Fame: Camila/You

Chapter 2

I wake up from a peaceful slumber which isn't too common. I barely get any time to sleep when I'm working on a film or project.

"Camilaaa," I mumble after noticing that her body was no longer pressed up against mine, possibly providing all the warmth I'll ever need. She hums softly, sitting up against the headboard, lost in some book. "Good morning," her brown eyes shine in the daylight pouring in from the window as she smiles down at my greeting.

"Good morning. I checked in the fridge and theres no breakfast food. Where the hell is your breakfast food?" she asks, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose, looking actually concerned for me.

"I've just been going out for breakfast."

"God when's the last time you've had a real breakfast, (Y/N)? Come on we're going to the store." She places her book to the side.

"Ummm wait! We can't," I panic. "What time is it?"

"7:30am. Why?" She asks, surprised at my reaction.

"I'm just not in the mood for being noticed." I sigh. "I don't feel like putting all that much make-up on. Nor do I feel like dressing up. Just sweats."

"No one's going to be at the store near 8am. You'll be fine, okay? Hell, let's go in out PJ's." I've always loved how Camila could be so careless.

She'd convinced me to audition for my first film. Originally, I'd wanted the role of the cashier in a scene but the director knew that I could do better and had me read for the lead role. So I did. And I was given that role. If there was anyone to thank for my success, it was Camila. My dad left me and my mom at a young age and my mother never was a huge support nor did she encourage me at all. Camila had always been my #1 fan.

She drives the two of us to the store in my car. It isn't anything fancy. I drive a Honda Element. No one would ever expect (Y/N) (Y/LN) to be driving one. The car ride consists of Camila catching me up with her college life. She's currently a student at NYU.

"Why aren't you majoring in music?" I interupt her rambling about her annoying lab partner. Her eyes meet mine before looking down insecurely.

"I haven't...thought about it I guess." She puts her attention back onto the busy street.

"Well I want you to. You may be an idiot and I may not have heard you sing many times but I know that you're an extremely talented idiot." She stops in the parking lot of the store and sits there, her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to stop her smile from expanding.

Thing is, Camila isn't your average singer. She has a unique voice but it's an exraordinarily unique voice. I've heard her sing as she played on my "occasionally used" guitar. In reality I'd barely picked up the thing. I've heard her hum in the car along to a few tunes. It isn't the usual hum. It's melodically fulfilling. And when I heard her really sing like when I'd discovered her cover of skyscraper by demi lovato online when we both were 15, her runs made my heart jump in an unhealthy way. That's when I knew that she wasn't averagely talented. Camila is humble though, she doesn't acknowlege her talent as much as others might. She sings simply because she loves to. She'd sing even if she sounded like a chainsmoker without any teeth drunk in a karaoke bar.

"I'll consider it," the brunette answers in a convincing tone, stepping out of the vehichle. I do just as she does, exiting the car and following her to the entrance of the store.

It's mostly empty. Only about 12 customers in the store total. I sigh in relief and Camila notices. She sends a warm smile my way and I return it genuinely, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

"Pancakes?" Camila asks.

"Pancakes," I answer. I've never made pancakes in your life but Camila gets me to do a lot of things I've never done before and they always turn out perfectly.