billion dollar woman || nanowrimo 2k18

five

Camila is awoken by the sound of the ringtone she'd set for Alfie's number. She answers without looking at the time or even opening her eyes. "Hello?" she mumbles through sleep.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd still be asleep," he says sincerely.

She cracks an eye slightly open to see the clock on her nightstand: 9:26AM. She sniffles, rolling onto her back. "'S fine, what is it?"

"Obviously I've woken you, so you haven't seen out your window yet this morning, have you?"

"Obviously not," she sasses despite the early time. She takes a deep breath, sitting up to see out the window to her right. She blinks quickly to make sure she's seeing things right. "It's snowing," she says with a sleepy smile.

"You don't notice anything else?"

Camila throws the blanket off her pyjama-wearing body and walks up the floor length window when she finally realizes. There are Christmas lights along the window edges and probably around the whole top floor. She's speechless.

Alfie clears his throat on the other end. "Can you open your door, please? I'd like to see your face right now."

Cami doesn't say anything when she walks over to her bedroom door, eyes still on the window. She opens the door and instantly wraps her arms around her bodyguard, burying her face in his chest. "Thank you," she whispers as his hands reach across her back.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he tells her, chin resting on the top of the short girl's head. Camila tugs him into her room as he continues, "If I crossed a line—"

"No, God, no," she cuts him off as she pulls away. She doesn't know how to apologize for needing so much physical contact without sounding needy or risking their professional relationship.

Alfie had held her a while yesterday until she'd stopped crying. She used to love the family Christmases the Fuentes family had but they were rarely all together anymore, and the stress of it all had gotten to her.

"You're better now?" he asks delicately, to which she nods wordlessly. "And I'm sorry about snooping."

Camila rolls her shoulder, walking over to her desk. She opens the drawer she hasn't touched since yesterday. She takes out the bottle and hands it to him. He'd read the label earlier: Zipoclone. "They're sleeping pills," she tells him.

He knows it's not exactly his place to ask, but he thought they'd been getting closer lately, so he does: "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm embarrassed, Alfie!" she exclaims, slouching down on the bench at the foot of her bed. She runs her hands through her hair and says, "I'm trying to make everyone think I'm okay but in reality I can barely sleep three hours before waking with nightmares of... it."

He wonders why she's never spoken about it other than two nights ago when he all but forced her to speak with him. "Have I ever judged you?" he asks, almost insulted but he knows he has to remember this isn't about him.

Camila shakes her head. "No one knows. I wasn't just shutting you out."

"It's not healthy to not let people in," he tells her as kindly as possible.

"Yeah, that's what my therapist says," she mutters before it's too late.

Her eyes widen as she sees the expression on his face. "Since when do you see a therapist?"

She sighs, no use lying now. "A few months. It's who I see when I tell you to drive me to my friend Carla's. Friend meaning therapist."

Alfie nods slowly, walking over to sit beside her on the plush bench. Their knees are touching, and Camila still wishes for more contact. So she goes against her best judgement and leans her head against Alfie's shoulder. He stiffens up for a moment, and she thinks it's because he doesn't want her to, but in fact, it's because this young woman makes him so nervous sometimes that it shocks him.

He relaxes under her touch, and that's when she finally calms down. She's always worried she'll do something that'll make him leave—evade protection, beg for midnight drives, omit too much, get shot—but he's never asked to be reassigned.

"You put up with too much," she murmurs, but he hears her anyway. He turns his head, and she lifts her own. They're facing each other, and he asks her to clarify. "I've got to be the most difficult person you've protected, yet you stay anyway. Why?"

Alfred considers his answer, of course knowing what he wants to say, but debating if honesty is worth the risk of losing her if she rejects him. "Do you really not understand why?"

"Tell me," she begs through a whisper, her face mere inches from his as she keeps glancing between his eyes and his lips. "Tell me, Alfie."

He nearly shudders at her lowered tone. "I like—"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. That was all she needed to close the space keeping them apart and plant her lips on his. While Camila runs her fingers up his hair, Alfie grips her waist and lifts her to straddle his lap.

Camila's never felt so deeply for anyone, but as she sat there with her knees on either side of Alfie's thighs, her hands grabbing at every inch of him she can reach, her lips on fire kissing him—she knows it's real and she wants him more than anything. 

•••

posted nov 07.18