Miss Cabello (Camren)

9

Camila's PoV

It's when I get to my second drink, do things really seem to fall downhill.

Dinah is already drunk of her ass, grinding with a tall blonde on the dance floor, her hands on her hips as she screams the lyrics to 'Or nah' at the top of her lungs.

The club is oozing sex and tension, and I immediately feel uncomfortable as I scan the crowd with narrowed eyes, my fists slightly clenched to my sides.

Was this Dinah's idea of a fun night out? To drag me to a lesbian bar then leave me to grind against some middle-aged blonde?

I scoff to no one in particular, and the bartender gives me a soft smile whilst leaning her arms against the counter.

"Bars not your thing?"

I shake my head. "Definitely not."

She grins and pushed a medium sized glass towards me. "Loosen up, you'll need it."

She walks away, and I stare at the drunk as if it's alive, as if it can answer all my bubbling anxiety held within.

"Fuck it." I grab the glass, and in one swift motion, chug the whole thing down.

"Hey!" I call to the bartender. "Can I get another?"

She looks at me smirking, wringing a dish cloth into a dirty glass. "Atta girl."

And so I drink glass number four.

Ten minutes later I'm dancing along to the lyrics of a Spanish song, a tall brunette bopping beside me, her hands slowly feeling lower and lower down my sides.

I should back away. I should leave. I'm dating Michael, this is technically classed as cheating. But, whether it's the alcohol or me really just not caring, I carry on and let her hands glide further down.

The song is nearly over when I'm apologising and rushing to the toilet. The stalls are large but smell like sick and alcohol, making me slightly gag into thin air.

It's not long later when I walk out of the toilet and collide into a body a tiny bit smaller than mine, my shoulder jutting into her chest.

"I'm so sorry." I say feverishly, not being able to see the stranger in the dark light.

I hear a low raspy chuckle and then, "it's fine. Don't worry about it."

I look up slowly, my breath catching in my throat.

Is it? No- It can't be.

But sure enough, it is. Lauren is standing above me, and when her hypnotising emerald eyes meet mine, they widen hugely.

"Camila?" She shrieks. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" I ask surprised. "What are you doing here Lauren? You're seventeen years old!"

Yes Camila. I scold myself. Lauren is seventeen and you're twenty three, and right now all you want to do is rip her fucking clothes off.

"Um." She mumbles, scratching the back of her neck bashfully. "Fake I.D?"

Her voice is so hypnotising. So slow, raspy and sweet. Her breath seems to hang in the air, a mixture of strawberry and cigarettes. Her emerald eyes are outlined with thick black eyeliner, and her hair is pulled up into a tight pony tail, showing off the moles on her pale chest and neck.

"Um." I stutter. "I should go now. Just pretend you never saw me."

And I attempt to walk out, not before feeling a hand grabbing my arm and pulling me back around to face a slightly angered Lauren.