Handwritten (One Shot Collection)

Lead Me Home

"You can't get tattooed when you're this drunk. Come back here in the morning, and if you still want my name on your ass then we'll talk."

***

"Mom, I don't really understand what it is you're asking me to do." Camila Cabello sighed, fighting the urge to softly bang her head against her cluttered desk and risk spearing her t-zone with a thumbtack. "The only reason I called was to ask you to book me a plane ticket home for Christmas, I didn't need the lecture."

"It's not a lecture Camila, it's just a suggestion. You're just like your father, far too high strung and constantly stressed out. How about I deposit a little money into your account, and tonight you go out with the girls and see the downtown area? Maybe have a drink or two, make a new friend?"

"This is ridiculous." Camila shook her head. "I told you, just because I'm in college doesn't mean I need to be an idiot. And can you do me a favour and not drag Dad through the mud every chance you get? I'm not some kind of wall you can just rant to whenever you want."

"I'm not asking you to be an idiot, I'm just saying it'll help with the stress. Put down the books for a night, don't worry about the midterm, or the paper due two weeks from now. You should try breaking some rules once and a while, you're young, take it as a chance to cut loose while you still can." It would also be a good change of pace for you. All the time your father spent in his days of higher education were wasted being far too serious, now the man barely knows how to sit down and relax. I had to force a golf club in his hand the other day. Don't let that be you in the future."

"Mom!" Camila demanded, frustration flaring up in her chest.

"I'm sorry honey, it's just things are getting harder and harder over here. It's different now that you're not with us, I have more time to worry about you and even more time to argue with your father."

Looking from the clock on the wall to the window letting in a touch of fading light from outside, Camila rolled her eyes. "Alright Mom, I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking." The woman sounded satisfied. "Have a good afternoon Camila."

"Mmhm." Camila hit the red button on the bottom of her phone and haphazardly tossed it into the pile of dirty laundry that was growing on the ground. "Asshole." She muttered, pushing back from the desk and stalking out into the hall. "Is anyone home?" The girl called up the stairs, the empty echo in her voice denoting an equally as empty living room. "Assholes." She repeated, emerging to the ground floor and hurrying to the stairs. The sound of a shower running could be faintly heard through the walls on the second floor, and without a second thought, Camila scrambled to the closed bathroom door and began to rap on it with the side of her fist. "Hey!"

"Camila?" A muffled voice answered. "Is something wrong? Is there a fire?"

"No fire, but I have a question!" The brunette called back. Waiting no more than three seconds to push the door open and step inside, she grinned at the heavy scent of coconut in the air. "Ally?"

"Sure, come on in, I don't mind." Ally Brooke, a tiny yet adorable San Antonio sweetheart sounded sarcastic, but Camila was less than interested. "What's up Mila?"

"Are you guys still going out tonight?"

There was a hesitation on the other side of the shower curtain, then a long hum of thought. "I don't know." Ally finally replied. "We were thinking maybe just drink here, then find something in the neighbourhood. It seems a little daunting to go all the way downtown."

"Daunting?" Camila mocked. "Come on, if you go downtown then I'll go with you."

"Really?" Ally poked her head out from behind the curtain, her hair covered in a layer of foamy white shampoo. "But you never come out with us, what's the occasion?"

"My mother hates me." The Latina shrugged back. "What do you say, yes or no?"

"I guess if the elusive Camila Cabello has chosen to grace us with her presence, we have to go out tonight. Text the others, let them know you're in." Ally gave her a smile, then disappeared back into the confines of the shower. "Also when you leave, don't have the door hanging open, you let in a draft. I'll be out in a minute."

"Perfect." Camila pranced back outside happily, securing the bathroom door behind her. She waited patiently albeit painfully for Ally to finish, then tailgated into her room like a puppy waiting for a walk. "So where are we going to go? It needs to be something intense."

"Camila, why the sudden interest in the evening festivities?" Her roommate questioned. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" The Latina blinked, turning around while Ally exchanged her towel for a t-shirt and jeans, then started running a brush through her damp hair. "What do you mean? Are you saying that something has to be wrong for me to be the life of the party?"

Not necessarily, no..." Ally shrugged. "It's just I've known you forever, and you typically don't act this excited at the prospect of going outside and being social. You're more a... hang out under your covers and write One Direction fanfiction type."

"That was one time in high school." Camila hissed. "I knew I never should have told you guys about that, quit holding it against me."

"So what's the deal?" Ally had a bottle of perfume in her hand, and was fiddling with the cap with a growing smirk on her face. "Talk to me."

"Just mom stuff." The brunette shrugged. "I hate knowing that I'm halfway across the country and trying to hold together a marriage that just keeps falling apart. It's fine... I mean kids do everything they can to prevent divorce all across the country. Sure, not all of them have a little sister who still needs to grow up and deserves to do it with two happy parents, but it's fine." Camila trailed off. "No big deal."

"Mila." Ally placed a hand on her shoulder, the room suddenly smelling like a very delicious Chanel number. "You need to tell them how inappropriate it is using you as an outlet. That's not what you're there for, you're their daughter."

"Exactly." Camila grumbled, standing up and taking her friend's hand. "I'm their daughter... I'm just a punching bag. Tonight, all I really want to do is abide by her wishes for one night, then she can shut up about it. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"You're going to help me pick out what to wear."

"What if I don't want to?"

Rather than replying, Camila yanked her friend down the stairs, into the confines of her own bedroom.

If it's a rebel you want, it's a rebel you'll get.

***

"So this is what your plan is? You're just going to drink your body weight in brown gunk and let bad decisions guide your entire night?"

Camila nodded soundly, placing the clear, circular shaped glass down on the bathroom counter. Her vacant hand then scooped up a burning iron that was radiating warmth and ready to curl. Behind her, Normani Kordei was leaning against the door's frame, her arms folded neatly and tucked against her body. Her naturally dark complexion and powerful body were familiar to Camila, and after two years, rightly so.

"My stupid mother said I needed to stop being such a bookworm, get up off my ass and break some rules, so that's what I'm going to do." Camila nodded with a shrug, winding a section of thick, dark brown hair around the iron and letting the handle clamp down. She didn't love having to rehash the story a second time. "She wants a wild daughter, so a wild daughter she shall have."

"I don't think that's what she meant." Normani sighed. "She's just worried about you, and honestly... so am I. You're always stressing out over your family, and it can't be any good for your body. Be a kid. You're still a minor, so you might as well advantage of it."

"You're still a minor too" Camila grumbled. "Your mother doesn't complain about her daughter not being rebellious enough, or needing to break a rule or two."

"That's because my mother is peaceful, east Texas church goer who enjoys crossword puzzles and hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since she was twenty-five." The girl replied without missing a beat. "While yours is a kick-ass, downtown Miami Latina who knows her way around a pair of designer sunglasses."

"And ugly sundresses."

"Camila." Normani's voice was scolding. "You know what I mean."

"And you know what I mean." Camila released the clamp, letting the warm, freshly curled lock of hair land lightly against the side of her face and travel down her neck. "Besides, she's not wrong about one thing. The four of us are going to have fun tonight." She then twirled a second lock, glancing up from where her focus was locked on the mirror. "Go get changed."

"I am changed." Normani lifted a single eyebrow.

"Oh." Camila shrugged. "Of course, I knew that. You look great."

"Asshole." Normani turned around, throwing Camila a grin in the mirror before turning the corner into her bedroom. Shifting her attention back to the mirror, the girl polished off the remainder of her glass and curled every section of hair before heading downstairs for a refill.

Downstairs, Ally was seated at the table, leaning forward and studying a circular makeup mirror. Around her was a colour wheel of brushes and palettes, mixed in with a number of open beer cans and half empty solo cups.

"Refill Mila?" She questioned, glancing up as she unclasped a thin silver curler over her right set of lashes.

"Refill." Camila affirmed with a nod, removing two ice cubes from the freezer's built-in tray and letting them settle to the bottom of her glass. There was a bottle of dark whisky she had been gifted a few months back tucked on her personal level of the pantry, and it was bound to satisfy the intoxication level required for the night.

"That stuff will get the job done." Ally crossed one leg over the other, setting down the curler and poking gently at the freshly shaped eyelash. "How many of those have you had?"

"A few." Camila sat down on the other side of the table and swirled the drink around momentarily before taking a long, very cold, very painful sip. The alcohol burnt like fire on the way down, creating a reverse heartburn that left behind a warm, tingling feeling.

"Not to bad huh?" Ally smirked, glancing to the stairs to the house's upper level. "Did the iron work okay? I wasn't sure if that old thing would do the trick anymore. Especially considering you have so much hair."

"It did great, thank you. I'm going to be borrowing a ton more of your stuff from now on." Camila smiled, leaning back in her chair and taking another sip. "Did Dinah say when she was going to be home?"

"Anytime now." Ally turned her attention back to her eyes. "And the minute she walks through the front door, we're going to call a taxi. In the rain, it's going to take them an extra ten minutes just to find the house."

"We can blame that on the cul de sac." Camila stood up, stumbling slightly when her line of sight tilted sightly to the left. Swearing softly, she heard the girl on the other side of the table make an amused noise and pause what she was doing.

"That's probably a sign to stop with the hard liquor." She commented through the smile, resuming to apply the eyelash curler to her left set. "Or you might not make it out of the driveway."

"I don't need to make it out of the driveway, I just need to make it to the taxi." The Latina mumbled, blinking a few times before grinning at her roommate and moving towards the basement door. Meandering her way down the stairs, Camila fumbled through the pitch black lower floor until she reached her bedroom door, which was conveniently wedged shut.

Swearing, the girl yanked the handle open and stumbled for the light switch, stepping on a number of clothing items that were haphazardly strewn across the carpeted floor. In a sequential order, she then pumped out a cloud of perfume and let it settle over her shoulders, tugged on a black leather jacket that cut above her waistline, and stuffed a few crumpled bills into the back pocket of her skin tight jeans.

Alright Mom. Camila mumbled silently, feeling the world sway just a touch more when she reached into the second drawer of her desk for the infamous fake ID. You wanted me to cut loose. If it's going to make you happy, then let's do this.

***

"So you want to have some fun tonight, now how much fun does that exactly entail?" Dinah Jane Hansen, an energetic, boundary-free blonde Polynesian asked from where she had claimed the front seat of the taxi.

"Let's go somewhere we can dance." Camila proposed with an inebriated purr, her dark eyes flickering with intoxication from the back seat. "Somewhere where I can stuff a Japanese man's business card into my boobs, and not have any recollection of it tomorrow."

"Ew." Normani muttered beside her, one arm propped up on the windowsill and the knuckles of her hand pressed to her temple. "That's very specific. Is it what your mother asked you to do in that letter she sent via snail mail, or was it an over-the-phone request?"

"Snail mail." Camila replied haughtily, leaning against the girl. Her quick, witty reply elicited an encouraging chuckle from the taxi driver. "She even drew me a diagram."

Normani shook her head, nudging the drunk girl away from her playfully. "You really do look hot tonight Camila." Ally noted, her eyes focused down on a bright screen in her hand. "I would be surprised if you ended up bringing home a little something."

"You're so sweet." Camila shifted all weight to her right, sidling up to the girl. "I love you Ally."

"I love you too Mila." The girl sighed, flicking off her phone and patting her on the shoulder. "You're very drunk."

"Very." Camila giggled, eyes widening when the car came to a slow stop, and the sound of rain pounding down on the roof became dominant. In the front, Dinah was fishing through her purse for a series of bills and handing them to the driver, while Ally already had the side door open.

"Come on." The girl had her arm, helping her rise out of the backseat and into the ruthless rain. Frowning at the depressed sky, Camila stumbled loosely over to the bar's weak awning and watched the others follow.

"It's raining." She commented, still leaning on Ally with her arm draped tight over the shorter girl's shoulder. "Look at the rain Ally, do you see it?"

"It's rain Camila, of course I see it." Ally guided her towards the door. "My god this is going to be a long night."

After tugging down the hem of her dress and flashing her fake ID, Camila discovered that the dreary inside of the bar looked similar to the dreary outside. But with music and a light or two. Additionally, the full effect of the hard liquor had revealed itself, and Camila knew she would only remember a fraction of the painted, grungy walls around her.

After an hour at that particular location, a further hour at a next, then another at a third, the foursome found a location that suited their fancy. Active, filled with top forty hits and flashy lights, Camila's inebriated mind was plenty satisfied.

"Let's get you a glass of water or something." Dinah's soft voice was close to Camila's ear, one hand landing on her back as she was guided to the front of the bar. "Or maybe a cup of coffee."

"Coffee." The brunette turned to her friend, wrinkling her nose up into a cute pout. "What are you, like eighty-thousand years old?"

"Man, you've got some attitude there, don't you?" Dinah teased, nodding to the muscular, black-outfitted man behind the counter who had a damp tea-towel over his shoulder and a steel shaker in both hands. "Getting completely shit-faced before midnight and insisting on a wild night - that's not the Camila Cabello I know."

"You should get to know her." Camila threw a sultry wink in her direction. "She's fucking great."

"Two of your cheapest beers please." A deep, male voice requested from a foot or two away. Turning around, Camila blinked in admiration at the sight of a strong, well-built athlete with an impressive letter jacket and a charming smile. She pursed her lip in thought, catching the boy's eye and grinning.

"Hi." She gave him a little wave, watching the light in his eyes flicker to her. "Nice jacket."

"Thanks." He nodded, accepting his drinks and turning to her. "I like your dress."

"Oh this old thing?" Camila tilted her head to the side, eyes flickering down to the fabric that clung to her body. "This is nothing."

"It's not nothing." The boy smiled, meeting her eyes before taking the bottle of beer in his left hand and sliding it to her by the neck. "Here, this is on me."

"Aw, thank you." Camila accepted the drink and took a long sip.

"How charming." Dinah muttered from behind, getting up from where she was leaned against the bar and taking Camila's arm, tugging her backwards. "Back off dude, she's not interested."

"Oh come on." The boy frowned at her. "Don't be like that, I'm harmless."

"Alright, picture this." Dinah got up, walking around to stand next to Camila. "You pick her up and bring her home, the two of you have a magical night together, and by some insane twist of fate, you start dating. You bring her to your games, she shows you her journal, the two of you chase each other through airports and go on mountaintop dates. Sounds good huh?"

"Yeah." The boy smiled down at Camila, who was listening happily.

"Then you get married, have two, beautiful mixed race babies, settle into your new life as parents, and all of a sudden, you know what?"

Dinah's voice trailed off slowly as she lifted a comical eyebrow and leaned forward.

"What?" Camila blinked.

"She leaves you for the hot nanny."

There was a moment of bass pumping, pseudo silence before the boy blinked and rolled his eyes. He then shrugged, gave Camila a quick smile, then dipped back into the quick moving crowd. The brunette looked up at her friend, eyebrows knit together.

"That was quite rude."

"You'll thank me tomorrow morning." Dinah replied with a pat to the shoulder. Her arm wound around the girl to retrieve a tall glass of ice water that the bartender had summoned are of charge. "Drink this, it'll make the night last longer."

Sighing, Camila accepted the glass and chased around the straw with her lips for a moment before taking a long swig. An ice cold sensation effectively cooled the unyielding burn in her throat, doing so all the way down until it was rendered undetectable.

"Camila, I hate to break the bad news, but there are no Japanese business men here either." Normani appeared through the vivid crowd, one hand occupied by a glossy blue drink, the other with her cell phone. "But I did find a nice group of fresh undergrads who probably wouldn't hate an experimental night or two. Do you want to go and chat them up?"

"Nah, Dinah made this un-exciting." Camila slurred, placing the glass water down on the bar counter and exchanging it for the half drunk beer. The others watched as the girl capable of fitting through a keyhole polished off the half beer like it was chocolate milk. "Let's get out of here and do something more interesting."

"More interesting?" Ally called over the sound of the music. "Camila, I just bought a drink with an olive speared through a toothpick on the edge. How can things get more interesting?"

Camila's eyes widened as she set the empty bottle down. "Let's get tattoos!"

Before the three girls could protest, Camila had scrambled from the bar counter to the front door, bumping into multiple innocent partygoers as she did moved. The others exchanged a moment of blank stares, before rushing after her, calling out a number of expletive filled warnings.

***

"Camila!" Normani called, flipping up the hood of her jacket. "Mila, wait! Hold on, where are you going?!"

"I told you!" Camila was already down the sidewalk, her blurry, slightly swaying line of vision focused on a small dark shop less than a block away with an old awning shielding the front door from the rain. "I'm going to get a tattoo!"

"Are you serious?!" Ally shouted, speeding up so her voice became closer. "Camila, tattoos are permanent, remember? Where are you even going?"

"This place!" Camila screeched to a stop beneath the awning, splaying herself up agains the window. The light inside was dim, yet on, despite the main room being vacant. As the other girls caught up, they surrounded her in confusion.

"Pins and Needles tattoo parlour?" Dinah questioned breathlessly, backing up to look at the sign. "There's a girl I see in a lot of my classes who works here, she's really adorable and super sweet."

"Not helping Dinah." Normani snapped. "Camila, if you walk in there the only thing you're going to get is hepatitis."

"So? That sounds fun." Camila scooted over and reached for the door, her wrist getting caught in Normani's hand.

"Hepatitis is not fun." The girl frowned, tugging her backwards. "How about we go and stop by the dollar store, and bring home some temporary tattoos, wouldn't that be a better idea? You can get a mean little skull, or a sparkly unicorn, and if you don't like it you can wash them all off tomorrow."

"No thanks Grandma." Camila wiggled out of her grip and grabbed the handle of the door, yanking it open and sliding inside.

The interior of the shop was like a steampunk play set, dressed with dark off-red lightning and wall art that was all kinds of unique. Looking around wide eyed and curious, Camila heard the chimes that hung above the front door go off as her roommates entered after.

"Mila, this place is downright creepy, and they probably won't even let you get a tattoo when you're so wasted, let's go." Ally scolded, the small brunette barely moving from the now closed door. Dinah and Normani were gazing around, but neither looked any more enthusiastic.

"Oh, I want that one!" Camila tipped backwards as she pointed to a wall photo of a large, angry looking scorpion covered in flames. "I want to tattoo that on my neck!"

"You're not doing that." Normani shook her head, trying to reach out for the brunette's hand again only to have her step away with a dazed stumble over her feet. "I don't know your mother very well, but I know she'll hate all three of us forever if we let you go thorough with something so ridiculous."

"Hello?" From behind a curtain at the side of the room emerged a lean girl with soft brown eyes and hair of hue to match. She had a blue t-shirt fitted tight to her body, and a pair of dark, highly torn jeans graced her legs. "Oh, I thought I heard someone come in. Wow, it's pretty late, can I help you guys?"

"Ooh, she's pretty." Camila marvelled, eyeing the girl up and down and taking a difficult-to-execute step forward. "I want a tattoo, will you give me one?"

"She's kidding." Dinah interrupted, grabbing Camila and giving her a gentle pull backwards. "She's had a little too much to drink tonight, haven't you Mila?"

"No, of course not." Camila shook her off, turning back to the artist and grinning. "Will you tattoo a mean little skull on my boob?" She asked, causing the girl's dark eyes to flicker with amusement.

"Sorry, we don't typically ink when you're drunk, it never really ends well." She shrugged. "But if you want, you're welcome to come back later when you're sober and we can poke and prod you like a piñata."

"See, I was right." Ally sighed in relief, placing her hand on Camila's shoulder. "Let's go Mila. We're sorry for wasting your time."

"No!" Camila wrenched away, a scowl crossing her face. "I want to get one now!"

"Camila." Ally scolded. "If I knew you were going to act like a five year old, I would have drank a lot more back there. Now for the last time, lets go."

"Not until I get a tattoo." Camila slurred, folding her arms and looking away.

The girl in the blue t-shirt laughed again, planting her hands on her hips. "If you're really that keen on getting inked, I might be able to have a word with my boss and see what she thinks." She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. "She typically won't make exceptions, but you never know."

"See? She's cooler than you guys." The Latina turned around and smirked at her friends, giving all three exasperated roommates a sassy look. "You party poopers can go do whatever you want, I'm going to stay here with..."

"Lucy." The girl filled in her name, nodding with a kind smile in Dinah's direction, who clearly recognized her.

"Lucy." Camila repeated, showing a row of white teeth in a wide grin.

"Alright, I'm out. Good luck Ally." Dinah slapped the shorter girl on the back and turned to the door, yanking it open and re-sounding the chimes.

"Same. Have fun." Normani followed suit, stepping out into the downpour.

"Wait!" Ally protested, her words lost on the other two as they made their way back to the bar. She then turned around to glare at Camila, who was still swaying back and forth with glee at her own drunken antics. "Alright Cabello. You have five minutes, then you're on your own."

Happy to have won the fight, Camila waited as Lucy vanished down a short hallway and behind a closed door before soft chatter echoed from within. A few seconds later, she re-emerged, behind her a second figure dressed in a black tank top that featured a scratchy band logo, and a pair of torn jeans.

"So I hear someone's had a little too much to drink?"

The voice was lower than Lucy's, coming from the girl behind her who's eyes quickly lifted to Camila. The brunette stood blinking, peering up at the new stranger with all the curiosity in the world. She was less than an inch taller, her hair jet black and falling at a mid-length below her shoulders. Pale complexion, bright eyes, and a fascinating jawline all combined with the blurry, somewhat spinning room made Camila very happy.

"Hi." She smiled big, involuntarily stepping forward to the girl. "You have pretty tattoos all over your arm."

"Yeah, it's a pre-requisite when you own a parlour." The stranger grinned, holding out her right arm, which was covered in black patterns, swirls, and a number of uniquely shaped red roses. "So what's the deal here?"

"This is Camila." Ally stepped forward and placed a firm hand on her roommate's arm. "She's being an idiot tonight, and apparently that means wanting to get a drunk tattoo."

"Huh." The girl shifted her gaze from Ally, back to a very giddy Latina. "I see. She looks like she's never touched a drop of alcohol in her life, what's the occasion?"

"Her parents wanted her to be more rebellious." Ally sighed. "So it'd be great if you could tell her no, and we can both move on with our lives."

The girl chuckled, lifting her chin. "You know, I get a lot of cases like this. Nerds come in all the time only weeks before spring break, wanting something to really kick their overly religious, born again parents in the crotch before they arrive back home." She tilted her head to the side, still staring at Camila, who was staring right back. "You look like a lightweight from down south. The tan, the giggly personality, that sparkle in your eye..."

"Floorida." Camila sang, stepping forward and placing her hands on the girl's shoulders, leaning body weight up against her. Near the exit to the store, Ally was rolling her eyes and leaning on a nearby counter, her head in her hands, while Lucy had perched herself on a stool a few feet away and was watching the exchange as if the only thing missing was a bucket of popcorn.

"Ah, so I was spot-on." The stranger nodded. "Sorry, but if you want me to take a needle anywhere near that sun-kissed complexion, you're going to need to come back with a blood alcohol level of zero."

"Camila gets really friendly when she's drunk." Ally mumbled from a few feet away, informing everyone in the room. "Did you hear that Mila? Now let's go back and find the others."

"Noo." The girl shook her head, lip curling up into a pout. She then focused her gaze on the tattooed stranger, searching her eyes for something. "You have such pretty eyes. They're like two big green apples. What's your name?"

"I'm Lauren." The girl smiled, her hands landing on Camila's sides. "And you can look at me like that all you want, but I'm still not going to put a single tattoo on you."

"Lauren." Camila repeated, the name flowing just as loose as the woozy feeling in her head. "Lauren. Lauuureen." She smiled running her tongue out over her lips. "That's such a nice name. It's like... a field of beautiful flowers."

"Flowers?" Lauren lifted an eyebrow, the smile not leaving her face. "Why flowers?"

"Because you smell like flowers." Camila replied, showing her teeth in her own version of a comically large smile. "And you're beautiful."

"Alright, that's it." Ally rose from the counter, summoning a pen from her back pocket and stalking forward to grab her roommate by the hand. She scrawled some words on the top of her forearm, then reached into the pocket of her jacket and resurfaced with a handful of random bills. "You two aren't going to kidnap or kill her, are you?"

"Hell no." Lauren was still gazing down at the intoxicated girl against her, clearly admiring something. "She's way too adorable for that."

"Great." Ally shoved the handful of bills at Lucy. "When you're finished with her, put her in a cab and send her to that address, the ride is on me."

"Oh." The brown eyed girl looked down at the money. "You're really okay with leaving her here?"

"Dinah said you were nice, so I trust you." Ally shrugged. "Take whatever she doesn't use and keep it for yourselves. Think of it as a consolation prize for having to deal with the sack of regret."

"I love you Ally!" Camila called, turning around in Lauren's arms and waving at her roommate.

"I'm aware!" Ally called back, exiting the parlour briskly and heading back down the sidewalk.

"Alright, so tell us why you want a tattoo." Lauren reached up and removed Camila's hands from her shoulders, holding her wrists to keep her from randomly tipping over. "And do you know what you want specifically?"

"Oh, and if you don't, we have tons of ideas." Lucy added, getting off her stool and traversing over to a well-stuffed binder full of white papers covered in a plastic lining. "We've actually drawn up a whole bunch of new ones recently."

Camila brightened immensely at the prospect of suggestions, wriggling away from Lauren and clumsily wandering over to where Lucy had half-migrated across the room. The walls swayed, and she stumbled over her feet once only to have one of the girls step closer and use the hand-on-waist technique to stop her from eating the floor. Approaching the brunette, Camila looked down to the binder and watched as the pages began to turn.

On each were numerous line drawn images of various symbols. From trees to dollar signs, wine glasses, planets, unicorns, and the occasional creative insect or flower. Camila did her best to drunkenly scan the pages, her eyes waiting for something worth latching on to. She stood up abruptly, her back straightening and with it, a powerfully dizzy sensation flashing up her spine.

"Careful." Lucy's soft voice was close, a hand landing on her back.

"I have an idea!" Camila's eyes lit up yet again. "I know what I want to get."

"What is it?"

"I want..." The brunette stalked boldly over to Lauren, who was standing a foot or two away with her weight on one foot and her arms folded. "I want your name. Tattooed right on my ass."

Lauren lifted a challenging eyebrow, dipping her chin down. "Wow, that's a first, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Lucy answered, laughing behind them as Camila pranced the rest of the distance between them and jabbed her pointer finger into the middle of her chest.

"That's what I want." She repeated. "Do it."

"Are you serious?" Lauren's eyes flickered with amusement. "That wasn't just a joke?"

"I don't joke about tattoos." Camila shook her head insistently. "Nor do I joke about pretty girls."

Lauren laughed, a subtle pink rising in her cheeks. "You can be as charming as you want Camila, I'm not—" Her voice trailed off and eyes lifted to the other side of the room. Camila blinked, tilting her head to the side like a curious bunny and watching the artist's expression shift. "Actually you know what? Maybe we can arrange a little something for you tonight."

Happiness bubbled up in Camila's chest as she was guided to one of the seats and instructed to lay lengthwise against the tight leather. Lauren had pulled a stool over and was in the midst of tying her hair up into a swift ponytail while Lucy took a seat on Camila's other side. "Ooh, is this going to be a joint effort?" She asked, craning her neck feebly.

"I could use a joint." Lauren mumbled, accepting something from her employee across Camila's body. "Alright, you said you wanted my name?"

"Mmhm." Camila nodded, confident in her decision. "Your full name. What is your full name by the way?"

"You'll see when you look at the tattoo." Lauren sounded smug. The next thing Camila felt was her fingers, grazing the space at her hip as she lifted the hem of her top and had Lucy hold it out of the way. "You might feel a little bit of cold sensation Camila, it's normal."

"Okay." Camila closed her eyes and let the dizzying drunk spell her body was under nullify the pain. She felt Lauren's hand press against her hip bone, and a chilling yet smooth feeling start to trail from her waist up around to her tailbone. "Mm, it doesn't hurt at all. You're really good at this!"

"Try not to move." Lauren inched closer, her body language screaming focus. Camila sat as still as possible while on her right, Lucy continued to reach for new supplies and hand them across the seat. Ten minutes later, the tattoo artist leaned away and capped a black tube, setting it down and rolling around to Camila's head. Admittedly, the brunette had started to feel the fatigue from her inevitable drunk crash and was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

"Feeling okay?" Lauren questioned, leaning forward on her knees. "It looks like you're getting tired."

"Mmhm." Camila murmured, yawning. "Is it done?"

"It's done." The girl smiled, green eyes amused. "How about we call you and taxi and I'll bring you back home."

"Bring me back home." Camila repeated goofily, offering a lazy smile. "You're so sweet."

"Come on." Lauren seemed content, holding out her hand nodding up to Lucy. "Let's get you to bed."

One taxi ride later, Camila was stumbling out of the backseat and fighting the urge to vomit as she peered up at the dark and vacant shared house. Lauren had stepped out as well, instructing the taxi to give her two minutes to lead the brunette back inside.

"Alright, when you're sober tomorrow you can take a look at the ink on your ass and thank me then." She patted the girl on the shoulder and started towards the door. Camila remained where she was, looking from the inside of the house, over to Lauren then back again.

"Wait, are you leaving?" The brunette questioned sadly, her feet close together and eyes large. "Don't leave."

"You should get some sleep." Lauren glanced over her shoulder, smiling. "It's probably best for you to be distraction free tonight."

"You're not a distraction." Camila followed her, taking the girl by the arm and pulling her backwards. "Just come inside with me, I don't want to be by myself."

"What about your roommates?"

"They're not home." The girl whined, gesturing to the blackness inside the house. "Please?"

Lauren rolled her eyes, nodding over to the taxi and letting the driver pull away. Grinning, Camila yanked her clumsily towards the front door and after dropping the key twice, managed to get inside.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." Lauren bargained, kicking off her battered combat boots and grabbing Camila before she stumbled to the ground. "Deal?"

"Okay." Camila led her new friend down to the basement bedroom, kicking off her shoes and covering them with her jacket to form a neat pile of discarded clothing. Despite the room being large enough to house a double bed, it only contained a single, leaving plenty of floor space for guests. Camila was guided to the bed, sitting down and clumsily removing her earrings.

"Sleep." Lauren accepted the jewelry in the palm of her hand and gestured for her to lay back. "And stay on your side just in case."

"Can you tuck me in?" The brunette asked, yawning.

Smirking wordlessly, Lauren drew a mountain of fluffy white duvet up around her chest, patting her shoulder gently. "Now sleep."

"Wait." Camila grabbed hold of her wrist, then patted the minimal space next to her. "Stay here."

"Wow, you really are friendly when you're drunk." Lauren remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll sit here as long as you actually try to go to sleep. Lie back and close your eyes."

Doing so, Camila kept a strong hold on the green eyed girl's wrist and forcibly pulled her backwards so they were both resting against the mattress. There was no space, not even an inch of air to breathe as she tucked her arms around the girl's shoulders and held her there. "Goodnight Lauren."

"Nice try." Lauren disconnected her hands, moving them away slowly before sitting up again. "Come on Camila, I'm serious. Sleep now, okay?"

"Why won't you cuddle with me?" Camila's eyes began to grow big again, her mouth curling down into a small pout. "You don't want to?"

"Yes and no." Lauren smirked. "Also if I lie down I'm going to fall asleep, and tomorrow morning you're going to have a fit because there's a stranger in your bed that you can't remember meeting."

Camila frowned, reaching out and balling her fists into the back of the girl's dark green flannel. She pulled backwards, hoping Lauren would just fold and lay with her again. "I won't have a fit, I promise." The brunette stumbled over her words, her head spinning. "I'll remember you. No one could forget your face. Your eyes."

"Smooth." Lauren managed to stray away from falling back against the bed, but the tiny Latina was a touch stronger than she looked.

"Please Lauren?" Camila murmured again. "Snuggle."

"If I snuggle, do you promise to fall asleep?"

"Yes."

Camila squirmed happily as her new friend finally complied, the single mattress caving a little as Lauren set her weight down to the pillow below. "Alright." The green eyed girl's husky whisper followed. "Now close your eyes."

***

It was three am when Lauren woke dazed and within the walls of a very unfamiliar room. She groaned to herself, wishing she had taken the one night she had off to get some extra sketches done and catch up on the weekly mock-ups for some particularly impatient customers. Instead she had been roped into bringing home some lightweight undergrad and putting her to bed, not unlike a glorified babysitter. Sitting up, Lauren glanced down to the other side of the cramped bed to see it was pitifully empty.

"For fuck's sake." The girl muttered, tearing off her flannel and tossing it onto the nearby desk chair before stalking out of the room. "Where did she go— Camila!" She whisper-yelled into the open hall of the basement, walking past a small bathroom with a full length mirror and walk-in shower. There was a laundry room on the opposite side, a noisy water softener, a furnace and some high end appliances all sitting tucked within. "Camila?" She poked her head into the bathroom, half expecting to see the girl throwing up whatever crap she had drank only hours before, but it was empty. Taking a deep breath, Lauren started up the stairs and cracked the door open only an inch to see a single light on in the kitchen, and a series of dressy shoes by the door. Ready to apologize to whatever other inhabitants of the house happened to be stirring in the middle of the night, she opened the door and stopped cold when the only thing in the kitchen was sitting on the ground in a bra and underwear, still very drunk, and fumbling with a box of frozen corn-dogs.

"Camila!" She hissed, hurrying over. "What the hell are you doing awake?"

"I was hungry." Camila shrugged, looking up and smiling wide. "Ooh, you're finally up. Come here and help me."

"Camila, it's the middle of the night. You can't possibly be—" Lauren's voice trailed off. "Never mind. If I help you make those, will you promise to get into bed and stay there this time? I don't want to be waking up every hour to make sure you're not dead somewhere!"

"Help me." Camila whined, holding the box out and completely ignoring every other thing Lauren had said. "Pleeeease."

"Quiet." Lauren commanded, swiping the box away. Cursing under her breath, she found a plate on one of the upper cupboards and quickly microwaved two of the corndogs inside, opting to remove the sharp pointy stick before holding the plate out above the girl. "Okay, let's go back downstairs so you don't wake up the rest of your roommates."

"I want to eat them here." Camila pouted, now stretched out across the kitchen floor with her arms above her head. Lauren could count her ribs as she moved, the smooth expanse of bronzed torso flexing with the thin muscle beneath. Cursing again, she lowered the plate to the ground, straightening up again to see the girl's brown eyes turn to her, unimpressed. "Ketchup." Camila insisted, sitting up and crossing her legs.

"Fucking—" Lauren bit her lip, yanking open the fridge and retrieving a half-drained bottle of ketchup from the back of the door.

"Will you draw a picture?" Camila was already holding her plate up above her head. "With the ketchup?" Wordlessly, Lauren swiped the plate away a second time and set it on the counter, popping the cap from the bottle and using the bright red condiment to draw a simple heart on the plate between the corndogs.

"For this I went to the Rhode Island School of Design." Lauren muttered, handing the plate back and crouching down to watch Camila's eyes brighten with happiness.

"It's a heart cause you love me." She dipped her chin down, an adorable smile slowly creeping onto her face. Lauren suddenly found herself doing everything she could to not mirror it. She hovered over Camila, waiting for the girl to scarf down both corndogs and lick her fingers as the empty plate clattered to the floor in a manner far too loud for the morning hour.

"Okay." Lauren took a deep breath, holding out her hand. "Let's get you back downstairs and get a little rest tonight. You're going to be hating yourself tomorrow morning." Pulling Camila to her feet, Lauren quickly disposed of the plate in the kitchen sink and guided her back to the lower floor, through the bedroom door before she collapsed lazily on the fluffy rug. With somewhat exasperated exhale, Lauren knelt down, intending on hauling the younger girl to her feet yet again.

"Wait." Camila stopped her, scratching idly at her stomach. "Sit here."

"Why?"

"Tell me about yourself."

Lauren blinked. "Honey, I know you don't care about myself right now. Get off the ground."

"Yes I do." Camila insisted, taking her by the arm and pulling downwards. "I want to know everything about you."

Sighing, Lauren finally folded to one of her ridiculous demands, sitting crosslegged on the carpet and pulling the body art pen she stashed in the front pocket of her jeans. She began to fiddle with it, twirling the pen between her fingers while Camila watched with interest. "Alright then." The green eyed girl almost challenged. "But if you really want to do this, you've got to go first. Why did you get so wasted tonight?"

"My mom hates who I am." Camila slurred back, leaning back on her elbows and adjusting the right cup of her bra. "She wanted me to be more of an idiot."

"So that's also why you wanted to get a tattoo?" Lauren pressed, a glint of interest in her eye.

"Yeah." The drunk girl nodded. "I'm not very good at drinking. I don't do it a lot, I like to study more."

"So your mother actually wanted you to be a little reckless tonight?" Lauren nodded. "I mean it's unusual, but I guess every parenting choice for itself."

"She just doesn't want me to grow up to be anything like my father." Camila shrugged. "He's kinda uptight and it makes their marriage hard. They fight all the time, and it really hurts my little sister."

"That must be tricky, especially considering you're not at home anymore."

"Yeah." Camila nodded, doing all she could to hold back tears. It resulted in the need to constantly rub at the irritation in her eyes. "It makes me scared to think all the fighting might escalate, and I won't be there to hold them together. I— I don't know... sorry."

"Don't be." Lauren smiled. "If it helps, I don't think you're uptight at all... I think you're pretty cool. You can tell them both that."

"I think I will." Camila gave her a small smile. "What about you? How did you end up owning such a cool tattoo shop?"

"I love art." Lauren shrugged. "I grew up in New York, my parents were both on wall street and they really hate any kind of creative expression. It just doesn't make sense to them." She looked down. "But it always made sense to me."

"Why would your parents hate creative expression?" The brunette draped over the carpet tilted her head to the side curiously. "I thought New York was the centre of the art world."

"It may be, but that was never the world they lived in." Lauren fought the insecure urge to run her fingers through her hair and make it look presentable. The room was dark, neither girl could see very well. "They didn't like tattoos, they didn't like that I wanted one, and they didn't respect my life choices. I guess I just wanted to start over, get a new perspective on everything... so I went to school for design, moved away with my best friend and opened my own parlour."

"Your parents don't respect your life choices?" Camila echoed softly. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know how it is." Lauren shrugged, the quiet laugh that escaped her humourless and dry. "The conservative parents with booming companies don't believe in bisexuality. They don't accept that their precious daughter has found a lifelong passion with her best friend and they both want to be somewhere they can chase their dreams. They cut her off and stop calling, she loses her sense of home... it's fine. We all have our issues." Taking a deep breath, Lauren set the pen in her hand down on the carpet. "It doesn't matter anymore. I can fend for myself, and I really don't need anyone... so I'm over it."

"That's awful." Camila wiped her eyes, reaching for the pen and clumsily picking it off the ground. "No parents should ever stop loving their children because of something like that."

"Yet they do." The green eyed girl nodded. "All over the world, every single day." She took the pen away gently, grasping Camila's hand in the process and turning her wrist up to expose the smooth blank skin, warm to the touch. Uncapping it with her teeth, Lauren used the pen to ink a circular peace sign against the flesh. "I make art because it liberates. It peels away the mask that we all wear every single day, the layer of insecurity and self-doubt that waking up and going outside can ensue no matter who you are or where you might be in your life. I can draw something on your skin that may mean nothing to me, but everything to you. I can paint a picture with cheap dollar store paints and an old cardboard box that could change the way you see the world."

"Can you draw on me some more?" Camila questioned only seconds after Lauren finished, moving her wrist closer. "Please? I want to see all the kinds of art you can make."

Lauren capped the pen. "Maybe when you're feeling a little more up to it, you can swing by the parlour and I'll show you some of the designs we've whipped up. Remember I've still got you booked in for an ink appointment." She joked.

"No." Camila cut her off. "I want to see the art that your parents hate so much. I want to see you."

The way the drunk girl spoke, the emotion behind her words and veil of censorship that had been lifted with the alcohol, it was all very overwhelming. There was something flashing behind Camila's brown eyes, an energy that was much unlike the feats of childhood wonder she had thus far been exemplifying since the minute her very intolerant roommates had followed her into the shop. Lauren started to feel an anxious pressure rain down on her chest, and she uncapped the pen again.

"Alright then." The girl stood for a moment to retrieve her phone from her back pocket, and a pillow from the bed, placing the latter down on the floor. "Lie back then. Make sure to keep your right arm out for me."

More than happy to oblige, Camila settled against the pillow, closing her eyes and letting Lauren go to work. A few minutes into a simple sketch of the world's countries against her inner arm, the artist had assumed her new inebriated friend had fallen into a deep sleep, but was starkly taken aback when she suddenly looked up with a grin. "That's so pretty." She commented, craning her neck to look at her arm.

"Shh." Lauren told her kindly. "Just relax."

With a meek nod, Camila lay back but kept her eyes open, gazing up at Lauren and watching every furrow of her eyebrow, every movement that the corner of her lip made as she drew one line after the other. It was a good ten minutes later when Lauren had completely covered the girl's right arm in a little bit of everything she could think to create. She moved on to the stomach and ribs, the simple black pen going to work once more with a intricate pattern of diamonds and dots creased against the space below her breasts. She covered Camila's navel and the surrounding lean muscle with a large butterfly, then layered the space just above her hips with a strip of roses. Working her way up, Lauren inked a sun just above the left breast, carrying it up towards the clavicle, a moon on the right, and a series of stars in the centre of her chest. Despite being terribly overtired and only able to see by the light of her phone, she was satisfied with the turnout.

"I want to see." Camila spoke up some time later, breaking the comfortable silence. Somewhat shocked that the girl still wasn't passed out and snoring, Lauren nodded, recapping her worn out pen and getting to her feet, holding out her hands. She walked Camila through the dark to the bathroom, flicking on the soft yellow lights and positioning her in front of the full-length mirror. A shocked smile crossed her face as she scanned herself up and down, holding out her arm and brushing her fingers across the body ink on her chest and ribs. "Lauren... this is so beautiful!" The girl exclaimed, tipping backwards just a touch in time for the green eyed girl to catch her and keep her upright. "Wow!"

"You should take a picture and pretend they're all permanent tattoos. Can you imagine what your mother would say?"

"Do it." Camila prodded goofily at the phone now in Lauren's hand. She walked around, standing just behind the slender brunette and using her fingers to part her hair to the side. Holding up the phone, Lauren took a flash enhanced picture, her body tensing when an overly friendly Camila wound her arms around her tank-top clad torso and tucked gently against her just in time for the camera to go off. "Oh." Lauren managed to murmur, her voice coming out at a far higher tone than she wanted.

"You know, I dated a girl once." Camila murmured softly.

"Interesting."

"It was freshman year." The brunette continued, still looking in the mirror. Due only to her body language, Lauren was confident that it wasn't her own reflection Camila was looking at. "I was experimenting. We met at a party... actually one of the only house parties I decided to go to within the first few weeks. We hooked up, dated for a few weeks, then part ways with a handshake and a curse word or two." Camila trailed off. "Ever since then I've sorta stopped going to parties."

Lauren lowered her phone, trapping the body pen in between her teeth so she could scroll to the newly shot picture. Camila's close proximity forced her to drape the arm around her neck, resting her wrist on the girl's shoulder while her attention was lent to the phone. "The art looks good." She mused, tilting the phone at an angle.

"Just the art?" The brunette pouted. "Really?"

"You would look good too if you'd stop this foolishness and get some sleep." Lauren locked the phone and slid it into her pocket again, nudging Camila to the bedroom. "I'm serious this time. No more food, no arts and crafts, no heart-to-heart talks, just go to bed."

With a meek nod, Camila followed her direction, returning to the bedroom and snuggling down between the sheets. Lauren didn't argue while for the second time, the younger girl took her by the hand and pulled her down to the bed, curling up to her side and smiling as her eyes fell closed.

"You're not going to remember this tomorrow morning." Lauren murmured as Camila's breathing levelled out. "You're not going to remember where you were after the club, how the art got there... you're not going to remember me." She pulled the lid off her pen one more time and drew a quick sketch of a map, a series of gridlines and a few symbols on each against the inner crease of the girl's blank arm. "Maybe you'll find your way back, maybe you'll never bother to give this a second thought when it wears off... you never know." She whispered, filling in a dot at the intersection between two particularly familiar lines.

The contact didn't seem to rouse Camila, giving Lauren the chance to slide off the bed and find her shoes, using the light of her phone to redirect herself to the room's exit. It was almost four-thirty, the early morning sky was beginning to shine through in a deep purple.

One last look at the inebriated, slumbering brunette twisted up in the bed's comforter sent a chill down Lauren's neck, her heart suddenly fluttering in a way it hadn't in years.

Maybe tomorrow you'll come back, and we can have a real conversation about that tattoo on your ass.

***

It was a dream, but Camila didn't care. The stranger she spent her slumbering hours thinking about was perfect. "You're mine, and I love you." Her voice was soft, kind and with more compassion than Camila had ever heard from a conscious being. Her arms were strong, tucked tight around her in times when nausea bubbled in her gut and there to catch her as she fell. She was filled with love, yet Camila couldn't seem to see her face. The image was blurry, all she managed to remember were dual curtains of dark hair, a low raspy voice and a green flannel.

There were dates. Many of them, to movies, beaches, restaurants and everything in between. The girl sat down, sharing her darkest secrets and waiting to hear Camila's own. There were conversations, tears, reassurances and sleepless nights. Springs, summers, falls, winters, cold mornings and phone calls. She was young, she had never done anything so pure before, never been placed in a role that desired anything more than a series of notebooks and a lecture hall.

There were kisses. Dozens upon dozens of them, each more tender than the last, each with more love. Evenings in bed that turned into mornings, celestial bodies rising and falling yet time never seemed to budge.

But within the dream, things were different. Camila wanted fresh meals sizzling on the stove. She wanted a backyard, a house cat, a mailbox and a tire swing. She wanted to lose earphones and house keys, break dishes the stranger left in the sink and trip over dripping canvases in the middle of the night. Camila wanted a ring, tucked neatly on her left hand and glittering even if there was no sun in the sky.

The day was half over when she finally woke in painful yearning. She was groggy, sweaty, uncomfortable and aching via every nerve-activated muscle her body had. Opening her eyes, the girl sat up, detaching from the pillow she was hugging and running her fingers through her hair.

"Fuck." Camila muttered into the empty room, a dizzying feeling accompanying the raging hangover. "When I get my hands on those three I swear I'm gonna—" Cutting herself off, the brunette caught wind of the marks on her arms, holding them out. It took a matter of seconds for her to drag herself from the bed to the bathroom, throw on a pair of sweatpants, look in the mirror and catch wind of the ink that coated her body. Panic flared up in her chest, and the moment she heard the footsteps above, Camila tore up the stairs, bursting into the kitchen.

"Oh my god, holy crap Mila you scared the hell out of me." Dinah turned around, a half-blended smoothie in one hand and a banana in the other. When she saw her roommate, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "What the fuck?! What's that all over your body?!"

"You better explain this." Camila gritted, swearing silently at the intensity of her headache. It seemed to be the lesser of two evils considering the ink all over her body. "What the fuck did we do last night?!"

"Honestly?" Dinah shrunk back. "I don't remember either. I think we made it to the club... you were completely wasted and we... ugh, I don't know. I need this smoothie so bad right now."

"Dinah please." Camila rubbed at the ink on her stomach, a sick feeling rising in her chest when she discovered it didn't smudge. "Tell me this isn't permanent."

"No idea." Dinah shook her head, taking a long sip of the pale pink liquid. A series of quick footsteps from the second floor had Camila rushing to the bottom of the stairs, glaring up.

"Oh my god..." Ally was on her way down, the handful of papers that had been previously neatly organized and in her arms now dropped to the ground and sliding messily down the remaining steps. "Camila... what did you do last night?"

"Are you seriously asking me that question right now?" The Latina demanded as Ally made it to the ground floor and picked up her scattered papers. "I literally don't remember anything right now, I'm about ten seconds from throwing up all over you, and I look like the fucking sistine chapel! What the hell did we do!?"

"You're not going to like the answer."

"What's the answer."

"You dragged the three of us to a tattoo parlour."

With a soft groan, Camila migrated to the couch in the living room and succumbed to the pain radiating in her skull. She closed her eyes, shivering when Dinah headed over and draped a nearby blanket over her body and squeezed her shoulder. A few seconds later, a familiar ringtone sang through the room.

"Camila, that's your phone." Ally informed her, placing a hand on her leg. "Mila?"

"I'll get it." Dinah hurried over to the jacket that Camila had dropped messily on the dining room table the night before. "Hello? Oh hi Sinu, no this is Dinah. Camila's a little tired this... afternoon. She's just lay down for a— oh... um, sure." The blonde drew the phone away. "Camila, your mother needs to talk to you about something. It's serious."

Sitting up wearily, Camila tucked the blanket around her body and nodded, taking the device. "Hi Mom. Now's really not that great a time. Remember that being reckless, breaking a few rules, thing you put on me yesterday? Yeah turns out that was a bad idea."

"Camila, I just need you to listen for a moment." Sinhue Cabello sounded weary and overtired. "Because your father left me last night."

The sound of glass shattering echoed in the back of Camila's head, the pain reaching an absolute peak. "What?"

"I'm sorry Cami, but last night was just too much, it's become a too toxic of a household for Sofi, and your father and I just can't continue this way. He stayed at a friend's place last night, and will move out this weekend. We'll share custody of—"

"You can't do this!" Camila exclaimed, rising from the couch and walking mindlessly to the middle of the room. "Oh my god!"

"Camila, I know this is going to be a difficult change for you, but we wanted to make sure you knew as early as possible. Please, this is what's best for both of us, and for the two of you."

Dinah and Ally had circled around her, looking at each other in concern as the tone of the conversation took it's dark turn. " So mother, what you're telling me is that after an entire afternoon of you nagging me about being a certain way and insisting that I was too much of a personality you didn't like, you're turning around and telling me that the best safety net in my life right now is just going to up and disappear? My only real sense of home?! Really? And you're doing it over the phone! What kind of parent are you?!"

"Look, the only time that your father and I have been able to have a civil conversation is when the two of us sit down and begin talking plans for divorce. That's all there is to it. You're still going to have both of us in your life, things will go on as normal, the two of us will just live lives independent from each other. Everything will be okay honey, I promise. We won't need to rely on you anymore, you won't be burdened with trying to keep this family together."

"Whatever." Camila muttered, backing up and falling against the couch again. "I have to sleep right now, we'll talk about it later." Without waiting for a response, the brunette hung up the phone and tossed it across the room. The expensive device bounced across the carpeted floor, landing at Dinah's feet. "Fuck this. All of it."

"I'm sorry Camila." Ally sat down at her side while Dinah picked up the phone, set it on the kitchen table and followed suit. "But what she said, that wasn't untrue... it's going to be alright, and in the end this is a good thing. If your parents can't be happy together, then maybe it's best for them to be happy apart."

"She's right." Dinah tucked an arm around her. "And Sofi will understand. She's in good hands right now, and they'll explain everything to her in a calm, collected way."

"Are either of your parents divorced?" Camila muttered, standing up and brushing her roommates off, heading to the basement door.

"No..." Dinah echoed quietly.

"Exactly." Camila yanked the door open. "I just want to be alone right now."

***

Camila stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the lines of each image inked on her skin. She seemed foreign to herself, her complexion used as a canvas for someone's otherworldly pleasure. Despite the anger swirling in her gut and the headache that was far worse than any ailment from her childhood, the girl had to admit that whoever had decided to mark up her body had done a good job. The artist behind the lines was talented, and clearly more confident in their abilities than Camila ever had been in her own hobbies.

Traversing back to her room, Camila noticed something draped haphazardly over the back of her desk chair. A plaid flannel shirt that smelled strongly of vanilla, unbuttoned with one sleeve rolled up and the other heavily wrinkled. Grabbing it, the girl was instantly hit with the foggy memory of a stranger in her room the night before. A girl, no more than an inch or two taller than her always close with a steady hand on her back so she didn't fall. Light eyes, dark hair, but a face and name that was blurred out by the effects of a strong drink and loud music. Swearing, Camila flipped the shirt inside out, her heart falling when she discovered that the tag had been torn out. Collapsing on her bed, the brunette shut her eyes in frustration, letting the pain from her hangover lull her back to sleep.

The dreams were stronger the second time. Rather than a domestic fantasy played out in the clouds, Camila found herself voluntarily standing in front of a girl whose parents stood shoulder to shoulder and disapproved of them both. "She's your daughter." Camila spat, her voice cold and full of hate and aimed directly at the baby boomers who looked on in distaste. "You thought she'd measure up until she brought me around huh? That's your problem? I'm just a photo of your own damn failures, a fucking gold trophy made of paper and scotch tape. We don't need you! We don't need parents!"

Slowly, the two people backed off, their silhouettes fading away into the darkness until she and the mysterious girl were along again.

"That was amazing." The girl's rough, raspy voice was angelic with the acoustics of a lucid dream. "You're amazing."

"Who are you?" Camila asked, unashamed of her complete sense of cluelessness. "Tell me."

"We're like tourists in a foreign land." The girl replied gently. "I'm an artist. I'm lost, pushed far away from their home and struggling to find peace in anyone else. I need someone to lead me back. Will you?"

The ceiling of her bedroom came into focus before the dream girl could give any kind of answer. It was pitch black outside, the windows to the room now rendered useless as the sun fell. "Fuck." Camila muttered, sitting up at the sound of footsteps above. Normani had come home, now all three girls sat around the dining room table eating Indian takeout and playing a very curry splattered game of Euchre. Making herself known by clearing her throat, Camila held the green flannel against her chest and assumed a seat at the end of the table.

"Mila, the girls told me about your parents." Normani began. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." Camila grumbled, lowering her head into her arms. "I did everything I could right? I guess it just wasn't enough, I mean kids are never enough." She then sat up, moving the shirt away. "So do you want to tell me where the hell we were last night so I can figure out who had the nerve to tattoo me when I was a wasted mess?"

"Oh wow." Normani blinked. "That's... wow..."

"Please tell me you remember what hell we went through last night. Please?"

"It was a tattoo parlour... fuck I can't remember the name." Normani looked to her curry-eating roommate down the table. "Ally, you were the most sober."

"No I wasn't." Ally chewed. "I left Camila alone with two strangers... and I think I gave one of them fifty bucks cash."

"You left me alone?" Camila glared over the container of rice. "Are you serious?"

"And I lost fifty bucks cash."

"Hold on, there were two strangers? When I was that wasted? In a place where there were a million, probably unsterilized needles?!"

"Camila, we're going to figure this out." Ally stood up, reaching for her laptop on the adjacent chair. "We'll start by doing a web search of all the tattoo parlours downtown. Then we can all march down to each one and threaten to sue if they don't agree to remove all that off your body for free." After a few seconds of furious typing, her face fell. "Okay, so there are a lot more parlours in this little town than I thought... this might put a dent in my plan."

"What if called the taxi company and—" Dinah started before glancing at Camila with a small frown. "Hey, what's that on your inner arm?"

"What?" The girl held out her left arm, peering down to see a series of odd gridlines, solid symbols and a rather suspicious dot. "I don't know, maybe just a really lazy game of tic tac toe. Finish what you were going to say about the taxi company."

Dinah stood up, walking over and taking Camila's arm, holding it out over the table. "No Mila, look. It's a map. There's a sushi place back in California that my family and I used to go to on New Years, they have a little map just like this on each individual chopstick packet. So when they do deliveries, every customer has directions to get to the actual restaurant. It's kinda genius."

Camila frowned at the ink. "So whoever decided to write all over me was kind enough to leave a map to find them?"

"Let me see." Ally slid her computer across the table, peering down at the art. "Oh, it looks like an intersection a block down from a church... a grocery store... oh, that's the club we went to. It was called Monarch." Camila craned her neck to look over her friend's shoulder and see on the screen was a full-sized map of the neighbourhood, her cursor hovering over the nightclub. "So if we were here... then you drunkenly dragged us towards Joel's meat shop, and a few doors down is... the Pins and Needles tattoo parlour. That's it Camila!"

Narrowing her eyes, Camila launched herself off the chair and turned around, just in time for all three of her roommates to gasp in a oddly harmonious fashion. "Lauren..." Normani breathed, causing the Latina to whip around with a start and gaze at her.

"What did you say?"

"Lauren." Normani repeated, pointing to something just behind Camila. "That's what it says on your tailbone, that must be who put all that crap on your chest and stomach. Lauren."

Three times. The name had been bled into the air three times before Camila suddenly remembered the flash of a smartphone camera, the full length mirror in the bathroom and an arm draped over her shoulder safe and secure. "Oh my god..." She murmured, grabbing her jacket and throwing it on over the very minimal bra and sweatpants. "I have to go down there right now."

"Right now?" Dinah's jaw dropped. "Camila, it's almost midnight, there isn't going to be anyone at that place anymore. Just grab some butter chicken, drink some water and we'll cuddle up and watch something on Netflix. Maybe put a shirt on as well, the more you look at that mess all over your top half the more you're going to hate yourself for it."

"No, I have to go now." Camila slung her canvas shoulder-bag over her body and tied her impossibly long hair into a  messy ponytail. The sleeves of the strange green flannel were tugged tight around her hips, knotted at the waistband of her sweatpants. "If I'm not back in a few hours call the cops."

Before any of her roommates could argue, the girl bounded into the garage and grabbed her bike, lifting the vertical sliding door and taking off down the road. Skidding down the near empty streets, she threaded through the parked cars of the downtown core. It was a small town in a rural neighbourhood, full of  closed minds, peaceful family-goers and a population of college students meant that many of the stores were worn down and run by the grandchildren of multiple generations. At night, there were a few clusters of rowdy students, none of them taking notice of the hungover girl who looked like she stepped out of Warped Tour.

The Pins and Needles parlour had an empty parking lot, a long strip of neon lights that lined the awning and carried into the flickering open sign. A woman stood by the door, fumbling with the lock on the front door.

"Hello?" Camila called, coming to a clumsy stop in the barren lot and throwing her bike to the ground. "Hey, are you closed?"

"Sorry girl, just locked up." The woman turned around. She was covered in tattoos, her hair an electric blue and tucked underneath a knitted beanie. "If you want to come back tomorrow, we open around eight. Wow... that's some pretty awesome art you got. Aren't you cold?"

"I'm fine." Camila brushed her off. "Look, I think I was here last night, but I was also really drunk and I don't remember. Do you think I could get inside?"

"What?" The girl frowned. "Why would you need to get inside?"

"I just...um... I think I left something in there."

The blue-haired stranger smiled. "I can't let you in again tonight, but I promise you'll be the first one on the waiting list tomorrow morning." Without another word, she gave Camila a kind wave and started down the street, finding a vibrant red vehicle and sliding behind the wheel. Camila watched with a deflated expression as the area fell silent and the only sound was the awkward buzz from the broken streetlights above.

She was alone, but she didn't want to be. She wanted to be back home, trying to explain to her little sister that everything would work out in the end, and the eight year old would forever have all her love. She wanted to find the girl that haunted her dreams, to return her shirt and see her eyes. Camila backed up so she was leaning against the small building, sliding to the ground and curling her legs tight against her chest. Head hiding away into her arms, the brunette would have been content sitting on the concrete for the rest of the night, trying to hold back the tears while she accepted rock bottom.

It took her a few minutes to realize that the neon open sign above her had been turned on.

"What the fuck?" Camila asked the open air, jumping to her feet with a start and wiping her eyes. Through the blind-covered window, there was a hint of movement before the lock on the door was removed.

"Holy shit!" The girl who was just leaving the parlour with a bag over her shoulder jumped a near ten feet in the air when she turned around and saw Camila standing a foot or two away. "What the hell? Who are— oh my god it's you!"

She was very beautiful, slender, even more so that the Latina herself with light brown hair, eyes dark as night and a baby face. Small dimples formed at the corner of her lips when she smiled, familiarity flickering in her eyes as she soaked in Camila's appearance. "You— remember me?" Camila frowned, looking at her cautiously. "Who are you?"

"You don't remember do you?" The girl laughed, closing the door with a soft click. "My name's Lucy. I work here, I met you last night when you and your friends came in after some pretty heavy drinks..." Her sentence trailed off when she looked down at the ink covering Camila's body. "Oh whoa... looks like Lauren got  a little creative last night. She's got this thing for just inking no matter what kind of situation she's in, I keep telling her how inconvenient... not to mention how illegal it can be sometimes, but she doesn't listen to me."

Camila's pulse began to pick up. "Is she in there?"

"Not sure." Lucy shrugged. "Shantae usually closes up, but I don't think she knew I was finishing up a few mock-ups when she left a few minutes ago. The place was quiet when I walked out, but Lauren might still be in the back." The girl turned. "If you want I can let you in and you can find out for yourself. Just make sure the door closes securely behind you. It'll lock by itself."

"Oh, thank you. I appreciate it."

"You're really a completely different person when you're not wasted." Lucy commented before angling her body towards the sidewalk.

"That's never happening again." Camila agreed. "Have a good night Lucy. And thank you again."

"Anytime." Lucy nodded. "You too Camila."

Grateful that for once, someone had proven to be an asset the first time around, Camila slipped into the store and looked around, letting the door click closed behind her. There were a few lights on, dimmed down as not to imply anyone was home, the blinds shut and keeping out views from the street. A series of stuffed binders, stools on wheels and leather dentist chairs were set up around the room, eight by eleven sheets of paper tacked to nearly every inch of real estate on the wall with hand-drawn pencil sketches and line art.

Walking around, Camila made sure to be extra careful around the sharp tools and electric equipment. She maneuvered her way to the back of the room, starting down a dark and ominous hallway that branched off into a series of smaller ones. Each vacant room had it's door open, all but a single one at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Camila reached out and pushed down on the handle, peeking inside to see a single light on in the corner, illuminating a small desk, a bookshelf, and about a hundred crumpled up sheets of chart paper scattered like giant snowballs on the floor. The girl standing at the side of the room had her back to the door, a blank tank top and ripped jeans highlighted the swirl of ink that covered the pale complexion of her left arm. In front of her was a fresh sheet of paper, tacked to the wall and covered in lines of dusty black charcoal. The sound of the door closing behind Camila had the girl stop her movements, put down the small piece of coal between her fingers and look down.

***

The moment the girl turned around, everything flooded back to Camila like a dam breaking mid-tsunami. She remembered the club, the boy Dinah had turned down from her and the trip through the night to the parlour. She remembered Lucy, Lauren, the cool sensation against her tailbone and the irresponsible departure of her beloved roommates. Camila suddenly remembered the forceful snuggling. The corndogs at three in the morning on the kitchen floor and the heart made of ketchup. Most importantly, she remembered the pen, trailing against her body as it's wielder gazed upon her with a gentle and kind curiosity.

"It's not permanent." Camila murmured softly, looking down at her arms and stomach. "It's not a tattoo..."

Wordlessly, the girl trailed her fingers through her hair with a small nod.

Unable to hold back, Camila stepped into the room and untied the flannel from around her waist, draping it over her shoulder. She approached the green eyed girl, stopping when they were only inches apart and reaching up to cup Lauren's cheeks in the palms of her hands and dip forward for a deep kiss. Lauren showed no sign of discontent, and instead pressed forward to lengthen the contact and wrap her arms around Camila's waist. Her lips were soft, the touch light and delicate with a subtle splash of spearmint.

"I didn't think you were going to come back." Lauren admitted once they had reluctantly disconnected. Up close, Camila found that every detail on the girl's face had been well worth waiting for. The blurry veil had been lifted, and left behind was a smooth pale complexion, glassy green eyes and a shy smile that held a very latin flare. "I figured you'd just forget about me."

Camila let her hand trail down the seemingly endless supply of tattoos on Lauren's right arm, catching her hand and holding it tight. "This entire day... I haven't been able to get you out of my head. I've spent the last twelve hours trying to figure out who you were, sleeping through a haze trying to remember what happened last night."

"And do you?"

"Just barely." Camila looked to the sheet of paper on the wall. "That drawing... is that me?"

"You're not the only one who's spent the day in a haze." Lauren nodded. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." The brunette closed the distance between them again, her heart fluttering when Lauren acted far ready for the kiss the second time around and lifted her clean off the ground, turning around and setting her down on the edge of the desk. Linking her arms around the girl's neck, Camila melted into Lauren's lips, tracing the curve of her mouth using her own. They both smiled on the disconnect, and the brunette couldn't help but let the emotion from the rather short-lived day, both good and bad spill out in the form of moisture beneath her eyes.

"Camila?" Lauren asked softly, cupping her face and tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "What's wrong?"

"I— I'm sorry, it's just been a weird day." The smaller girl shivered, parting her knees so Lauren could fit snug against the desk and eliminate any remaining distance their conversation may have needed to travel. "Trying to remember what happened through the night, trying to figure out why I had drawings all over my body, then my parents announced they're getting a divorce and now it's almost the middle of the night again and I'm halfway downtown trying to find a face I just can't stop thinking about."

"Your parents?" Lauren repeated softly. "Camila, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." The girl wiped her eyes. "It's okay now."

"If it helps any, I promise that the ink all over your chest and stomach is just black body pen, it'll come off with soap and warm water." She paused. "I would never tattoo anyone who came into my shop that drunk. Did you not try showering it off before you panicked?"

"I..." Camila looked down at her chest. "I kinda wanted to know whether it was going to come off or not before I showered. I know I smell terrible, I'm sorry."

"You smell fine." Strong arms, just as comforting and loving as in her dreams wrapped tight around Camila's body, encircling her in a flowery vanilla scent identical to the shirt draped over her shoulder. Breaking a genuine smile for the first time since she woke up, a tickling sensation followed the brush of Lauren's lips against her neck. "I'm here for you."

"You know, I dated a girl once." Camila whispered, drawing her lips near again.

"Yeah?" Lauren murmured back. "What was she like?"

"Well... she was an artist. She was lost, like a tourist in a foreign land. She had two parents who disapproved of her, who didn't understand that they made her, and she was theirs." Her body screamed for another kiss, but she held back with the desire to continue talking. "She's here for me."

"She sounds pretty great." There was an amused lilt in Lauren's voice. "You should hold on to her."

"I intend to." Their eyes met again, and a tender silence split the room that was far more comfortable than any buzzed state of inebriation and debatable decisions.

"Come with me." Lauren reached around and flicked off the desk light, swiping a set of keys up as she did so.

"Where are we going?"

"You found me." Her eyes glittered as Camila's adjusted to the newfound darkness. "Now let me lead you home, and we can finally have that conversation about getting a tattoo on your ass."

***

A/N: I don't know, here's a little one-off about love, art, losing your place to come home to and finding it in someone new. one shots are really useful when your creative progress is a little stalled on a bunch of endlessly long books but I'll get it done eventually. by the way never hesitate to bring up one shot suggestions and song prompts! thanks for reading everybody, tell me what you think  ♥️