You and Me, Forever

Your Favorite Color Under The Light [1]

This is a series on how Camila and Shawn came to be (From Bringing Heaven To You).

Disclaimer: THIS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

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

This da link of the original imagine: https://shawnjpeg.tumblr.com/post/182275392990/your-favourite-colour-under-the-light

A lil smut between 👀👀

***

"For fuck's sake!" swears Camila Cabello quietly, restraining herself from throwing the contents of her cup in the general direction of the person who so annoyingly bumped into her.

Sweaty bodies, dancing people, loud music and alcohol is what she summarises this house party as and she should've known better than just because it is being held at Max Aksoy's apartment does not mean that it was going to be any better. Four years of university and even in her final year. . Camila still has not gotten used to having alcohol falling onto her.

This time, it's worse because Max Aksoy's fucking stupid mind decided to throw a Christmas party on the base of The Great Gatsby, that he argued it was not because he titled it as, '1920s Flappers and Rich Sugar Daddies - Please no sex, ffs.' It made no sense where the correlation between the 1920s Fashion and a 2018 Christmas party was, but with Aksoy, Camila has come to understand that minimal questions should be asked.

Despite people's mature university asses dictating their minds to not take their pants off in any spot in the room, Camila does spot the random pairs making out in the kitchen, in the hallways, against the wall. . 'Tis the season?

She knows she should not even have dragged her ass over to this party. . she does not even celebrate Christmas at home just because her culture was different to the majority here in Toronto. But she does celebrate it with her friends and so when her best friend, Alia, asks her to come, Camila caves in, rolling her eyes because she knows Alia is trying to get with Max, as Max is trying to get with her.

Camila quickly realised when she stepped into the party that she needed to minimise the influence Alia has on her. . because it drags her into situations like this one.

She glares at the person, hand tightening around her red cup. She downs whatever is in it, before throwing it in one of the bins laying around. All the while, Camila tries not to focus on how terrible it feels to have alcohol (some concoction of vodka and something) running down her skin, exposed by the deep V-neck her flapper dress holds.

Looking down, she finds it spilled across the swells of her breasts exposed in the pink, mini, spaghetti-strapped dress and she wants to rip off every little fringe this flapper dress holds in annoyance. Camila pushes past people, bodies colliding into her as she does and she wonders how Max managed to get so many people to come when he only invited a total of fifty.

Camila hears a random pop rock song playing as she steps into the hallway. Luckily, she managed to catch Max reemerging from one of the rooms, Alia in tow, who is now clothed in the extra layer of what is surely one of Max's sweaters. Max is looking down, hand gripping Alia's, with his lips purses and cheeks red and Camila rolls her eyes because she knows what has happened. Now, can she please leave? Alia and Max have both gotten what they wanted and now she wants to do what she wanted to do all along: sleep.

But then she remembers the booze on her and her hand catches Max's shoulder and she warns him, "The good bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right." Max says, breath airy and Camila's eyes dart between his and Alia's and she smirks, letting go off Max's shoulder so they can carry on. She raises her eyebrows at Alia just as she passes her and disappears out of view.