Mile High Club (Camren)

Chapter 12: You Make it Hard to Let You Go

[trigger warning: just in case smoking weed triggers anyone]

[Lauren's POV]

The room was a mess of limbs and sheets and careless giggles. Camila was sat in front of me, the low light coloring us in dark, sleepy gold, and I had just shown her my first solo song. It was going to be released in a few days and I wanted her to listen to it before the general public did. We were sat with our heads under the blankets, forming a sort of tent – just like children do. It was our own little private universe.

The only thing that differed from a childlike scenario was the glass bong in my hands full of cannabis, which surprisingly was her idea ("I wanna feel this song, Lauren, c'mon. We're in California, they do this here all the time," she had said). And of course I knew that was just an excuse to get high, but who am I to say no to that pretty little Cuban thing? It's just weed anyways; it's not like we're sniffling cocaine or anything.

"Did you like it?" I asked nervously as soon as the Marian Hill song came to an end and some other random song came on shuffle. That was my first solo endeavor since I joined the group four years ago, and for some reason her opinion mattered a lot to me.

She nodded, gazing into my jade orbs longingly as she grabbed the bong from my hands.

"I loved it." She kissed the tip of my nose quickly and I swear that simple action was enough to make my heart melt. "I'm so proud of you, Lo. I mean it."

If you didn't know better, you could've sworn we're together, right?

But we're not. As much as I hate to admit it, we're not lovers.

However, I decided to ignore that fact for now, and leaned in to press a chaste kiss against her lips.

"Do you wanna know what's my favorite line?" She breathed in between kisses.

"Mhm," I hummed against her mouth.

"I just need your eyes on me so I can see you watching me move it," she quoted and my grin grew wider. "It's so sexy, Lo."

Even though what we had – whatever it was – was mostly physical, during the last few weeks we had grown closer than ever, maybe because being together wasn't restricted to airplanes anymore, or maybe because we knew we hadn't much time left.

We never talked about what would happen when the time came for us to part our ways, instead we just focused on spending time together. We'd frequently sneak into each other's rooms – she came to mine most of the times because of her mom's annoying habit of being everywhere all the time – and talk about nothing and everything, from our favorite colors to politics, from gossip to deep dark secrets, but never about that.

And I didn't tell her how I felt about her. I couldn't, it would only ruin everything if she knew.

"Let me take another hit," Camila said suddenly, breaking the kiss.

I can't believe she actually talked me into smoking weed with her, I thought as we got rid of the blanket and Camila brought the bong to her lips. Getting high in hotel rooms is so unlike her well-behaved self.

But then again, so is airplane sex.

Maybe she's just experimenting on new stuff before she has to go for good, I told myself bitterly, but then she started inhaling it and I completely lost my train of thought. I swear seeing her suck on the bong was the hottest thing I'd ever seen – and she wasn't even a pro or anything. I was mesmerized.