Talk Me Down (Camren)

Chapter Sixteen

Camila wakes up with the worst headache of her life.

Naturally, when she wakes up, she lets out a loud groan that's followed by a disembodied laugh. And then, a familiar raspy voice speaks up. "Hungover, much?"

Camila opens her eyes to glare at Lauren. "You did this to me. If I hadn't gone to that party, I wouldn't be hungover right now."

Lauren snorts. "Yeah, sure, blame me. Let's not forget that you were the one to keep asking me to get you more drinks. I was just being a good girlfriend and making you happy."

"Ugh," Camila sits up and cringes at the light of Lauren's lamp, and the older girl seems to get the message and turns it off. "I'm never touching alcohol again."

"Good, because drunk Camila is an annoying little bitch," Lauren gives her a light shove. "It was like she's some sort of sadist. She really enjoyed annoying me."

Camila tries to think back through the previous night, and her mouth forms a smirk when she remembers something. "That wasn't me trying to annoy you. That was just me showing you how much I appreciate you, babygirl."

Lauren winces. "I was hoping you'd forget about that."

"I remember bits and pieces, if I really try to." Camila replies. "I remember forcing you to watch High School Musical with me and I think I tried kicking your parents out of the living room? Oh, god, they're going to hate me-"

"Relax, Camz," Lauren interrupts her, "I already talked to them and they thought it was funny. They actually kind of appreciated the early night. What else do you remember?"

"Um," Camila pauses to think, going through Lauren driving them home, speaking to Clara and- oh, fuck. Clara had told her that Lauren has body dysmorphic disorder, and she knows for a fact that her girlfriend doesn't want her to know that. Lauren's so closed off that she'd flip if she knew. "No. Not much."

Lauren raises her eyebrows. "Why did you look like you'd remembered something, then?"

"I, uh," Camila shrugs as casually as she can, "I didn't think that it's something you'd want me to know."

Lauren frowns. "I don't think I told you anything too bad. What was it?"

"Um," Camila tries her hardest to think of something else, anything else, and is entirely too relieved when she remembers something else from their car ride home. "You said you also- um, like to be called princess."

Again, Lauren cringes. "Um... yeah, I was kind of hoping you'd forget about all of that. You were kind of drunk out of your mind. I only told you because you were rambling about how you wanted to be a good girlfriend or something and I felt bad."

"Lo," Camila grabs her girlfriend's hand and curls up to her, pulling the sheets over them both, "it's not- I won't make fun of you for it or anything-"

"Yeah, sure," Lauren rolls her eyes, "You were having so much fun doing exactly that last night."

"That was just drunk me being stupid," Camila assures her, "while I do still find it pretty funny that the girl who walks around insisting she's badass all the time likes to be called babygirl and princess, I won't mock you for it. Sober, anyway. And if you want me to just... metaphorically forget it, I will."

"Okay," Lauren nods to herself. "Alright. I trust you. Don't tell anyone though, or I'll mess you up."

"Sure, princess," Camila teases her, and when Lauren sends her a stern look, she holds her hands up in defence. "That was the last time. Promise."