Fame: Camila/You

Chapter 1

This is just an idea I had and I thought I'd put it to use by writing it out and seeing where it goes. I thought it'd be interesting to make you the celebrity and Camila just the normal person. It's different, you know? Enjoy. :)

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Hearing a soft knock at the door, my only expectation is that it's the pizza guy. I've ordered pizza. Honestly, I'm a terrible cook and I may even have a history of burning water but it's whatever, I choose to order out on most nights. I look through the small peep hole in the center of the door that's eye level to me. I've always been freakishly tall. There standing outside is the small, not too clear image of Camila. I furrow my eyebrows but the confused look on my face is replaced with a smile because it's always fun when she's around.

"Hey, didn't expect you showing up tonight," I say as I open the door, smiling. My smile quickly fades. "Hey are you okay?" I can see Camila a lot better now. Her usual enthusiastic brown eyes are now bloodshot and puffy, like she's been crying.

"I br-" her lips tremble a bit before she throws herself into my embrace. I move to stroke my hand over her brown locks soothingly. She's trembling in my arms so my natural reaction is to kiss her forehead affectionately. We stay there for a while, me comforting her, whispering "it's okay" and "I'm here for you" softly into her ear because it is and I was. Her car is parked on the sidewalk in front of my house. I have no idea what she's upset about but I know that I'll do anything to fix it. I pull away from her. We've got to get inside. It's winter in New York. The chilling breeze isn't the most inviting. Holding the door open, I let her in. She wipes her tears as she enters the almost empty home.

"I see that you've not gotten around to buying furniture," She says light-heartedly. Her voice echoes around the house, it still being fairly new. It sounds a bit strained like she'd been shouting. Nevertheless her voice is still small, like someone who'd been crying.

"For your information, I'm waiting for it to be delivered. It was supposed to come today." I frown playfully. "I decided to go all out this time, you know. It's coming from Italy." I continue to frown. It's unbelievable that I've spent so much on furniture.

"Sounds expensive." Her eyebrows raise in surprise.

For a person with a bulk steady flow of income, I don't spend it often. The most expensive thing I've bought is my new home. The bottom floor is an ideal example of an open floor plan. The kitchen was renovated in September. I have a finished basement which I planned on turning into an at home movie theater. There's 7 rooms and 4 bathrooms total. In the backyard there's a small pond and a garden. I've bought it for 1.6 million dollars.

Other than buying a huge home, I've never let your popularity on the movie screens get in the way of who I am which is why I've been able to keep ordinary people like Camila by my side. I couldn't possibly let her go. Camila is anything but ordinary matter of fact. She's been my best friend since middle school.

I smile at her. Just because she's her. Or maybe because within the few minutes she's been at my house she looks ten times better than when she'd first arrived. The door bell suddenly rings and I know it's the pizza guy. It can't possibly be anyone else.

Opening the door, there's a teenage boy with faint acne covering his face and his eyes fixed on his phone. I feel Camila come up behind me. She abruptly clears her throat to get his attention. He jumps a bit, stepping back and glaring up at me.

"That'll be $6.79," his eyes are fixed back on his phone. I could've given him a single dollar bill and he wouldn't notice. Instead, I do quite the opposite.

"Here's a twenty. I don't have any smaller bills at the moment. Take the rest as a tip." I hand him the bill and smile despite his glaring and poor customer service skills. Taking the bill, his eyes meet mine and he smiles. His eyes widen. He gives me the box of pizza.