camila cabello • one-shots & imagines ♡

stuck in the crowd - part 2

"God, this hangover is killing me..." Albert muttered under his breath, trudging through my kitchen with his eyes drawn to the floor. His attempt at trying to avoid the sunshine was a lot difficult than he thought, his hands tapping around to find a steady wall or something to hold on to. The man knew his way around my penthouse pretty well though, we've held a few parties here once or twice before. The benefit in knowing a few good people earned me a luxurious spot like this one,  as the magazines proclaim me to be "multi-talented" in just about anything-- which is well... false. There's only one thing I care about being good at and that's been learning from mistakes and songwriting. You can guess one out of the two which one I make a living out of. California is the place for that, but a few apartments in other countries doesn't hurt to have.

Surprisingly, the weather decided to play fairly today and the sun didn't glimmer as brightly as it would, but it was a bit cloudy. That kind of day was one that I favored the most. "(Y/N), are you even listening?" groaned Albert, peeking one squinted eye at me.

"I'm sorry, buddy. You know how I am, always somehow in my own world." Laughing, I watched Albert mutter grumpily under his breath, taking two pills of advil to rid of the aching pain in his head. "Go back to sleep, will you? The more you sleep, the faster that hangover will go away. If not, it's going to be a bitch until tomorrow, and I know how much planning you've done for that fundraiser thing."

"Shit, I completely forgot," Albert exclaimed, groaning further into his words as he stopped moving for a brief moment-- one of his hands shooting up to rest on his head. It was like he was having a mental torment, remaining quiet for a few seconds before waving his hand to dismiss my attention. He silently agrees with the smallest nod and soon enough, disappears back into the guest room of my residence. Normally, I would bring the party host back to his place, but somehow he failed to remember where he misplaced his keys and I couldn't leave him stranded. Some may consider him trouble, I consider him a friend.

Returning to hunch over my study desk, I couldn't help but eye my phone-- planted face down, untouched. The temptation to call the brunette I had met a night prior was unbelievably difficult.

Screw that, I'll just send her a message.

Swiping my fingers across the screen, I bravely typed a small message, contemplating what I should say. Nothing too detailed, nothing too short. Sighing, I wrote what I'd expect anybody else would say: "Hey! It's curious-"

Okay, no. Scratch that. I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I wanted to make a good impression. I was thinking too much about this, wasn't I? It's just a text, nothing to worry about. Shrugging this uneasy feeling aside, I began to write again. "Hey, Camila! Before I tell you who this is, how about you take a guess?" And before I knew it, the message sent. Re-reading it was horrible, and so I squeezed my eyes shut and began to hope that I had put in the wrong phone number or something. Of course, that would've meant that I wouldn't have any other way to privately contact her unless--

Ding!

Eyes shot open, I frantically took a good look at my brightly-supported screen. "The Pizza delivery guy?" the person replies, a little laughing emoji neighbored beside the text.

I rolled my eyes: "Nice try. Guess again."

"Nope! If it isn't the pizza delivery guy, I don't know who else it could be! I'm only concerned for the pizza at the moment, so you might as well tell me."

Chuckling a bit at the girl's adamance for her food, I reluctantly revealed my idea. "The curious cat, lil' missy."

"I figured as much, being that I gave you my number last night and neither of us were drunk," replied Camila. My phone began to buzz, the screen illuminating with 'Lil Missy' and my thumb, as if on instinct, pressed the 'accept' button.