Fame: Camila/You

Chapter 5

Soon enough we've moved our makeout session to the bed. To say I'm turned on would be an understatement.  I'm in my undies and a bra and the Camila is in her bra, undies, and stockings. I've got her straddling me and her tongue hasn't left my mouth in the last five minutes. My hands are positioned on her waist. When she begins to grind her hips against mine, I break the kiss shortly to let a low moan escape my lips. Our lips connect again. I can very well taste the champagne on her breath.

And then it hits me.

She's drunk. I can't go through with this. She may not remember it in the morning but I will and it would kill me to know I'd had sex with her while she wasn't sober. I'm aware of my feelings for her but I don't feel comfortable acting on them unless she wants to as well when she isn't highly intoxicated.

I break away from the kiss. Her eyes are closed and her eyebrows are furrowed. I place a hand at the side of her cheek. Camila slowly opens her eyes.

"I can't do this."

"Why not?" She whispers. I can see hurt in her eyes.

"You're...drunk. I promise you we can do this anoth-"

"No I get it," she says, trying to hide the slur in her speach.

"I'm sorry, Camila." She nods and sits up from my lap. She turns away from me and sits on the edge of the bed.

I leave to shower, feeling guilty for leading Camila on. By the time I'm out, she's asleep in her PJ's. Tonight's been crazy, I could use a long rest.

I can barely sleep though. Will she remember this? What if she does ad never forgives me? She was drunk and I let all this happen. I can't help but think of every possibility her waking up in the morning next to me will leave for the both of us.

_

Camila's POV

I wake up, feeling worse than I've ever been in my entire life. (Y/N) is nowhere to be found but I need advil immediately.

I have a pounding headache and it's extremely painful to look at any source of light. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night. Last night. What the hell happened last night? I have no memory of it at all. Well except the beginning of it and (Y/N) getting snappy with our waiter. Jesus Christ please tell me I didn't do anything stupid.

I hear the faint sounds of dishes clinking and being used from the kitchen which maks the pounding impossibly worse. I walk downstairs to the kitchen and spot (Y/N) in an oversized hoodie and boxer shorts standing over of the countertop.

"Hey." She jumps at the sound of my voice, causing a good amount of the pancake mix to spill onto the counter.

"Heyyy....how are you?" She looks at me in an apologetic way. Did something happen between us last night? Shit I probably embarassed myself in front of the paparazzi. That's it. I'm never stepping foot in public again.

"Horrible. Have any Advil?"

"Yeah. It's in the medicine cabinet above the sink." She looks like she wants to say something but doesnt.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" She turns back to her attempt at pancakes.

"What happened last night? Please tell me the truth."

"Well we ate, you got drunk, we drove home, then we came back here and you fell asleep sooo fast." I can tell that something else happened that she isn't telling me. We tell each other everything. Was it that bad?

"Oh." I decide not to question any further. I'll find out sooner or later.

"Yeah...Want pancakes? I think I'm making them correctly this time." We both laugh. I won't be mad at (Y/N) for what she isn't telling me. I shouldn't have let myself get drunk. Whatever happened is my fault.