this morning. Our clothes were strewn in a line from the door to the bed. I grabbed my underwear, and swiftly covered myself up.

I'd become pretty good at getting dressed quickly. And at making myself reasonably presentable in the mornings. It was always best to get out of there before they woke up. There's nothing worse than that morning after small talk. Especially when you have absolutely no idea what his name is. Which I definitely don't right now. Matt maybe? Or Mark? I've got a feeling it begins with an M.

Ah well. Doesn't matter now. I zipped my dress up, smoothing the creased fabric down a little, and ducked down to check my reflection in the television. Yep, I could get away with this. Not too dishevelled. I found my bag, quickly checked that all my belongings were still in it, grabbed my heels from by the door and made my escape.

I got out of the house without drawing any attention to myself. Thankfully. There's been a few occasions before now, when I've run into sniggering housemates on my escape route. That's even more awkward and embarrassing than the morning after small talk. And even more thankfully the front door was unlocked. This morning was turning out alright.

As I stepped out onto the street and took in my surroundings I realised I knew exactly where I was. This morning was definitely turning out alright. There's nothing worse than waking up on the other side of town and it taking ages to get home. But this morning I'd thankfully woken up somewhere I recognized, and it was only a stone's throw from the house I share with three of my best mates. I grinned to myself again. There have definitely been some worse mornings over the past year or so.

I set off in the direction of my house, enjoying the morning sunshine and the fact that my hangover isn't actually too bad. Who knows, I might actually achieve something today? I'm fairly sure that the deadline for one of my reports is coming up, maybe I could actually sit down and give it a go. Get some work done. I laughed to myself. Yeah right. It's a Saturday, when have I ever done work on a Saturday?

Now, look, before you sit there and judge me. I ain't a bad person, or a slut, or a bimbo, or whatever else you're thinking. I know what people think of me, about what springs to mind when they hear the name 'Camila Cabello', I know all of that. And if I'm perfectly honest it doesn't bother me. They don't know me. They don't know who I am, or what I've been through, or why I do the things I do. Few people really do. I'm used to being judged though. I'm used to the whispers and the tales behind my backs. I got plenty of that back at school. Coming to uni was my chance at a new start. A chance to start over, away from the whispers and tales, away from the place where everyone knew my business.