Handwritten (One Shot Collection)

Lead Me Home

"You can't get tattooed when you're this drunk. Come back here in the morning, and if you still want my name on your ass then we'll talk."

***

"Mom, I don't really understand what it is you're asking me to do." Camila Cabello sighed, fighting the urge to softly bang her head against her cluttered desk and risk spearing her t-zone with a thumbtack. "The only reason I called was to ask you to book me a plane ticket home for Christmas, I didn't need the lecture."

"It's not a lecture Camila, it's just a suggestion. You're just like your father, far too high strung and constantly stressed out. How about I deposit a little money into your account, and tonight you go out with the girls and see the downtown area? Maybe have a drink or two, make a new friend?"

"This is ridiculous." Camila shook her head. "I told you, just because I'm in college doesn't mean I need to be an idiot. And can you do me a favour and not drag Dad through the mud every chance you get? I'm not some kind of wall you can just rant to whenever you want."

"I'm not asking you to be an idiot, I'm just saying it'll help with the stress. Put down the books for a night, don't worry about the midterm, or the paper due two weeks from now. You should try breaking some rules once and a while, you're young, take it as a chance to cut loose while you still can." It would also be a good change of pace for you. All the time your father spent in his days of higher education were wasted being far too serious, now the man barely knows how to sit down and relax. I had to force a golf club in his hand the other day. Don't let that be you in the future."

"Mom!" Camila demanded, frustration flaring up in her chest.

"I'm sorry honey, it's just things are getting harder and harder over here. It's different now that you're not with us, I have more time to worry about you and even more time to argue with your father."

Looking from the clock on the wall to the window letting in a touch of fading light from outside, Camila rolled her eyes. "Alright Mom, I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking." The woman sounded satisfied. "Have a good afternoon Camila."

"Mmhm." Camila hit the red button on the bottom of her phone and haphazardly tossed it into the pile of dirty laundry that was growing on the ground. "Asshole." She muttered, pushing back from the desk and stalking out into the hall. "Is anyone home?" The girl called up the stairs, the empty echo in her voice denoting an equally as empty living room. "Assholes." She repeated, emerging to the ground floor and hurrying to the stairs. The sound of a shower running could be faintly heard through the walls on the second floor, and without a second thought, Camila scrambled to the closed bathroom door and began to rap on it with the side of her fist. "Hey!"

"Camila?" A muffled voice answered. "Is something wrong? Is there a fire?"

"No fire, but I have a question!" The brunette called back. Waiting no more than three seconds to push the door open and step inside, she grinned at the heavy scent of coconut in the air. "Ally?"

"Sure, come on in, I don't mind." Ally Brooke, a tiny yet adorable San Antonio sweetheart sounded sarcastic, but Camila was less than interested. "What's up Mila?"

"Are you guys still going out tonight?"

There was a hesitation on the other side of the shower curtain, then a long hum of thought. "I don't know." Ally finally replied. "We were thinking maybe just drink here, then find something in the neighbourhood. It seems a little daunting to go all the way downtown."

"Daunting?" Camila mocked. "Come on, if you go downtown then I'll go with you."

"Really?" Ally poked her head out from behind the curtain, her hair covered in a layer of foamy white shampoo. "But you never come out with us, what's the occasion?"