Obsessed | Camila x Reader

two

Time passes slowly when you're waiting for something. I should know. Soon, though, I find myself on my way to Camila's concert.

After many attempts, I'd managed to convince my boss, Mr. Richards, to let me take this week off. If I'm a second late to my return, I'll have no job left to go to, he warned, toothpick twitching between his lips as he glared at me. I shiver as I push the memory of his face away, tugging my backpack further up my shoulders as I look around for the back entry of the venue where she said she'd like to meet.

The brick wall to my left comes to an abrupt stop as a parking lot is revealed through a gate, a few buses and cars within the confines of a simple dark green fence.

"Guess this is it." I mutter, opening the gate and stepping inside, glancing about for any sign of life.

A brunette comes into view, stepping off of the steel grey bus closest to the building. She's wearing a long white cardigan and deep blue jeans, paired with a dark pair of sunglasses. She appears to notice me too as a smile grows on her face and she hops down the last step, bouncing on her feet as she jogs towards me. That must be her.

Before I can get one singular word out, she collides with my body, wrapping her arms tightly around my torso, one of her legs joining them.

"Woah," I laugh, "Hi. Nice to meet you too."

She giggles, pulling back from where her face was buried in my neck just enough for me to see her clearly. My reflection in her glasses tells me that my mouth is hanging open, so I quickly shut it before clearing my throat and glancing down at the floor.

This must be every one of her fans' dream, having her wrapped around you like this, gazing at you with her lips slightly parted and a small blush on her cheeks like this. Carefully, I reach forward to remove her sunglasses seeing as it's rather cloudy today anyway, but she rapidly shakes her head when I get within a few inches.

"Okay." I whisper, mostly to myself, before cracking a smile.

"Y/n..." She grins, then frowns, "Are you real?"

"Am I real?" I question, frowning too even as I force an awkward chuckle, "Last time I checked, I was."

She nods then pulls herself against me once more, hair brushing against my cheek as she hides her face in the crook of my neck. My own hands come up to loosely wrap around her waist, an instinct more than anything else, and I feel her smile against my neck. Then, I feel something else; she takes a long drag through her nose before letting it out in a hot breath, its heat spreading through my body and leaving goosebumps in its wake like the rubble of an earthquake.

"I'm so glad you came." She mutters, lips brushing my neck in a way that certainly doesn't feel as though we've just met. A fleeting thought of her lack of security passes through my mind, and I quickly look around only to see nobody else in the parking lot. I suppose they might be less strict while at a venue than, say, an airport, but it still feels a little odd when my arrival had been arranged.

"I'm glad too." I nod, still scanning for any sign of a strong man or woman dressed in uniform. Nobody. Nobody but us and the buses.

"Let me show you around!" She suddenly exclaims, breaking my thoughts and line of sight when she leans her head back to look at me once more, "I have to show you the venue and give you a tour of the bus so you know your way around, and I'll show you our bunk."

And she does. She starts with the bus, explaining that that's the most important part as it's where we'll be spending a lot of our time. She shows me where things are kept should I ever need anything, how the tv and heater work, and finishes with which bunk is allotted to which person. It seems she's the only one who lives on the bus full-time, as the rest of her team seem to prefer sleeping in hotels wherever possible. It makes sense, after all. Who would want to spend who knows how many nights cramped into a pigeon-hole of a bunk?

To finish, she points to the bunk that is on the right of the bus, second from the bottom, and explains, "And this is our bunk."

"Our?" I question, frowning slightly, "We're sharing?"

"Yep." She replies shortly, not giving me time to argue before continuing, "Now come on, we need to get some food before I have to get ready for the show."

Grasping my hand in hers, she smiles down at the junction before looking back up at me, eyes shining as if covered with a thin veil of moisture.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently, feeling her hand tighten on mine slightly as her smile swiftly fades away.

"I'm fine, yeah." She sniffles, glancing down to hide her rapid blinking before smiling weakly at me once more, "Let's go."

...

"Of course my 'no' meant nothing and the next thing I know, I'm moving to America." I continue telling my story while Camila watches me intently, "From there, things went... downhill. But you probably don't want to hear about all that."

Her hand flies out from under her chin and lands on my own, and she rapidly shakes her head.

"No, I want to know everything about you." She retorts, adding when my brows twitch into a small frown, "I mean, if you're comfortable with sharing, of course."

"It's a long story." I sigh, "But I got involved in some shit, got into a lot of trouble, and eventually my family got sick of the police cars constantly parked outside our house and the attention it brought. They kicked me out, told me only to go back once I'd 'learned my lesson'. By the time I did..." I pause, glancing up at her from where my eyes had fallen to the table. I've never told anyone this before. Nobody ever seems to care.

"It's okay." She whispers, her thumb stroking along the back of my hand. I hadn't realised she's still holding mine, "You don't need to tell me yet."

"No, it's just... I put myself through rehab to get off of everything I was on and when I went back home... all that was left was ashes. Apparently, there was a fire the night before I got out. Nobody survived."

"Oh my god, Y/n. That's horrible." Camila comments, her tone soft and supportive.

"Yeah." I shrug, numbed to it all by now, "On another topic, your mac and cheese is going cold."

"Not hungry." She quickly retorts, pushing her plate to the side with the back of her hand, "Finish your food and we'll head backstage so we can take a look around. I like to go on stage before the soundcheck. It calms my nerves."

I nod in agreement, quickly shovelling the rest of my food into my mouth.