Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach when she watched Y/n's figure turn around and walk away. She had just said aloud that she loved her, and instead of running up to her, cradling her in her arms, and telling her she loved her too; she said nothing. Her empty eyes were the same empty eyes that told Shawn that she was no longer in love with him. She recognized that from seeing herself in that state for so long. But was it true? Was she fooling herself? Were her feelings for her as disingenuous and vacuous as she made it appear to be?
At that point, Shawn had followed his ex-fiancée's gaze and seen Y/n walk back into the crowded arena. You could see the heartache in her face. She dashed all hopes when she told him that she loved this other woman, but he could see that his pain was nothing like hers. He came in hoping for the best, but he knew there would still be the possibility that she wouldn't change her mind about their relationship. Camila, on the other hand, was nowhere near expecting that her admission of love would be met with indifference followed by absence.
He should have walked. She made her choice. She loved Y/n.
But, by god, did he love her. He would walk a hundred thousand miles through broken glass to see her smile. Even if it meant he had to wait until she got over Y/n, he was willing to stick by her side. That was the difference.
"What does she have that I don't have?" Shawn whispered, gaining Camila's attention. He saw her eyes welling with tears, so he took his thumb and wiped at the corners. She was too beautiful to have it marred by tearstains from a woman who didn't deserve her. "She doesn't love you like I love you."
She looked up to meet his gentle brown eyes. He was genuinely, deeply in love with her and she left him because she didn't quite feel the same way. She could now feel what it was like on the other side of unrequited love. It was a tragic kind of pain; one that pulled the world you knew beneath your feet and replaced it with a cold, empty shell. "I'm so sorry."
Pulling him in closer, she embraced him and sobbed into his chest. They went back inside the arena for the awards.
Camila followed Shawn back to his hotel room. She spent the last half hour crying and apologizing and telling him that she should have tried harder to work out their relationship. Shawn assured her that he would be standing by her side no matter what. This was their second chance at it, and he was going to be as patient and understanding as he could be to guarantee that nothing like this would cause doubt and mistrust ever again.
They undressed and got ready for bed. Coming out of the bathroom, fresh faced and dressed in one of his t-shirts, Camila climbed into bed beside Shawn. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her lithe body.
"I'm so happy you decided to come spend the night with me."
She nodded, leaning up to kiss him. His hands found her hair and he pressed forward to deepen the kiss. She moaned as his tongue slipped between her lips and he wrestled for control. Dominating the kiss, Shawn laid her down the bed and allowed her to relax as he showed her how much he missed her. He trailed soft pecks down her neck as her hands ran down his flexed biceps.
Her eyes fluttered open and instead of the ceiling of the hotel room, she was staring up at the night sky. Stars littered the darkness and the moon cast a dim glow on her surroundings. Her view was suddenly obscured when Y/n's face appeared. Green eyes burned through her own, her jaw clenched, and her expression firm. And then her lips broke out into a playful smirk and smile lines formed at the corner of her eyes. She leaned down to kiss her.
But it didn't feel like Y/n. The lips were different and the feeling of butterflies in her stomach was missing. She sat up and Shawn stopped.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," she apologized, running her fingers through her hair. She pulled her knees against her chest. "After all that's happened tonight, I just want to sleep."
Shawn nodded, "Yeah, no problem, I understand," he arranged the pillows on the bed and tucked her in. "Get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow."
He kissed her on the forehead and turned around to switch off the lamp. Camila closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take its course.
Y/n returned to Normani's house. She walked out of the arena and ignored all the calls and looks of concern; she just needed to get away. She could've sworn that room was caving in on her. She raided the bar and pulled out an old bottle of single-malt scotch. Pouring herself glass after glass, she was intoxicated by the time Normani and Dinah arrived home.
The couple walked into the room, littered with broken, empty bottles, and found Y/n collapsed on the couch. She took the cigarette between her fingers and brought it up for a puff, but not before Normani yanked it away. It had been years since Y/n's last cigarette – not since she was in that dark chapter in her high school days.
"Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?"
"Where's Camila?"
Y/n shrugged, and took a swig straight from the bottle. "Probably fucking Mendes."
Dinah slapped her hard across the cheek. It was an instinctive reaction. She promised that she would never allow Y/n to hurt Camila, and judging from the way she appeared tonight, it wouldn't be farfetched to assume she had hurt her. Y/n winced in pain before she stood up and met her cold stare. Normani pushed the two apart. She pushed her best friend against the wall.
"Where's Camila?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Y/n struggled to get out of Normani's grasp. She was too inebriated to find the strength to push her away. "I left the party. Last I saw her, she was talking with Shawn."
"So she's with Mendes?"
"No, she's with Perez." Y/n let out a loud laugh, before leaning her head back against the wall. She exhaled deeply when Normani let go of her shirt and stepped back.
"Why was she with Shawn?"
"They were talking about love and shit," Y/n rolled her eyes, "He was trying to convince her what a sociopathic asshole I am and he was all like, 'what does she have that I don't?' – the fucking bastard..." she trailed off.
"What did she say?" Dinah asked.
Y/n laughed, "She told him that she loves me." She fell back on the couch and ceased her fit of laughter. She looked up to see the baffled expressions on Normani and Dinah's faces. "She loves me? She chose me – the cheater and the prick – over Shawn fucking Mendes. You have to admit; that's fucking hilarious."
"What is wrong with you?" Dinah cried in disbelief, "So you didn't say it back? You didn't tell her you love her too?"
Y/n looked at her questioningly. "I don't love. Don't you get it, Dinah? I did her a favor. I left because she was feeling things for me that I could never return, while Shawn was out there pouring his heart out to her. I gave her to Shawn! I wasn't being selfish." Y/n sighed and rubbed her face in her hands.
"No," Dinah shook her head, looking at her with disgust and contempt, "you were being selfish. You did what you did to because you're too afraid to admit that you love her. You're too afraid to look weak, to get hurt..."
"She's right," Normani chimed in, "You've been running from your emotions ever since your divorce. Camila is the first real relationship that you could have had and you blew it."
"It doesn't matter. I don't matter." Y/n knew what they were trying to say, but she knew she made the right decision. Shawn was right about her and he was the only one speaking based on facts and Y/n's proven track record of depravity. Camila deserved more than Y/n; she knew that the first night at Normani's, but along the way she had opened herself to her and lost sight of it. "All that matters is Camila, and I'm not the one who can make her happy."
"I don't buy that for one second." Dinah stated.
Y/n scoffed, "Isn't this what you wanted in the first place? To have Camila back with Shawn and to have me stay as far away as possible?"
"That was before I saw the two of you together."
"Please, Dinah," Y/n said, "this is pathetic." She stood up and began to leave the room. They would never understand. Normani and Dinah had a perfect, uncomplicated life because they were both two stable people on their own. Camila could have that too with Shawn, but Y/n was too fucked up emotionally to be the missing piece of her puzzle.
Despite the hangover, she packed her bags that morning and got out of there as quick as she could. She didn't want to see either Normani or Dinah before she left. She was grateful to the couple for letting her stay, but she was embarrassed by her actions the previous night. Y/n cleaned up the bar room and took all the bottles on the driveway for recycling. It was the least she could do. She wasn't a complete asshole, no matter what they all thought of her.
As she drove to the airport, she tried to think back to what Dinah said – about her being too afraid to admit that she loved Camila. It was like she was so sure of it. It was like people had signs on their head or some sort of meter that would explicitly state how you felt about a person. She almost wished life could be that simple, but it wasn't. She, honestly, didn't know if what she felt for Camila was love.
She hopped out of the car and headed inside. It was an ungodly hour of the morning, and luckily there wasn't a long line to check-in for her flight. She went through the sequence and requirements of domestic travel. Before she knew it, she was at her gate and seated at a plastic chair too small for her stature, waiting for boarding.
"Hey, Y/n."
Y/n looked up to see a familiar face. Hailee Steinfield. Camila and Dinah's opening act.
"Hi, Hailee." She cleared her duffel bag from the chair beside her so she could take the spot. She sat down and fluffed her hair that fell down to her back. She shifted in her seat and opened her mouth, but decided against it. Y/n cast a sideways glance and saw that she looked like she had a lot on her mind. They simmered for a while in the awkward tension before she finally spoke.
"I don't know if you know what happened last night," she began to ramble, "but I'm sorry for the things I said. I'm sorry for calling you a whore."
Y/n chuckled, "You called me a whore?"
"Shit." She muttered, "I thought you had heard. It's just so many people were there when it happened that I thought word would've gotten round... So, I guess you didn't hear Dinah call me out for seducing Shawn Mendes. But whatever," she sighed,
"I deserved it."
"Dinah did that?" Y/n smiled and shook her head; she could just imagine the kind of drama that caused during the show. "So what made you decide to apologize?"
Hailee shrugged, "I realized how shitty it felt to be judged as the slut after talking shit about you and Camila. Honestly, I was jealous of her. It sucks when a guy tells you that sex was a mistake, and then he immediately tries to get back with the woman who broke up with him."
"I've been on the receiving end of the 'sex was a mistake' line too many times. You just have to learn not to be affected. You already got what you wanted, so their guilt or regret or whatever it is – it means shit."
"Yeah, I guess so, but you don't really have to worry about that anymore. You've got Camila now."
Y/n's gaze fell to the ground. She never imagined she would get into this conversation with Hailee, of all people, but here she was, surprised by life yet again. "It's over," she muttered with conclusiveness, "It didn't work out for obvious reasons. I'm too self-absorbed to be in a relationship."
"I feel you," Hailee chuckled, "We're a lot alike, I think." She smiled at her direction.
"What?" She asked, grinning, "You're an entitled asshole too? I heard that one last night."
"Ouch," she grimaced. People could be so callous. Sure, personalities like her and Y/n often came across arrogant and uncaring, but the way they were judged and labeled was just as upsetting. "Nah, I just got called a slut. Can't complain though," she continued, "sluts love sex and there's truth to that."
Y/n had always come across as this distant girl, who you could only speak when spoken to, so it was a little strange and new for her to be flirting with her. She was always attracted to her whenever she would go see the pop duo with Normani, but Y/n seemed to have a pecking order of women who could be in her company. Instead of waiting around, she decided to set her sights on other people. For Hailee, seeing this side of her reignited that fascination.
Camila spent most of her sleepless night staring at the ceiling. It was essentially white paint on some concrete, but somehow her mind kept going back to Y/n's face against the night sky.
Just the night before the fundraiser, they were out on Normani's patio, roasting marshmallows. They resigned to the pool house and made love – or so she thought. It was probably just another night of meaningless sex for Y/n. Then again, she kissed her lips again and again, whispering in between that she wouldn't mind doing this with her all the time.
She held her in her arms that night and told her all these stories about April and how much she loved her. She knew there was no bond like that between a parent and their child; but if the soccer player was capable of all this affection and adoration for her daughter, then her heart must be capable of falling in love.
They couldn't sleep. They were worn out, but they just wanted to stay up and tell stories. Suddenly, Y/n had the idea to go outside to the dock. Camila remembered following her down the wooden planks. The reflection of the moon cast down the ripples of water, and it was her only guiding light to get to her. She sat down and she settled between her legs. Wrapping an arm around her, Y/n pointed to some constellation and told her all about the mythology around it. It was interesting, but, to be honest, she was only half-listening. Instead, she was focused on listening to her beating heart.
"Camila, are you ready?"
Shawn's question snapped her out of her reverie. Once again, she was beneath that white ceiling, enclosed in the four walls of his hotel room. He had his one carry-on packed and zipped. They were going to pick up her things at Normani's and then head down to the airport, so they could catch their flight her concert in Chicago.
She nodded, rising from the bed and walking towards the door. She stopped when she saw a velvet box by the table next to the door. He followed her line of vision and picked up the box.
"I know I said I'd wait until you were ready, but on the chance that our relationship could go back to normal after what I said last night, I had the ring with me." Shawn fumbled with the box in his palm. He opened it, revealing the delicate engagement ring that he had carefully and expertly chosen.
Her eyes fell on the ring as she recalled herself wearing it. It was a beautiful reminder of their relationship – the stability, the security, the regularity. It pained her to do what she did next. She closed the box and pushed it back to him.
"It's ok. I know you need time. I'll wait."
"Don't," she replied meekly, "please don't wait for me, because I can't lie and pretend to myself that I still love you. I did that for so long and I was just getting over it and finally moving on, when last night... last night, I suddenly had to choose between what we had and being alone and miserable. I was too scared to be alone so I chose you."
"You chose me by default," he said; his voice completely laced with the same searing ache that burned through his chest.
"It isn't fair for me to choose you and put you through this pain again. I'm a mess, Shawn, and I don't want you putting your life on pause to help me piece myself back together."
"So that's it. We're done."
Camila hung her head low and began to slowly nod. She struggled to meet his tearful eyes, but she knew she had to be firm or else Shawn would continue to hold onto false hope. He clenched his jaw and placed the velvet box in his jacket pocket. He couldn't believe this was happening to him all over again. He knew he was taking a risk. He knew he could possibly relive the agony of hearing her tell him that she didn't love him anymore. He would take a thousand bumps and a string of injuries just to hear otherwise, but he knew no matter what he did, you couldn't force someone to love you.
You can't choose who you love.
"Are you going back to her?"
She didn't know what to say.
"If you love her, like you really say you do, you would find her and tell her yourself. If she says it back then congratulations, Camila," he said sarcastically, "but if she doesn't, which is the likely outcome, then you'll know how it feels to be the one standing here, giving my heart to you, and have you rip it to shreds."
Camila choked back the tears. She could understand he was angry and hurt, but he didn't have to trample on the little confidence she had left. "Good bye, Shawn," she mumbled before she walked out of his room. She wished they could part in better terms, but she accepted that they would be unable to mend their relationship for a while. Separation will help him heal, and she truly wished that some woman would be lucky enough to be in the receiving end of his kindness and adoration.
Walking out of the elevator and through the lobby, she stepped outside and hailed a taxi. The cab driver tipped his hat as she slid into the backseat. "Where are we going, miss?" he asked.
"I... I don't know."