The art of being a beard (Camila/You)

Chapter 4

Narrator's POV

*ring*

*ring*

*ringggggggggg*

Y/N threw the pillow away from covering her head and glared towards the door.

Who the fuck would need her this urgently at 9 in the morning?

She grumpily rolled off her bed and slumped her way to the front door. On her way there, she saw Dinah sitting by the kitchen bar, peacefully scrolling through her phone as if someone isn't trying to break their doorbell.

"Good morning, sunshine," the blonde greeted without looking up.

The novelist threw her a middle finger before swinging the door open. "What?" she spat at the person on the other side, who happened to be her manager by not too much surprise.

Jackie gave her a glance-over and arched up an eyebrow at her. "You have a plane to catch in less than an hour."

"Okay, thanks for the reminder. Bye."

Y/N went to slam the door shut right in her manager's face. Or that's what she was intending to do. Jackie pressed a hand against the door and stalked into the apartment.

"Don't you need to get ready?" the manager asked once she saw the novelist flop down on the couch and turning on the TV.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Oh no, she doesn't," Dinah interfered. Jackie nodded her head in agreement to that, making Y/N roll her eyes at both of them.

It didn't look like the novelist was gonna make much of a move, so the manager slipped her way to the front of the big screen, completely blocking Y/N's view on the TV.

The novelist rolled her eyes at her manager again. "It's literally just throwing on some clothes and eating some breakfast. I don't need a whole damn hour to get ready."

Jackie crossed her arms over her chest. "Try to at least look decently dressed up, will you?"

"Whatever."

-

She didn't necessarily dress up at the end. She scanned herself in the mirror one last time; just a random T-shirt she found in her closet, a pair of baggy pants, an old backpack for her shit, and a pair of dark sunglasses to hide the fact that she's lowkey hungover and really tired.

Well, I guess at least it looked somewhat decent.

Once out of the apartment complex, she was met with a black SUV waiting for her. The car door automatically slid open and revealed Camila sitting inside at the backseats. She took off her own pair of sunglasses and offered the novelist a small smile. Y/N just gave her a curt nod before sidling up in the empty seat next to her.

The car ride to the airport wasn't exactly awkward, it just felt really tense, and Y/N really didn't like that.

They arrived at Miami International Airport in complete silence. Surprisingly, there weren't any paparazzi around. Which was pretty suspicious, by the way. But Y/N couldn't say she wasn't glad for that little tiny piece of privacy.

To be honest, the novelist didn't even know where they were heading. She just blindly followed Camila, hoping that she knows. From the looks of it though, it seemed like she can find her way around here even with her eyes closed.

When Y/N got told they were going for a trip with the plane, she thought they will go in the business class or something, or maybe with first class. She didn't expect that these people were rich enough to have a whole ass private plane for them.