[[DISCLAIMER: EXPLICIT/MATURE CONTENT; g!p Camila, language, heavy use of drugs, sex; drama, comedy, angst. This story does not promote or encourage substance abuse or any illegal activity.]]
"I hoped she'd never leave me. Please, God, you must beli...
A/N: If you wanna imagine Lauren's look better in the book, here you go
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December 28th, 1984 - Los Angeles
Having no recollection of last night was the norm; if anyone rembered anything they did while partying with the band wherever they went, clearly they partied wrong. Camila doesn't remember having eleven shots of alcohol, the mud fight with a stripper in the Rainbow Bar and ruining the cash she was carrying with her, being hosed off in the street then drunkingly losing her balance and falling over and hitting her head on the curb. That'd explain waking up with a throbbing sensation and dried blood over a large scab on the corner of her head—the usual hangover headache was another explanation for it as well. Anything that happened at the club, surely she'd hear about it today by Jordy who remained more sober than an addict going cold turkey with beer to replace spirits, or with cigarettes to replace cocaine.
When Camila turned her head to find Madison sleeping on her stomach beside her, tan naked body on full display, she doesn't remember fucking her or inviting her back to the hotel room. In fact, the last thing she remembered was reminding her of the NDA she had her sign so that her secret wouldn't get outed to the world; Madison almost forgot and almost told someone about Camila's privates downstairs after a few shots and lines of blow but Camila (thankfully) cut her off in time.
Slowly, Camila pulled off the covers of her own body and slid out of bed. The mattress dipped and Madison moaned in her sleep, turning her head in Camila's direction, making the guitarist freeze in panic. The only thing Camila needed right now was some peace and quiet for at least a good twenty minutes to a half hour before she could tolerate any living breathing thing. That was her rule. Madison waking up right now would send her straight into a sour mood. Fortunately, the brunette didn't wake like Camila thought she would, so she celebrated quietly on her way to the bathroom to freshen up.
After a speedy cold shower, a quick hair wash, and a fresh pair of boxers and acid washed blue jeans, Camila returned to the bedroom smelling better than how she did the minute she regained consciousness; Irish Spring, dry deodorant, and green apples coming from her shampooed hair. But the pleasant aroma quickly became tainted by weed smoke when she held a joint to her lips and lit it. Camila wandered around the room, the morning sunlight hitting her breasts through the cracks of the curtains, highlighting parts of her bare shoulders and arms in a warm orange glow. She puffed out clouds of smoke as she fetched her acoustic guitar and sat on a sofa chair by the window, getting comfortable with it before lightly plucking the strings, improvising whatever soft melody that sounded good.
She wondered if Lauren was awake at this hour—whatever hour it was, hell if she knew. Lately she's wondered about the green eyed girl a lot. Camila found it cute how she'd catch her staring from her peripheral vision when she thought she wouldn't notice, and she found it cute that Lauren would go out of her way to look better than the girls that'd gravitate toward Camila and try too hard to steal her attention away from them. Lauren wasn't being subtle at all and Camila adored that about her. Sometimes, during sessions or hangouts in between, Camila would look up from her guitar and stare at Lauren, not bothering to look away long after she's been caught.
