Summary- y/n only dates bad boys and that's just about the complete opposite of what Camila is– but that doesn't stop her from getting the girl.
Warnings- slight violence and tons of swearing.
Not proofread
"You know, if you stare any harder, her clothes are going to go up in flames" Normani laughed from besides the spaced out brunette, her head tilting to the right as her eyes drew judgingly over the shorter girls spaced out eyes and lovesick expression.
Camila's eyes eventually adverted towards her friend sitting on the red bench besides her, an incredulous look in them as she had to snatch her attention away from the beautiful girl doing laps around the field to look at the much-less-appealing face of her best friend. Not to be rude or anything– she just wasn't a hot teenage girl running laps in dangerously short shorts and a tied up top. But even if she was, she wouldn't be paying her even near the same attention as she's giving y/n.
"Oh, as if you're any better. You haven't taken your eyes off of Blondie since she got here" Camila scoffed with a roll of her eyes, sliding the brown orbs away from the judgemental look she was receiving and instead going back towards the laughing h/c-haired girl catching her breath on the field.
"Well, at least I'll do something about it, Misses 'I'm in love with a woman that doesn't know I exist'" Normani laughed, ignoring the vigorous glare she gets in return as she stands up from the bench before giving Camila a wink and jogging off towards the blonde drinking from a water bottle across the field.
Camila just scoffs once more in return, watching with an unimpressed glare as Normani easily strikes up a conversation with one of the schools most popular chearleaders, using her famously bright grin to her advantage as she takes the water bottles from the taller girls hands, purposely brushing fingers before taking a drink from the water bottle– she could see Dinah blushing as she watched Normani drink from the bottle before grinning at her with a charming 'thank you'.
Camila rolled her eyes before adverting them back to the girl that hadn't left her mind since the first day of 7th grade when y/n had accidentally bumped into Camila in the hallway before apologizing and walking off carelessly, Camila watching her go with wide-set brown eyes. She was dressed in short red shorts and a tied up grey t-shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders- it was the school's dress code for gym class, every student had to wear it, including Camila. But nobody seemed to be cable of looking as good as y/n did when they wore it. Maybe it was because she got a size to small with her shorts and opted for tying the t-shirt so it showed off her toned stomach– but even if she hadn't, Camila still knew that nobody coulr look as good as she would in unflattering red shorts and a baggy grey t-shirt.
She seemed to be perfect, for whatever reason, Camila couldn't find out. Maybe it was her long, wavy h/c hair, or her sparkling white smile that she showed to near nobody but her own friends, or maybe the beautiful ink that covered parts of her skin like writing on a wall– she couldn't pin it down to one thing. She just knew that y/n, stretching her leg above her head and cracking her tension filled neck as she got ready to run, was the most beautiful sight she had seen in years. And she really wished she could tell the girl that.
She doesn't know why it's so easy for Normani to go after the girls she gets infatuated with. Well, I mean, she kind of does- Normani doesn't have social anxiety, Normani is charming and outgoing and optimistic, Normani has more bed mates than Camila has fingers. She's everything Camila isn't– which, to be specific, is a social anxiety crazed, nerdy outcast virgin that hasn't even spoken a syllable to the girl she had been obsessing over since the 7th grade.
