You and Me, Forever

Accidental Date

Disclaimer: THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

This is a converted imagine off of Tumblr. All credit goes to owner/ writer.

Da link of the original imagine: https://sauveteen.tumblr.com/post/178175500881/drunk-romeo-juliet-sm-youve-never-been-one

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Camila's POV:

I've never been one for parties. Celebratory ones, sure, I love to join in on my friends' happiness and accomplishments — but house parties, teeming with alcohol and the gut wrenching smell of weed? If not for my best friend all but dragging me out of the house, I would never, ever consider attending one of my own accord. She had said I'd enjoy it, promised she would stay by my side come what may, but here I am again — refilled glass of strawberry daiquiri, and a woozy head blurry with the liquor. my free hand grips the railing in front of I, eyes scrunched shut and face jutted forward. The nocturnal winds do an immense job of cooling my warm body down, pushing my hair away from my face and behind my shoulders. The vantage point that the balcony offers is terrific, allowing me a splendid view of the sprawling yard beneath my feet, littered in solo cups and cigarette butts. Fairy lights hanging from the tree branches illuminate the scene in a soft, ethereal glow, giving my drunken mind the impression of a fairyland. I have half the mind to just straddle the ceiling and jump off, spreading my limbs to see if I can fly, because nothing seems impossible anymore, when a voice breaks into my jumbled thoughts.

"Hey!" Someone exclaims from below, causing me to press me to stumble closer to the edge, shoes pressing against the railing. Carefully, I lean my upper body towards the yard, metal railing pressing into my stomach. Grinning when I catch a sight of the boy screaming up at I, "Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly," He declares, waving his cup around, half a smirk on his face. I want to warn him that he's going to spill his drink all over him, but I'm too enamoured to be bothered, so I let him continue, "Then my love would also change."

Shawn looks handsome as ever, with his silk button up stretched taut across his body, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Whatever little light falls on him is caught by the metal of his pendants, resting softly against the tempting skin of his chest. He's wearing those pointy boots that I love so much, thick thighs clad in his signature skinny jeans. But more than handsome, he almost has that boyish charm to him — cheeks tinged a rosy pink, thanks to the alcohol he'd been practically inhaling all night, messy curls flopping around his head in an almost halo-like manner. As if on cue, he brings up a hand to push his hair away from his face, bicep flexing with the movement. I swear I go weak in the knees, causing my grip on the balcony's railing to tighten. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I don't hesitate as I quote Romeo and Juliet back at him, "Do I bite my thumb at us, sir?"

Shawn laughs, this tinkling sound that carries all the way up to the balcony, his head thrown back in amusement. I know there's nothing too funny, but I join in, tipping my head back and finishing what is left of my drink. Perhaps it's the alcohol, maybe the atmosphere, but I swear something shifts between us then. I've always been friends, albeit not besties, but comfortable enough in each other's company. But Shawn's barely around, and I'm not one for the social scene, so it's hard to catch him alone. So when he goes down on one knee, ultimately spilling his beer on the grass, and asks me if I'd get some ice cream with him, I can't refuse. I don't want to, either, because I don't think I've ever seen a proposal better than the one he just put on, and I would be lying if I said that spending time with him isn't the only thing I want right now.

I reach the ice cream parlour giggling, drunkenly stumbling through the empty streets. Shawn's arm is swung around my shoulder, side pressed up into me. He's singing this song he swears he came up with, and I don't have the heart to tell him that Ed Sheeran won an award for the very song back in 2015. Suddenly, Shawn halts in his steps, dipping his head to press his forehead against mine. There's a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, eyes dancing with mirth as he grabs I by my hips, softly swaying my bodies to the tune of the song. He sings the words softly to I, not missing the way my breath catches in my throat, and pushes me away slightly only to pull me back in with a twirl. I giggle, feeling his breath fan across my face as I carefully place my hands on his clothed chest. Fuck — why is he so warm, and why is he god darn close? The fact that I can't even walk in a straight line isn't helping, and so I both dance my way into the shop, thanking the heavens that no one's around.