CONSEQUENCES

Chapter 5 - From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

Camila felt like she had been hit by a truck. And not one of those cute little Italian trucks, oh no,  a big old fully loaded American semi-trailer. Her head was pounding like a chain gang of jack-hammers had taken up residence and, oh my God, she was going to puke, like right now. She tried to sit up but there was a boulder on her chest and neither of her legs would move and the whole room was spinning like she was caught in the vortex of a tornoado. Her stomach roiled and she rolled over a little, seeing beside the bed a big empty bucket, and she used it, repeatedly, before falling back with a moan. She felt a cool wet cloth on her forehead, then wiping her mouth, and it felt so amazing.

"You crazy lush," a voice whispered.

She smiled. Oh, it was Shawn, she loved him so much, he would look after her. If Shawn was here, she'd be fine.

When she awoke again it was dark, her stomach had settled, the room was no longer rotating and even her head felt a little better. The offensive bucket had been removed, as had her clothes, she was clad only in her lacy panties. She sat up gingerly, glad to find that apart from a mouth dry as sandpaper, she felt pretty much recovered. She trotted into the bathroom and cleaned her teeth, multiple times. The t-shirt Shawn had worn that day was hanging on the back of the door, so she pulled it on over her clean and naked body and went in search of him.

She entered the circular living space and found him, sitting on the sofa, his feet on the ottoman, the television on with the volume low, sound asleep. A bottle of water sat on the side table and she picked it up and drained it. So much better! He looked peaceful, the swelling in his nose and forehead seemed to have gone almost entirely, and his black eye had not amounted to much, it was really just a bit yellow, if you peered closely. She picked up the light blanket on the arm of the chair and spread it across him. She stood staring at him for some time, and would have remained there doing just that if she hadn't been distracted by the moonlight rippling across the pool. The thought of the cool water on her skin was enticing and she stepped out into the darkness, discarding the t-shirt onto a chair and stepping into the water. She dove under and began to swim lazily, one lap after the other. As she did so, she wondered again why he was here. Their last conversation before she had left Los Angeles hadn't been encouraging, and yet here he was, purely because he said he missed her.

She suddenly realised what was happening. Why did he just look at her and all her sense went flying out the window? When had this happened? After all, she'd managed to restrain herself for years, so why now? Now, when she was in a serious relationship with a man she loved? Come on Camila, you're not even convincing yourself. In the beginning, she had definitely been in fizzy, happy, silly love with Matthew. But after a while....

Oh God, what was his hand doing?

"Shawn, no...." she moaned, awkwardly extricating herself from his embrace and standing up. His face was flushed and he was panting, and, well, ready for action. She turned and slipped back into the onesie, zipping it up to cover her nakedness. As if on cue, the open laptop on the table began to chime, signalling an incoming video call. From Matthew. And the camera was aimed straight at Shawn's lap.

She stumbled toward the screen, trying to block Shawn from view and quickly turning it so that the camera could only see her. Shawn didn't move at first, then he bent to pull on his jeans, as quietly as possible.

"Camila," Matthew said tersely.

"Hi," she said with a nervous smile.

"Yep," he leaned forward, frowning. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"It's a reindeer onesie, remember I got it at Christmas time?"

"How could I forget?" he said with a wince. As if he was remembering the embarrassment.