SWEETENER (Camila x Ariana)

Chapter 8

~Ariana's POV~

"Camila?"

Her mouth was on mine before her name fully left my lips.

You know when people say, she swept them off their feet? Well, in this case, that was true. My feet were no longer on the ground, and I would bet you any amount of money that even if they were, I'd fall. I'm not referring to my lack of coordination. It was her. She made me light headed. She swept me off my feet.

I knew this was wrong, but ignored the warnings that were racing through my head.

Her hair was soft, dark, and long. Perfect for me to run my fingers through. Her sweet perfume drifted into my nose, nearly making me faint.

"Camila." I mumbled in between kisses. I meant to say more. To ask what was wrong, but nothing else came out. Only her name. She surrounded me in more ways than one.

I probably would've allowed the night to take me if it wasn't for Donald Trump's voice. You see, when we fell back onto the sofa I sat on the remote, turning on the tv. Leave it to Ariana Grande to ruin a perfect moment life this.

She ignored it. "Camila." I said, trying to snap myself back into reality.

"I love how you say my name." She husked against my lips.

I choked down a moan that was threatening to spill out. "Camila, baby, stop." I whispered. She didn't stop. No wonder why. I didn't even sound convincing to myself. "Camila." I said, raising my voice. "Stop."

She still didn't stop! She knew I didn't want her to.

"I want you to distract me." She murmured against my neck.

So I was only a distraction to her?

I took a fist full of her luscious hair and pulled her head back so that she could look at me. Her hair smelled so good. "We can't do this again." Surprisingly, I sounded strong and fierce.

With a defeated look, Camila laid down, resting her head on my chest. She faced the backrest of the couch.

"What's the matter?" I asked after a couple minutes of silence, after I regained my breath and my heart beat evened out.

She didn't answer me right away. "Do you remember what you told me?" She mumbled. "You told me that life sucked. That it never gets better. It doesn't get easier."

  "Why would you listen to me? I was drunk." 

"You were right." She sighed. 

I wasn't sure what to do or what to say. I also wasn't sure what had her so upset. I didn't realize I was massaging her head until she said, "That feels good."

I laughed quietly to myself. I had wanted this for so long. I would prefer a sober Camila, but at least it was Camila.

"What has you so down?" I asked.

Her only response was a quiet snore. Well this was great. I had a sexy, drunk Latina on top of me. A depressed, sleeping, drunk Latina.  I ended up falling asleep after midnight. I couldn't even turn off the tv, because I was sitting on the remote, squashed beneath the Brown haired beauty. At around three thirty in the morning the temperature dropped which made me appreciate the body heat radiating off of her and onto me.  

I groaned as my alarm went off. It was cold, dark, and my head hurt. Today was the type of day where I would have called out sick, but thanks to all of the days I took off for the wedding and moving, I couldn't afford to call out again. I had to get up, get dressed, go outside into the cold, walk to work, say hello to my boss, the thought made me want to cry. It was the exhaustion. A lack of sleep led to nervous breakdowns where I would cry for hours. I pushed the thought away and focused on this soft bed I would be coming back to later.