Addicted | Camila x Reader / discontinued

Drinks

For the first few days, I push aside the brief moments of jealousy sparked by their interactions. Instead, I focus on the times when Maria sleeps, when Camila and I can cuddle up and watch a movie or simply take a nap together, although her sleeping is always rare.

It is hard, however, not to notice when Camila begins to spend less and less time with me. She always seems to be actively focused on Maria or locked away in her thoughts. It's also hard to ignore how she becomes increasingly restless. I could pretend there was no effect but after just a week of Maria being around, Camila has transformed into a balloon of tension, and somebody is pressing a needle to her skin, waiting for the final puff of air that'll send her, and us, to the point of explosion. The other members of her team seem to notice, each going out of their way to either avoid or please her lest she snap at them, as if they've seen even a fraction of what she was capable of, which I know they haven't.

Larsen, with his mousey brown hair that always seems perfectly groomed yet wildly untamed, eventually comes sauntering up to us as we sat in the back of the bus.

"Hey, Mila," he greets, clapping his hands together and rubbing his palms together, looking down to me briefly. "Hey, Y/n. I, uh... We're going to grab some drinks to celebrate the first week of tour and we were all wondering if you guys wanted to come with." He chews on his bottom lip, swaying in his spot, and I grimace at the sight he obviously thinks is attractive.

Camila squeezes my shoulder with the arm thrown around me and hums in affirmation, already beginning to stand.

"Yeah," she agrees," I could definitely use a drink."

She pulls me up with her, and I soon find myself swept up in the rush to get ready.

The way the boy described the outing, simply "to grab some drinks", led me to believe we'd be visiting a simple local bar and, while I've tried to avoid them since sobering up, I know that is something I could handle; I have more control now, and more appreciation for what I have to lose. I settle for wearing a simple outfit that I know Camila likes—though she likes all my outfits as she'd picked out all of the clothes—while she wears black jeans and a tulle bra top, paired with the smokey eye that always kills me and, when she catches me staring, a smirk that has me weak at the knees.

"You ready, baby?" She asks, tipping her head to the side and donning an innocent look. I nod and take her hand, immediately feeling like the odd one out as she leads me off of the bus where the others wait, each looking as put together as she was. Even Maria has managed to dress up in someone else's clothes, though they don't quite sit right on her body. I recognize the shirt as Camila's and almost snarl, physically having to push the jealousy away by pulling myself closer to Camila. She doesn't seem to mind and when her hand snakes around my waist, I relax.

We take an Uber to the bar, which happens to be more like a discreet club, unmarked from the outside and accessible only when Larsen promises we had all come with him. The guard checks our IDs before letting us in, hesitating to do so when Maria doesn't have one. Still, something convinces him to trust us and he steps aside, revealing to us a rather large room, lit with neon lights and almost full to the brim with people dancing. He stamps our hands with a crown design as we enter the thumping room.

The bass, or the sight of clouds of smoke rising from the corners of the room, makes my heart rate pick up and I squeeze Camila's hand a little tighter. She doesn't seem to notice, letting go to direct me and the others to a booth as she and Larsen go to get the first round of drinks.

I all but tremble as I sink into the blue-lit booth in the VIP area. The smell of weed is heavy in the air and, though I can tell it's weak stuff, I have to convince myself not to seek out a source. I'm strong, I remind myself. Plus, I have Camila, who is smiling as she strides back towards me, hands full of shot glasses filled with liquids of various colours. I know tonight will last a while, but force myself to grin as she settles beside me, keeping a red glass to herself.

"To the first week of tour!" She calls, raising the small glass into the air. The others do the same, repeating her words, and they all chug down their drinks at the same time. She turns to me with a grin, causing my eyes to tear from her hand on Maria's lap, and leans in to peck me on the lips, humming along the way, "Spicy."

They drink for what seems like hours, ordering various kinds of alcohol. I'm shocked by her tolerance as, after countless drinks, she's only a little giggly, and that seems to be caused more by simple enjoyment than intoxication.

I get to know the others through the night.

Larsen is accompanied by two other boys around his age: James, a typical "lad", and Elijah, who seems more reserved. While Larsen and James challenge one another to drink various makeshift, and rather disgusting-looking, cocktails, Elijah's cup remains solely for simple ales as his attention is largely focused on the young blonde woman sitting across from him who goes by Kay.

She's a dancer, seems just as quiet as Elijah, and drinks the least out of everybody. The laced pants she wears tells me she may not be as shy as she appears.

She offers a little conversation with another dancer, a tall woman who looks to be of north-east European descent, with exaggerated eyeliner and a sleek black ponytail. I don't catch her name, though.

Then, of course, there is Maria. She drinks just two glasses of wine before swaying in her spot, and drinks three more at Camila's encouragement. Even when drunk, she clings to Camila and acts terrified of everything around us. This leads to Camila keeping her arms around her, often leaning into her ear to whisper words of reassurance, I presume. After a while, she lays her head back on the top of the white u-shaped sofa we sit on and stares up at the ceiling. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of her chest, she might've been dead.

Camila turns to me when she settles. The boys have slinked away to the nearby dance floor, grinding on various girls who lather in their attention. Even Elijah joins them, and I notice Kay's eyes often scanning the crowd before she frowns and looks away. I look to Camila, and she smiles.

"Go get me some beer?" She pleads, pressing her card into my palm. I can't say no to her pout, so I sigh and stand, ignoring the way she immediately turns to Maria as I make my way through the crowded room to the bar. I'm pushed and shoved along the way by multiple people, some I push back when they seem to have done it on purpose, before finally finding myself at the bar. I gulp as I rest my arms on its surface, watching as a man in a waistcoat finishes serving another customer.

"What can I get you?" He grins politely.

I glance back at Camila and see her holding up three fingers, a wide smile plastered on her face.

"Three beers," I then respond, sliding the card over to him.

"Anything specific?" He takes the card and toys with it, raising a brow.

I shrug. "Your best."

He nods and ducks down, pulling three black bottles with gold trim from a fridge beneath the counter. He opens them before he slides them over to me, swipes the card, and holds it close to his chest before I can take it and leave. With a smirk, he leans a little closer. "So, you're Y/n, right?"

I nod, frowning. I've only been recognized a few times, a perk of being with Camila I suppose, so I'm not quite used to it yet. I have to calm the racing of my heart at the thought that this man might know the old me. This isn't even my city, I remind myself, so the chances of him recognizing me for anything other than Camila are very slim.

As if to confirm my logic, he then asks, "So, why'd Camila replace you?"

I scoff and roll my eyes, leaning over to take the card and offering only the word, "Cousin," before leaving, beers in hand.

Camila is biting her lip when I return and, perhaps fuelled by the bartender's words, I lean in to press a kiss against them. She yelps in surprise but brings her hand to the back of my neck, allowing only a moment before pushing me back and reaching out for the bottles. She looks one over intently before shrugging and tipping it back, draining the whole thing in a matter of seconds. My eyes widen, and she laughs, already reaching for the second bottle.

"I've had a lot of practice."