Camila likes to take walks at night.
Sleep doesn't come easy for her anymore. She doesn't like to think about things in general. But when she's lying down with her back to the mattress, staring into nothingness, her thoughts like to come out to play.
Which is probably why she's never at home anymore. It doesn't mean anything to her. Camila only uses her house for sleep. She spends the rest of her time outside, doing nothing in particular.
So she walks. Usually with a cigarette in her hand to ease her nerves. Or in tonight's case, a half empty can of beer.
The streetlights flicker on and off above her, putting on her own personal fireworks show. They don't provide much light in the first place. Camila doesn't mind, though. She likes the darkness. She prefers to be hidden.
On this night in particular, she doesn't even notice the approaching headlights. What she does notice, though, is the screeching of car tires against pavement. And suddenly, she's blinded by a light and Camila wonders what heaven is going to feel like.
But then it's quiet. And then she hears the scuffling of shoes against concrete.
"What the hell?"
Camila tilts her head to the side, blinking a few times to try and find the source of the voice. It was a pretty voice, she decides. She could only make out a blur in front of her. Whoever it was looked angry, Camila could tell by the way her arms were crossed across her chest. Maybe she should be a detective. Camila giggles at the thought.
And suddenly, this mystery stranger is grabbing her shoulders and pulling her towards the car. Camila is a few beer cans into her night and by now, she doesn't really care what happens to her.
The slamming of a car door makes her jump and she focuses all of her energy into watching as the other girl's slender fingers curl around the keys in the ignition and bring the engine roaring to life once again. It sounds like marbles in a washing machine.
"You should fix... that," Camila nods, coughing on her words. She leans forwards and runs her fingers over the dashboard. She's in a car, she tells herself. Damn, she really should be a detective.
"I should," the girl's raspy voice fills the hollow air and suddenly Camila's attention is drawn away from the dashboard. She squints her eyes to try and get a better look at the girl but it is positively too dark for her to see anything but the faint curve of her jawline.
There's a lot of things that Camila doesn't like. Broccoli, dogs, and not having control. Two of the three she doesn't have to worry about. But she suddenly realizes that her beer can isn't in her hand, and maybe she shouldn't be a detective because she doesn't remember ever putting it down.
She reaches out, looking for the cup holder in the darkness. The smaller girl's eyebrows stitch together in confusion when her beer can begins to feel a lot more like a hand. Before she even has a chance to process this, the car comes to an abrupt stop once again and Camila is lurched forwards, hitting her head against the roof of the car.
Groaning, she reaches her hands up to rub her forehead, positive that she'll have a bruise in the morning. She doesn't have time to ponder what's going on. Instead, she simply hums a low note when she feels a pair of strong arms pull her out of the car.
And then she's being half led, half dragged behind a building. Her feet feel like bricks and she decides that maybe, as a detective, she shouldn't have had so much to drink.
Maybe she's being murdered. Camila's eyes widen at the thought and she immediately starts to ponder her attacker's weapon of choice.
And then suddenly all of her thoughts are swept aside when she feels an arm loop around her waist. And now she has to focus all of her energy into lifting her feet one at a time to avoid falling down the rickety stairs beneath her.
YOU ARE READING
covers ➸ a camren one shot
Fanfiction"And every cell in her body is screaming ‘touch her, touch her,’ but Lauren was a work of art and Camila could not ruin her. She’d already done enough of that."
