eighteen

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Normani was sitting criss-cross in her dressing room, writing in a notebook. She and Camila hadn't talked at all today. They didn't try to talk to each other today. Normani wanted to talk to her, but she didn't exactly know what to say.

"What are you writing?" Dinah walked into the room.

"I'm trying to write a song. Get out." The brunette grumbled.

"What type of song?" The blonde ignored her friend, and sat beside her.

"A sad one."

"What do you want it to be about?"

"Sadness, the fuck?" Normani rolled her eyes.

Dinah hit the girl on the back of her head. "Don't be a smartass," she rolled her eyes. "Why a sad song?"

"Because I don't have enough on my already leaked album." Normani said.

"Mani, you hate having sad songs on your album. Even the ones that aren't really sad. Like, I Walk The Line, 100 Letters, Now or Never–"

"I know."

"Well, why do you want one now?" The blonde asked.

Normani threw the notebook across the room, making Dinah jump, and got up. "Nevermind then. I just won't have sad songs on the fucking album."

"Mani, I didn't mean–"

"It's fine." The singer ran a hand through her hair and sat in a chair.

The Polynesian got up. "I'm sorry."

"I said it's fine. Leave it alone." Normani grumbled, getting out her phone.

Dinah sighed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The older girl said.

"Did something happen between you and Camila–"

"Oh, my god! Can you stick to being my best friend and songwriter, instead of my fucking therapist!" Normani yelled at her.

Dinah was taken aback. She took a deep breath. "I just want to know what's wrong with you."

"Well, I obviously don't want to tell you."

"Okay," the younger girl walked to the door. "My bad." She walked out.

"She was just trying to help you." A soft vice said.

Normani looked up to see the person that had her in this mood. The two made eye contact, then the singer looked back at her phone.

"Why'd you blow up on her?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer, Mani." Camila walked behind the older girl.

"Can you leave?" Normani asked.

"I can," the Cuban-Mexican said, "but I won't."

"Camila–"

"Mani, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Normani–"

"You haven't tried to talk to me at all today."

"What? I'm talking to you right now." Camila shook her head.

"Before this. You haven't talked to me–"

"Normani, I have been in interviews all day. I don't have my phone when I'm in interviews."

"Okay." The older girl said.

"Why are you being such a brat?" Camila said, becoming frustrated with the girl. "Why are you upset with me, when I did absolutely nothing?"

"Did you just call me a brat?"

"Yes, and I meant it," the Cuban-Mexican said. "You didn't seem to care about me not talking to you two days ago."

"Because I didn't–"

"You didn't want my body that day?"

"What? No–"

Camila felt her phone vibrating in her back pocket. "I have to go to soundcheck."

"Camila, wait–"

"Bye, Mani." Camila walked out of the room.

Normani let out a heavy sigh. "I guess I'll talk to her later."

She would.

If only she knew what was to come.


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a/n: 2

a/n: 2

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