Not Just One Night

Chapter 13

Camila's POV

"Ally, this is a bad idea," I whisper over the door of the refrigerator as she fetches the case of beer. I'm not sure if she heard me over the humming that's being dispelled from the appliance or not, so I repeat myself. But she brushes me off, annoyed after having heard the same argument the entire night.

The first time I had said it, was earlier, as I twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror, trying to pin down what it was exactly that I hated about my outfit, other than the fact that I wasn't wearing ripped skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and my converse but instead a dress, that had been pushed to the back of my closet for a reason. She had thrown some loose curls to my hair, and before she escaped to the bathroom to ready herself, she had applied a thick coating of eyeliner, and some red lipstick.

"Holy shit!" she screamed when she walked out, seeing the finished product for the first time. She stood at the door for five minutes oohing and awing over her creation. But I just stood in agony. I didn't want to go out, but more than that I didn't want to go to Troy's cramped apartment, and sit through a party that I have no business being at.

I'd rather be in my sweatpants, curled up in bed, listening to music, or reading, or wallowing in my misery of not having heard from Lauren in three days.

I'm an absolute-fucking-idiot for thinking she would have called by now.

Like in my head, I've imagined that she's going through the same issues that I'm having; picking up my phone, scrolling through my contacts, hovering over her name, dying to press send but then groaning loudly, locking the phone and throwing it across the room only to retrieve it ten minutes later, going through the entire ordeal again.

I know it's selfish, but I want that to be what Lauren's doing at 9:45 on a Saturday. When in all honesty, she's probably off fucking some new girl senseless, leaving temporary marks across her skin; that lucky bitch.

"I look ridiculous," I said, lifting the material up then letting it fall back against my thighs.

"Wrong my friend. You look fucking hot," I was still moving about in front of the mirror, hoping a better angle will convince me that I looked decent enough, when she walked over to me. Ally wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, and because she was wearing heels, there was no longer a height difference. She rested her chin on top of my left shoulder. Looking at me through the reflection, she said, "Just relax Mila. Tonight is about going out and having fun, which after the week you've had, you desperately need."

I knew she was right, still, I said, "I don't think this is a good idea," and she laughed it off, smacking me on the ass as she walked over to the nightstand to retrieve her ringing cellphone.

The next time I said it was when we had finally arrived at the party. Troy's apartment was wall to wall with people and I swear, it took us ten minutes to get from the door to the kitchen, where we knew he'd be. Within no time of us being there, Ally's boyfriend was already complaining about the crowd and how he had only invited a handful of people but his roommate had practically offered up their home to the entire college without permission. Ally made a joke about leaving his own party, and he said maybe later, but first he needed to get drunk. Ally having agreed to be the sober one of the night, went in search of a drink for Troy and I, and came back with two red solo cups filled with some concoction appropriately titled 'Fucked' because after one sip of it, I wasn't far off from that. I nudged her shoulder, after taking another drink, and I said, "I don't think this is a good idea." She laughed, pushing the bottom of my plastic cup, tilting it up toward my mouth, "Have fun, won't you?" she asked and I took another long gulp, feeling the numbness already seeping below my skin.