Bound To You (camren au)

and we've only just begun

even if you never pay attention to the music i link above in the chaps you might wanna listen to this one..... just this once ;)

-

"So how are things going?"

"What do you mean?"

Camila sighs as Ariana slinks up behind her, draping her arms across her shoulders. "I mean with you and the girlfriend," she says. "Lauren tells me you guys are all loved up." She has a sly look on her face as she moves to lean against Camila's vanity, reaching out to tweak her chin. "Is she better than me?"

"What?"

Ariana arches an eyebrow. "In bed."

"Ew!" Camila whacks her in the arm, biting back laughter at Ariana's infuriating smugness. "God, get out of here, you freak. I hate you."

"Grande!" Ariana perks up at the sound of her last name, and suddenly Liz is there, tapping her foot impatiently. "You said you'd go grab coffee with me before performance."

"Fuckin' needy," says Ariana, so rapid-fire bitchy. "Go by yourself."

"Grande."

"Fine. Give me a sec, I'll be out there."

Liz gives Ariana a little salute, and then Ariana's turning back to Camila, reaching forward to mindlessly fix Camila's hair for her. "So-"

"Oh my god," says Camila.

Ariana narrows her eyes at her. "Oh my god what?"

"Oh my god, you like Liz." Camila's hands shoot up to her mouth, trying to cover her laughter while Ariana stares at her, slack-jawed. "Oh my god! You have a crush! What the hell?"

"No I don't!" If Ariana was capable of blushing, Camila thinks that's probably what she'd be doing right now. "What is wrong with you? I don't- I don't-"

But she's already lost it. Seeing her be anything less than perfectly composed is a dead giveaway. Camila is clapping, unable to stop grinning at Ariana.

"It was the instant bitchiness!" she crows. "You'd never be that mean to a girl immediately unless you really liked her. And it took her less than ten seconds to get you to stop being bitchy and agree with her. And your face! Oh my god."

"You're really fucking irritating, you know that?" snaps Ariana, and then shoots a furtive glance down the spiraling staircase. "I have to go. We can talk about this later."

"Oh, we sure are." Camila can't stop smiling. "I can't believe you actually have feelings. You're so adorable."

"Shut up," Ariana says aggressively, but she still finds it in her to drop a quick kiss on top of Camila's head before making her way down the staircase, following after Liz.

"Hey, what was that about?" Lauren comes up behind her moments later, makeup half-done, and settles her stool right in Camila's mirror.

"Personal space," Camila tells her.

Lauren grins and moves even closer, if that's possible. "It's crazy that you and Ariana still talk," she teases. "I would've thought Hailee would've shut that shit down by now."

"Hailee's not the jealous type," Camila says simply. It's most likely because she knows Camila would never find anyone better than her - never find anyone more perfect. What did she have to be insecure about in the relationship, truly? If anything Camila should've been the jealous one - Hailee was beautiful, she worked with models all day, she could basically have anyone she wanted. But Camila wasn't the jealous type, either, not really.

Well. Except for... well. She did lose her mind a little bit when it came to- well, you know. But she's choosing to sweep that aside for now. God, that wasn't even a relationship, that didn't count. That was... a serious lapse in judgment. A serious and brief lapse in judgment, maybe.

Lauren is staring at her with this certain, mischievous look in her eye like the wheels in her head are turning. "Really."

"Yes, really. What's with the look?"

"Nothing!" Lauren chirps, squeezing Camila's knee, then goes back to humming a song that Camila doesn't recognize. "So, I don't know if you heard, babydoll, but my birthday's coming up soon."

"The twenty-seventh, right?"

"Yes!" Lauren looks very pleased. "You remembered!"

"Of course." Lauren had told her about it early in their friendship, and Camila had written it down so she didn't forget - she'd mentioned it casually, probably in the midst of some rant about her zodiac sign or something equally dumb and charming.

"I don't know if you knew this," Lauren continues, "but Ariana's birthday is on the twenty-sixth?"

"Damn. So you're both Cancers?"

"Yeah."

"So then why are you an emotional mess and she's not?"

Lauren gasps, offended, and kicks Camila so accidentally hard she almost falls off her stool and has to grab onto Lauren to stay put. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself," Lauren grumbles, pouting, but when she sees Camila laughing she can't help but laugh along, so unable to be serious. "And I don't think Ari's unemotional. I just think she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve like I do. She's more..." Lauren waves her hand. "You know. Guarded."

Camila smiles to herself. "I can see that." Underneath her bitchy front Ariana does actually have the capability to be a sweetheart. And she was... I mean, Camila slept with her. She wouldn't do that if she didn't trust her to some extent.

"So we're having this joint birthday party," Lauren explains. "We do it every year. After the club clears out, all of us just get drunk and perform whatever we want on stage and open presents and shit. And then we go to this twenty-four-hour diner and eat junk food and it's so fun."

"Oh, wow," Camila says dreamily. She's never had big birthday parties because that's just not her shit (obviously) but she likes going to birthday parties, and she especially likes parties with the House of Hernandez girls, because they really are a big family and everything when she's with them is so fun. "That sounds awesome."

"It is, it's so awesome." Lauren is beaming at her, her gaze scouring Camila's face in that always-observant way of hers, the kind that always makes Camila feel flattered, or something like that - like Lauren's looking at her like she never wants to look at anyone else. She has that way about her; she can make you feel like the only person in the room without even trying. It's, like, damn near irresistible. "Can I tell you something?"

Camila glances over at her, and Lauren's smile is so infectious. "Hm?"

"I'm really glad you started working here," says Lauren in this uncharacteristically quiet voice, her eyes large and so sincere, and Camila softens. "I mean- I'm just really glad we met. You're my best friend."

"Aw, Lolo," Camila coos, because when Lauren's like this she could swear she's never adored anyone more. She hooks one of her legs up into Lauren's lap, and Lauren grabs her knee, the corners of her lips tilted upwards. "You're so cute. I fucking love you."

"Love you too." Lauren's inching towards a baby voice, and Camila hides her face in Lauren's shoulder as she giggles. "What? What? Why are you laughing at me?" Lauren's combing her hands through Camila's hair, her blunt nails bumping against Camila's scalp, and Camila sighs in contentment.

"I'm going to get you the best birthday present ever," she decides.

"Camz." She can practically feel Lauren's smile against her hair. "Better be expensive or I'm throwing that shit in the trash."

Camila shoves a cackling Lauren off of her and then grabs her waist so she doesn't fall, steadying a hand on either hip. "Shut it. I could give you anything and you'd still probably cry over how thoughtful I am."

"Like you cried over my Mona Lisa napkin?"

"Please. I threw that away like two seconds you gave it to me."

"But you still kept the photo!" Lauren hops up to gleefully point at the picture of herself taped up to Camila's vanity, holding the aforementioned napkin and smiling like an idiot, somehow still looking like a movie star even in the fuzziness of the Polaroid camera.

"Yeah, 'cause it had you in it," Camila tells her, just to be cheesy. "I'd never get rid of a photo with your face."

Lauren looks at her with huge eyes, her mouth twitching to hide her smile. "Do not talk to me like that, Camila," she warns. "Or else I'm going to fall in love with you. And your girlfriend will not be very happy."

Camila snickers and tries in vain to wave her away from the mirror. "Shut up," she says, "your standards are literally on the floor. Underground. How can you be so pretty and have zero standards?"

Lauren sticks her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "You think I'm pretty?"

"No. I was just trying to boost your self-esteem."

Lauren hacks out a laugh that's somewhere between hysteria and a wheeze, lifting her hand to her chest in faux-hurt surprise, and then she doubles over, kicking her feet at Camila. "You're so fucking rude!" she squeals. "Take it back! Tell me I'm pretty!"

"You're such a god damn egomanic, Lauren. You know you're gorgeous. Every man you've ever met has offered to leave his wife for you." She's only, like, slightly exaggerating. Lauren really has this hold over men somehow. It's as impressive as it is just a little horrifying.

"But I don't care about them," says Lauren, batting her eyelashes coyly. "I care about you."

"Whore."

"Duh."

Camila pinches Lauren's hip and tugs her back into the stool so they can finish doing their makeup together. Camila begins her contour, highlight, all of that, but she can still see Lauren shooting pointed glances at her in her peripheral vision, that playful look on her face, always ready to push Camila's buttons because both of them love it too much. "Camz-"

"You're one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen." Camila turns to look over at her.

Lauren's expression is so worth it. Her eyebrows tip up, her lips have the faintest hint of a smile on them, a little stunned by Camila's admission; everything in her just gets soft and sated, and Camila is amazed for the millionth time how expressive Lauren is, every single emotion cycling through her features. She'd be a shit poker player, but it makes her an eternally charming person to be around.

Camila blinks at her, feigning innocence. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Lauren's mouth drops open, but she very quickly gets that wicked gleam in her eye - two can play at that game. "No, I got it. I'm the prettiest girl you've ever seen."

"Um, I definitely said one of."

"You sure?"

"Selective hearing much?"

"Oh, I heard what you said. But I know what you meant."

"Can you guys shut the fuck up?"

Both of them whirl around to see Normani sitting on her stool, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at them. "I'm about to tear out my fucking hair. You guys are so annoying. And this is coming from someone who actually likes you two."

"Yeah," Zendaya calls in agreement, leaning against her vanity. "I can't tell if you guys love each other or hate each other. It's literally all compliments and then, like, horrific insults. And then compliments again. I cannot keep up."

Lauren frowns and grabs Camila's hand for comfort, their fingers slotting together instantly. "They all hate us," she says sadly.

"Bitch, I hate us," says Camila, and Lauren goes from whining to choking out a laugh in milliseconds.

Maybe it doesn't matter that they're the most annoying people in the world. If you know you know. When you meet someone like that, someone who gets you so completely - your humor, your passions, everything - then it doesn't really matter how obnoxious other people say you are. When you find someone who understands you like that it's, like, the only thing in the world that matters, almost.

So Lauren gives Camila her other AirPod and the two of them sit there, listening to deafeningly loud All Time Low and still managing to hold a conversation, and they flip Normani off at the same time without planning it which only makes them laugh harder because they're so creepily in sync.

"I hate everyone else in the world but you," Lauren tells Camila. She's quoting some random TV show that she and Camila only half-paid attention to, nose crinkled as she smiles, dutifully watching for Camila's reaction.

"Bull fucking shit," Camila replies. "Haven't you hooked up with seventy-five percent of the men above forty in Los Angeles?"

"I hate men."

"Women above thirty?" Lauren has a thing for people that are markedly older than her. No offense, but Freud would probably have a field day with her.

"Well. Damn. You got me there."

"Cabello!"

All of a sudden Ariana is standing at the top of the staircase, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a gigantic iced coffee. Damn. They've really been bickering so long that Ariana and Liz had time to go get coffee and come back? How long has it been?

"What?" Lauren looks around with genuine confusion. "Who?"

"It's my last name, dumb bitch." It's so weird how they can know so much about each other but still somehow not know the most basic of things. Wonders of their friendship, Camila guesses.

"Oh my god." Lauren's expression is mildly scandalized. "Quick, tell me your full name so I'm never embarrassed like that again. Middle name?"

"Camila is my middle name. My first name is Karla."

"Who are you?" Lauren cackles, but stops to think. "Wait. Carla's kind of sexy. Like Carla from Elite, she's so sexy."

"Karla with a K, not a C."

"Imagine if it was Carla with a C, though," Lauren muses. "Then your name would be all Cs. That would be dope. CC... C... C."

"I think you got too many Cs there."

"Three?"

"You said four."

"Or Carla like Carla Gugino," Lauren continues. "She's sexy too. Have you seen Haunting of Hill House?"

"Is she sexy in that?" Camila hasn't seen it. "I thought she was a demon. And Carla Gugino is with a C, too."

"Damn."

Lauren looks sincerely disheartened by this, her posture slumping. Camila snickers at how dramatic she is. "Lo, I have to go before Ariana murders me with her sneaky hands. What's your middle name?"

"Michelle. Hey, how did Ariana know your last name before me?"

"She does this weird thing where she likes to moan last names during sex instead of first names. Makes it less intimate." She's fucking with Lauren, obviously, and the look on Lauren's face along with the extremely loud gasp is so worth it. "Bye!"

"You're fucking disgusting!" Lauren yells after her.

"Love you too!" Camila stumbles when Ariana yanks her away from the staircase instead of towards it. "Wait, where are we going?"

"The roof, genius."

"We have a roof?"

-

"I can't believe I've never been up here before." Camila marvels at the Los Angeles view. It's not even like it's particularly beautiful or anything - just the usual sights of early evening in the city - but everything looks a little smaller, a little magical. Like being on a plane. Camila truly has it in her to romanticize anything and everything. "I feel like we're in High School Musical."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised." Ariana has fished a pack of cigarettes out of her bra and now has one between her teeth, her lighter sparking in front of it. "Lauren's scared of heights. She never comes up here."

"She is?" Camila smiles to herself as she leans against the cement barriers surrounding the roof, looking out over the city. Somehow it's kind of cute, how someone like Lauren can have such a pedestrian fear. Like, she knows all about Lauren's occasional paranoia and her aversion to real-life violence and how every time they watched season 1 of Glee together Lauren always skipped episode 10 - that sort of thing, all the intricacies. But being scared of heights?

Ariana must read her reaction because she snorts, taking a drag from her cigarette. "You're kind of pathetic."

Camila ignores her and also completely forgets what they're supposed to be up there talking about. "Do you really think me and Lauren are that annoying?"

"Yes," Ariana deadpans.

Camila cuts her eyes across at the brunette. "Honesty hour, please."

Ariana's eyebrows lift at the demand, but her face gets a little more gentle, her perfect ice-queen composure melting, just a tiny bit. "No," she says, turning her angular features out towards the skyline. "You guys aren't that annoying. You can both be loud but you'd be like that apart, too. You guys just connect really naturally. I don't think it's as obnoxious as everyone makes it out to be."

Camila folds her lips together to hide her grin. "Aw, Ari, that's really sweet."

"I've never seen two people with more onstage chemistry," Ariana remarks, "that's for sure. The way you two look at each other is insane."

"Uhh," Camila says. "I think we've gotten a little bit off topic."

Ariana whirls to face her. "Am I wrong?" She manages to make smoking look really cool instead of like something that's definitely going to damage her lungs forever.

Camila struggles to find her words. "I- well- no, but that's just performance adrenaline and shit. And us being best friends. It doesn't mean anything. I thought we were supposed to be talking about you and Liz?"

Ariana rolls her eyes. "There is no me and Liz," she says, making air quotes with her fingers. "Haven't you heard that she has a boyfriend?"

"But you like her," Camila says, a no-brainer. "Don't you always get what you want?"

"I try not to make it a habit of ruining other people's relationships," Ariana tells her. "Being a homewrecker is not as fun as Lauren makes it out to be."

"Lauren's not a homewrecker," Camila shoots back automatically - she can do nothing but defend Lauren, really. It's a reflex. A good reflex to have, truly. But Ariana's just trying to provoke her by being a bitch. "Stop making this about Lauren. Has Liz had that same boyfriend as long as you've known her? I thought they broke up a lot."

Ariana chews on her bottom lip, propping her elbows up against the cement railing. She manages to look regal like this, her hair slicked up into a high ponytail, her winged eyeliner always sharp, her slender shoulders canting upwards. "You know what's funny?" she asks, and she sounds almost wistful, a million miles away. "I always thought she and I would happen. We started working here at the same time - got hired in the same round of auditions - and we've hooked up before. Not had sex or anything, just... you know, makeout sessions in the bathrooms, that sort of thing. And it was just supposed to be fun. But then she got back together with her boyfriend and that sort of stuff stopped happening so much. So now it's just, well..." She spreads her arms wide, the burning, yellow-orange glow of her cigarette illuminating the tattoos on her fingers and hands. "Maybe we could have been something but now we'll never know."

"But you're still stuck with all these feelings that you can't do anything about," surmises Camila.

Ariana glances over at her, and for a second, she looks much younger, her gaze even more doe-eyed than normal, framed by long lashes. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I guess I am."

They're both silent for a little while, but the air still buzzes with the sounds of honking horns and music from cars, the bustle from the city, somehow still smooth and casual in the typical LA style. Camila likes it like this, an ever-present background noise. It's one of her favorite things about this place.

"Mila." Ariana is the first to break the lull. "You know I care about you, right? And not just because we were, like-" Her voice gets caught in a chuckle. "Very, very brief friends with benefits. But because you're just my friend."

"Without benefits."

"Shut up." Ariana ducks her head, smiling, stubbing her cigarette out into the railing, and Camila goes to pull her in for a hug. They're quite similar in stature and so Ariana can only just barely hook her chin over Camila's shoulder, and she smells like this strange mix of smoke and lavender that should be nothing less than disgusting but is instead something like what Camila would imagine to be a perfume an silent movie star would wear. Ariana's so effortlessly glamorous. Camila should hate her, probably. She's such a perfect bitch.

"You're so cheesy when you want to be," Camila tells her. "You really are a Cancer."

"Excuse me?"

"Your zodiac sign."

"Oh. Right."

-

Camila lectures Ariana about not smoking before they leave the roof. "It'll ruin your voice," she says.

Ariana throws her a dirty look. "Like I ever get to use it anyway." She really does have the most beautiful voice - almost unearthly in how gorgeous it is. Camila will never understand why she isn't the star, but that's something that has to do with Ally and Lucy and the way the club is run, and so she hasn't pushed it. But she should.

She tables the idea in favor of this new issue between Ariana and Liz. "Does Lauren know?"

"Of course Lauren knows," Ariana says, because the two of them are always closer than Camila realizes, and also gives her the ideal person to create a scheme with. "Are you two gonna make this weird?"

"It's already weird!" Camila says cheerfully.

When they get back inside, Lauren's already in full getup, looking every bit the burlesque star in an elaborately rhinestoned costume that's identical to the ones most of the girls are wearing - their second number, something slow and sexy that Camila isn't in but has seen like a million and a half times.

"Oh, wow. I was positive she was going to take you to the roof to murder your ass."

"Shut your mouth," says Camila.

She relays the Ariana-Liz issue to Lauren, but of course she already knows. "We're scheming, right?"

"Totally." Lauren's eyes dance when she's in one of these moods - planning something, usually never something good. "I'm thinking lock them in a room and make them confess their feelings for each other."

"Or we take a trip and accidentally assign them a hotel room with only one bed."

Lauren is trying to contain a smirk. "Your One Direction stan is coming out." She knows instantly what Camila's talking about, of course. Happens when they have all the same interests.

"Bitch, it never left."

The two of them probably would make a very long list of all their favorite and increasingly cliché tropes that they want to enlist for their Ariana-Liz scheme, but Camila has to be onstage in half a minute. Oh, well. Just another issue they're going to have to table.

-

"Psst. Mila!"

"What?" Camila looks up in confusion from where she's scooping her makeup in her bag. Lucy's face is peeking out at her from the slight gap between the door and the doorframe of Ally's office.

"Come here!"

"Why are you being so creepy?" asks Camila, but she stands, brushing her sticky, hairspray-ridden hair behind her ears. Lucy opens the door and ushers her into the office.

"Uhh. Was there a team meeting I missed a memo for?" The entire office is crammed with all the House of Hernandez girls. Immediately, Camila makes her way over to that velvet-y chaise lounge and sprawls herself over Normani and Dinah, Normani's arm immediately falling over her lap. Camila snuggles up to Normani's side and gets comfortable. "What's happening?"

"Alright, we're all here?" Lucy sits atop Ally's desk, crossing one long, enviably slim leg over the other. "That was a question."

"Yes," Liz groans loud. She's leaning against the wall, her arms folded over her chest, her long, shiny hair almost perfectly arranged around her shoulders although she's been performing for hours. "Can we hurry it up?"

She is really, really beautiful - highlighted hair and blue-green eyes, intensely pretty. Camila never got as close to her as she as the other girls, maybe. Liz is older, although she doesn't know by how much, and endlessly intimidating. She's also the same brand of dry, sarcastically (and hilariously) bitchy as Ariana, but less, definitely less so. More funny than mean. Except Camila hadn't slept with Liz her first day working at House of Hernandez so she didn't feel as attached to her as she did Ariana. Logic, she guesses.

Lucy raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry," says Liz, flashing her winning smile and luminous eyes. Camila gets why Ariana likes her so much. She's damn gorgeous and damn funny, quick-witted, talented. What more could you want from a girl?

She also has a longterm douchebag boyfriend. Ah, sapphics. Always with the drama.

"So, as we all know," Lucy says, "Lauren and Ariana's party is this weekend. Any suggestions for gifts?"

This is a House of Hernandez tradition. They'd done it for Normani at the end of May, and Lucy herself sometime in January, and they would've done it for Dinah last week if it hadn't apparently also been a tradition for Dinah to go on a vacation with her exceedingly large extended family every year. They'd gone to, like, Cabo or something. Camila had been very jealous.

Not that she wanted to celebrate her own birthday - no. Some things she had to deal with alone. But Cabo (or something)? With family? God damn.

"You guys are so cute," Camila murmurs, grabbing Dinah's hand next to her. "You're such a family."

"And you're such a sentimental bitch," Dinah tells her, smacking a kiss on her cheek.

"A sentimental bitch who's part of this family," adds Normani, and Camila can't help but smile, because - fuck, that's just so sweet. And Camila hasn't had people she can call family in a long time. And she never imagined she'd find it here, in a club filled with rowdy, overly affectionate girls who loved her just as much as she loved them, if not more.

It would be a year in the fall. A year since she'd started working at House of Hernandez. Jesus. It seems unbelievable to be anywhere else but here, really.

It simultaneously seems like she just started working here last week and like she's been here for years. Well, that's what happens when you have a job you really love, she supposes. All work and all play. The best friends she's ever had. Family, right. The most family.

She wouldn't trade it for the world. She couldn't imagine ever giving it up.

-

"Hey, lover." Camila passes Hailee in the kitchen with a quick kiss to her jaw. "I have a question."

They'd been living together for almost a month, just calmly coexisting in each other's space, more quiet than chatty, and Camila loved Hailee's apartment. Clean and somehow still artsy, like it was ripped straight from one of the many interior design accounts Camila follows on Twitter. And Hailee keeps it cleaner than clean, thank god. The one thing they had in common - they were both chronic neat freaks.

Oh, and Hailee had a really awesome bed.

"What's your question?" Hailee is sitting at the kitchen counter, glancing back and forth from her laptop to her sketchbook. She's interning for some huge fashion designer this summer, and she's the kind of person who lets work swallow her whole. Camila's cooking breakfast: a whole spread, because she's in a good mood, and she has headphones in her ears because Hailee hates when she plays her music out loud (it disturbs her flow, she'd complained).

"We're having a birthday party at House of H tomorrow," Camila says. "Wanna be my date?"

"Birthday party?" Hailee looks up from her sketchbook. "Yeah, sure. Who's?"

"It's a double birthday party for Lauren and Ariana. Ariana's birthday is today, Lauren's is tomorrow." Camila had woken up to about a hundred notifications in the House of H group chat of all the girls wishing Ariana a happy birthday multiple, multiple times, along with tons of pictures of Ariana that were supposed to be embarrassing but of course she looked flawless in each and every one.

"Lauren and Ariana," Hailee repeats. "Which one's-"

"Ariana's the one I used to hook up with," Camila says without thinking, and then she whirls around, her cheeks flushing. "Er. Sorry. Brunette with the ponytail. Kinda bitchy."

Hailee chuckles. "Right. You know, I don't think she likes me very much."

"No, that's just how she is. She's just catty without reason. It's not personal." Camila wants to tell Hailee about Ariana and Liz and their drama, but Hailee has already returned to her work. Oh, well. Camila can find another way to entertain herself.

"Hey," Hailee calls from the kitchen only after Camila has already finished up making their too-large breakfast and has now immersed herself in a very intriguing conversation with Lauren over text about a ship name for Ariana and Liz (they still hadn't managed to settle on one that wasn't horrible). "I don't need to bring a gift, do I?"

"Nope," Camila calls back. "We're doing a group thing." Plus, of course, her own gift for Lauren. Sorry, Ariana. But she was getting enough with the expensive-as-fuck group gift and probably the shit she'd get from Liz. Camila needed to get something all for Lauren. Well, make something, more like. Hey, she was creative.

"How nice should I dress?"

"Nice enough for everyone to be jealous you're my date!"

She's kidding. Hailee's the kind of flawless that makes everyone want to be her or be with her, no matter what she's wearing - or not wearing. Perks of having the prettiest girlfriend around.

Camila wonders if Hailee ever feels the same about her. Probably not as much. Camila's pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, approachable and only a little remarkable. At least that's how it was when she was in high school. She's prettier now. Or more confident, at least. Hotter. Something. She loves herself now. That probably makes some sort of a difference.

"Hails!" She feels like being bratty. It's like the still-alive spirit of Lauren possesses her. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

There's a pause. "What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Camila smooths a hand over the  cool leather of the couch. She wishes there were throw blankets here to wrap herself in. Hailee thinks they're too cluttered.

Hailee appears in the arch of the living room, her hair tossed up in bun, one of her sketching pencils tucked over her left ear. She looks amused as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Of course. Why, did something happen?"

Camila hops up to put her elbows over the back of the couch so she can look at Hailee with wide eyes. "No," she says. "I just want validation."

Like she wanted, this pulls a laugh from her girlfriend. Hailee comes over to take Camila's face in her hands and kiss her lips softly. "Oh, crazy girl," she says fondly in a way that makes Camila feel very small - not in a bad way, exactly, just small.

She can't pinpoint when that happened. She was the one who pursued Hailee, wasn't she? The one who flirted, who comforted her when she cried, who asked her out, who made her blush. Now that they're all moved in, and in love, and entwined... well, it's nothing. It's just like Hailee's sort of the one protecting Camila now. The one keeping her safe.

It makes sense, because she's older and prettier and more established, and all that. Camila gets that. She just doesn't know when it happened, that's all.

-

"I have a surprise for you."

Lauren's voice is high and excited over the phone. "Is the surprise that you're very, very late to rehearsal?" Camila says back. "Because we already know that. Where are you?"

"Is that Camila?" A different voice. "Give it here." Oh, bossy. Bitchy.

Ariana. Obviously. She's not here either and they're way into rehearsal time.

"Hi, Mila," comes blaring through the phone. "We're almost there. Lucy let us off rehearsal as a birthday gift so Lauren and I could do something special."

"It's the surprise!" Lauren says enthusiastically in the background.

"It's not a surprise for you," Ariana tells Camila. "We just did something. For us. You might be surprised or you might not give a fuck. I don't care either way."

"Stop being a cunt," Camila hears Lauren groan, and then a scuffle and Lauren's bright cheeriness is back in her ear again. "Hi, Camz. We're like thirty seconds away from House of H. Come outside, take a look at us."

"Alright?"

Camila reaches the front door of the club and has only just barely stepped outside when she sees Lauren rocketing towards her, her green eyes gleaming, her hair tossed up in a ponytail, and Camila sees that beaming smile just for a blur and then Lauren has her arms around her, hugging her.

"Wow, get a room." Ariana doesn't rush for anyone, but she hugs Camila just as tightly when she reaches them.

"So!" Lauren is shining, makeup-free, in her normal rehearsal clothes: shorts, sports bra, tank top. "What do you think?" Her fingers move quick, tapping from her nose to either ear. "Is it hot? Do I look hot?" She's buzzing with energy - Lauren, freshly nineteen, twirling and waiting for an answer.

"It's awesome. I told you, about the nose ring. I knew it would suit you." Lauren's gotten piercings up and down both her ears, her hair tied up to show them off. And in the LA sunshine, a tiny silver hoop glints on the right side of Lauren's nose. Camila tips forward to kiss Lauren's temple. "Happy birthday, Lo."

"What about me?" Ariana lifts up the sleeve of her oversized t-shirt and shows off these butterfly tattoos on her upper arm, all wrapped up neatly. "I went through way more pain. Got some new ones on my ribs, too." Ariana is delightfully tatted up. It suits her just like Lauren's nose ring.

Speaking of which. "Why does she have that look on her face?"

"What look?" Lauren says with her shit-eating grin, while Ariana gives a big eye-roll. "Laur," she says, "show her."

"Give me a drum roll?" asks Lauren.

"Absolutely not."

Lauren trills her lips and then whirls around, lifting up her ponytail so Camila can see the back of her neck. "Ta-da!"

Camila's jaw drops. "Lauren Michelle."

"Oh my god, don't call me that, you sound like my-" She cuts herself off by turning around again so Camila can see her bright eyes, then turns another circle - the tattoo, again. "Look, look!"

Camila laughs and one hand goes to Lauren's elbow, the one resting on her shoulder, steadying her. "Stop moving," she tells Lauren, "I can't see it."

"Her first tattoo," says Ariana with begrudging respect. "She took it like a champ. I don't wanna sound like a little bitch but I definitely shed a few tears when I got my first one."

"High pain tolerance," says Lauren cheerily, rubbing her bottom lip with her knuckle. Camila gazes at the tattoo, wrapped up like Ariana's, dainty and perfect against the pale, freckled skin of Lauren's neck.

"A dragonfly." She says it almost in wonder.

They'd only talked about tattoos in passing. Camila knew Lauren wanted one, or a couple, and she could see it so clearly - Lauren, all badass and tattooed, leather jacket and tight pants, looking like some hot rock star. You'd never know she cried at the drop of a hat and watched Disney movies whenever she got sad. Just all part of the persona. It fit her so well.

"It's beautiful." Camila's fingers flutter over the tattoo, but she doesn't touch it. "I love it."

Lauren turns around, letting her hair drop from her fist. She's smiling widely. "Do I look older?" She puts her hands on her hips petulantly, every bit the charmingly bratty nineteen year old she's supposed to be, only with a face like a movie star. Lauren and that face. It gets her out of literally everything.

"You've looked twenty-five since you were sixteen, Lauren," Ariana butts in, hooking her arms around both girls and pulling them towards the doors of House of Hernandez. "Come on. To rehearsal we go."

-

"Hey, Lo?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we'd survive the Hunger Games if we were tributes from the same district and got paired together like Katniss and Peeta?"

Lauren and Ariana are sitting out of rehearsal, claiming birthday privileges and tattoo pain. Ariana's at the corner of the stage, chatting with one of the guys in the live band, and while they rehearse one of the only numbers that Camila's not in Camila joins Lauren at one of the front tables in the audience. And then, well. It just popped into her head.

"Yes," Lauren says without missing a beat, then pauses. "Maybe. I think we'd be able to swing the audience. We're both super charismatic and also super sexy so everyone would be rooting for us and wanting to send us shit, so we'd have an advantage in that way."

Camila agrees completely. "Totally. It's a lot of reality show politics, isn't it? If the producers need us to survive, then we'll survive. So we need a good story and lots of supporters. But I think we're compelling enough personalities to pull it off."

"And when we're in the actual arena-"

"We're both physically fit and small enough that we could probably take a defensive stance."

"Exactly. Just a lot of running and hiding so we can play out our own fun storyline in private that everyone else will want to see instead of boring people getting murdered."

"And then we'd kill people only at the very end so we could win together. And we'd never betray each other."

"Right. Although I think we could stage a fight or something for lots of drama. Maybe it gets physical and people think I'm about to kill you and instead I kiss you and everyone goes nuts."

"Lauren."

"I bet in the future they're still fetishizing lesbian relationships. They'd eat us up."

"Lauren."

"What? Hailee is Gale in this scenario. She'd understand."

"I don't think Gale understood. When was the last time you read those books?"

"Dude. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I don't know how to fucking read."

They're in one of those moods where they keep shooting deadpan comments back and forth that get progressively more and more ridiculous until neither of them can hold their giggles in anymore. They end up crying laughing until Lauren almost falls out of her chair and Lucy demands Camila get back onstage for the next number.

Lauren entertains herself by shouting the rest of the conversation at Camila from the audience. "What about the Purge? How would you survive?"

"How would I survive?" Camila repeats. "No, no. How would I win, more like."

It turns into a group conversation. "Tax fraud?" suggests Normani. "I think I saw that on Twitter."

"I'm too stupid to commit tax fraud," says Lauren.

"I think if we all put our heads together we could rob a bank," suggests Liz. There are murmurs of assent.

"I would rob a store," says Camila. "I think that's winning."

"What store?"

"Like, the Apple store. And then sell all the electronics I stole on Ebay or something."

"Okay," says Normani, "but the employees at the Apple store are legally allowed to murder your ass and face no consequences. You'd definitely die."

"Same goes for robbing a bank, though. And there will be way more guards at a bank."

Liz narrows her laser-beam eyes at Camila. "You know what I'd do during the Purge?" she says. "Kill you for shooting down my Purge idea."

"I think all of you would die during the Purge because all of you are so fucking dumb," announces Lucy. "Plus, haven't you seen that YouTube video about how to win the Purge? Organ donation. Pick up all the dead bodies off the streets and give them to hospitals in exchange for money. We could all drive around in a truck, pick up organs, then distribute them. And then, boom. Profit."

"Teamwork!" Camila cheers. Lucy really is the smartest out of all of them.

They are very unfocused today and end up leaving rehearsal to go to their little café and fuck around and be obnoxious to everyone around them. Somehow Lauren got ahold of Dinah's Polaroid camera and keeps taking photos of everyone, piling them up in the center of the table. She has Camila take a picture of the wrapped-up tattoo on the back of her neck and has Normani takes a couple of Camila and Lauren together, the two of them with their heads pressed closed, grinning.

"We really do look better together," Lauren says wistfully. "We should have a regular number we do. Lucy!" She raises her voice. "Can we bring back the S&M remix for me and Camz?"

She's got balls, talking to her ex (sort of) like that, but Lauren is nothing if not unabashedly blunt.

Lucy is not amused. "Absolutely not."

"Yeah, bitch, that was our number," says Normani, elbowing Lauren in the ribs. "Remember? We were so hot." Normani and Lauren are basically physical opposites, which means they look completely and unfairly gorgeous when side-by-side. On impulse, Camila picks the camera up and snaps a photo of the two of them together, candid.

"So hot," Lauren muses, "and yet, so toxic." Normani chuckles at this, winding an arm around Lauren's shoulders.

"Lauren, you are a scoundrel," says Camila. "Someone's gonna kidnap you and put you in a Saw trap one day for your sins against humanity."

"What is with you and horror movies today?" Normani says, while Lauren laughs wildly, seemingly delighted by this. "A scoundrel!" She claps excitedly. "I am Jay Gatsby. I am a scalawag."

"You guys are so fuckin' weird." Normani rolls her eyes and stands up so she can find Dinah and leave Camila and Lauren to their own devices.

"Somebody's going to shoot me in a pool after a convoluted string of lies!" Lauren won't stop giggling. "Hey, I second Mani's question. Have you been watching all these super gory movies without me?"

"You don't even like gore." But she's right. "I mean, yeah. You know I'm living with Hailee now? And she works a lot, so I've just been perusing her movie collection and she has a lot of gross scary movies." She'd watched the whole Saw franchise in one night while embroidering a few pairs of jeans. She flinched, like, every two seconds, but it was still fun. Would it have been more fun if Lauren had been there and they'd been screaming and jumping and laughing and being very dramatic? Undeniably.

But Camila wasn't going to invite Lauren over to the apartment. It just... it felt weird. She can't explain why. She just felt like she shouldn't. Like it would be a bad idea.

"Wow." Lauren is getting that playful look on her face. "You're not scared she's going to murder you in your sleep?"

"Shut up, it's her brother's shit. He's into horror."

"Oh." Suddenly Lauren grows very quiet. "You met her family and stuff?"

"Well, yeah." Camila reaches for her coffee, finishes the last of it, and then goes for Lauren's. "I mean, obviously I already knew Cheri - we all know Cheri - and Hails is really close with her brothers and they're around all the time so I met them too. It was never, like, a formal thing. They're not a super formal family."

"Wow," says Lauren again. She moves up to fidget with her nose ring, and Camila gently takes her hand, putting it back in her lap. "Hey, don't do that. It'll get infected if you touch it too much."

Lauren screws up her lips. Her nose ring, delicate and silvery, is on the same side of her face as that scar on her mouth. Makeup-free it looks even more noticeable, like they're doubled up, that sliver of a scar just a few centimeters under her piercing, a strangely striking parallel.

Lauren touches her bottom lip, and Camila's eyes snap back up to her eyes. "Sorry."

"Mmm." Lauren raises her eyebrows. "You know where I got the scar?"

"Where?"

"Saw trap."

"I fucking knew it!" Camila shrieks too loudly, and everybody at the table shushes her, except for Lauren, who is slapping the arm of her chair and dying laughing at Camila's extreme overreaction.

"You psycho bitch," Lauren chokes out. "Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I know, I can't believe I think you're funny either. It's really a character flaw."

Lauren grins toothily at her and then snatches up one of the Polaroids off the table, showing it to Camila. "We look so cute."

They somehow manage to have chemistry even through the shaky lens of the Polaroid. Camila's looking squarely into the camera, her mouth half-open in a laugh, her fingers caught in a wave. Her other arm is hooked around Lauren's shoulders, where Lauren has intertwined their fingers, looking at Camila with that beaming smile. Her eyes somehow translate just as well in film as they do in person. Her hair is messy, and her nose ring is a blur of silver, but she still looks damn beautiful, like she's daring the camera to catch her looking like anything less than an angel.

"Damn," Camila says aloud. "We are photogenic as fuck."

"Yeah, we are," Lauren agrees, a little dreamily, her fingertips hovering over the two of them. "This one'll work."

-

The party goes like this:

The club is only open for a few hours, and then they close early, locking the doors and gathering in front of the stage for their own little party. Liz doesn't bring her boyfriend - thank god - but a few other people bring friends, and dates.

Hailee looks even prettier than normal. She's dressed to impress, but when is she not? She comes in once their performances start and so the patrons won't leave her alone, and Hailee's never been comfortable with that sort of attention. Despite her almost-recruitment - yeah, she never would have made it as a House of H girl. You have to have thick skin and be at least a little comfortable with being on display all the time.

Still. In between performances Camila goes out into the audience to collect money and keep the random men off of her girlfriend. Once Camila's out on the floor, half-naked and giggling up a storm, all eyes turn to her and Hailee can slip away unnoticed. Camila's grateful she can defend her girl at least to some extent and gain some of the footing that she lost - she doesn't feel as small when she can do this, or as young. She likes it better like that.

Also, the cash doesn't hurt. It never does.

In the short expanse of performance time before Ally cuts them off, all of the girls are buzzing with energy. They'd gotten together Lauren and Ariana's gifts without a hitch, and now they all just want to get drunk and have fun and not have to put on a production for their regulars. Lucy has this rule that the girls cannot get sloppily intoxicated during performances, so she limits their alcohol intake at a certain point, and no one's going to defy the boss.

Camila doesn't like to drink before performing, personally. It ruins her vibe. She's also underage - just barely, but still. Well, if she's being honest she doesn't care all that much about drinking underage. She's twenty! Give her a break.

"I'm going to get drunk tonight," Camila says in Hailee's ear while they're watching the last group performance together. "Will you look after me?" she asks. "Alcohol makes me lose my filter. I will literally say anything when drunk. It's like my truth serum."

Hailee laughs at this, drops a kiss on top of Camila's head. "Of course I'll look after you, baby." She seems a little distracted, her hazel eyes moving around the room, like she's looking for something, or someone, her brow knit almost imperceptibly.

It's true that Camila can be a little clueless when it comes to reading other people, but there are some things she can't help but notice.

-

Here's the thing that you should know:

Camila is not going to realize until much later exactly how monumental this party is. In fact, it will take her months to even come to the conclusion that anything even slightly out of the ordinary happened at this party. Remember what she said about things she can't help but to notice? Yeah, well, throw in lots of alcohol and pretty girls and adrenaline and a couple of cheesy songs and Camila's in her own little world enough to almost entirely disconnect from what is happening right in front of her.

If she were able to go back in time, this is the night she would've stopped at, the night she would've changed.

But, as we all know, hindsight is twenty-twenty. And Camila hasn't realized anything - not yet.

-

"Present time!"

Presents are the first thing they go for after the patrons have been kicked out of the club, because they want to open them before everyone is too drunk to function.

Lauren and Ariana are both sitting on the stage, having both changed into slinky party dresses. Lauren's is a deep emerald green that scoops low in the front and equally as low in the back, and Ariana's is black and strapless, showing off her legs and slender shoulders in equal measures. They're both wearing tacky plastic tiaras on their heads, courtesy of Normani, who while distributing them in the dressing room accidentally hit Camila in the forearm and now she has a tiny pink welt. Lauren had smacked a kiss on her arm, patted the mark, and then cheered, "All better!"

Camila has a drink in her hand and is situated half in Hailee's lap out at one of the front tables. Normani and Dinah keep whooping at them every time Hailee ducks down to kiss Camila but she doesn't care.

The room is shockingly crowded. Everyone has a lot of dates and friends, and sure, they invited some of the most decent club regulars. Camila's taken a shine to some of the best tippers and most respectful ones. Camila also suspects that Lauren and/or Ariana have slept with a lot of the invited regulars, because they all seem very overly friendly in a way that has Camila snickering into Hailee's neck whenever she sees a particularly sexually charged interaction.

"They're whores," she says fondly. "Both of them. I love it."

Camila relaxes with Hailee's hands firmly around her waist, waiting as Lucy brings out Lauren and Ariana's presents, two identical, superbly wrapped boxes. They don't always get them the same gifts, as Camila has been told, but sometimes it's just too perfect to pass up.

"On three?" offers Lauren. She's studying the box like it's going to jump out and yell "boo" at her.

"Of course." Clearly this is a Lauren-Ariana party ritual.

They count down at the same time and then tear into the presents. Lauren lets out a loud gasp when she sees what it is, her hands immediately going up to her mouth, and Ariana just throws her head back and laughs, delighted like Camila has rarely seen her before.

"Oh my god!" Lauren gasps, while Ariana laughs and laughs. "Oh my god!"

"You guys actually fucking listen to me," says Ariana, completely incredulous. "Holy shit."

Sitting in front of them are two identical record players, vintage with wood finishes, gleaming and gorgeous.

They'd come up with the idea in Ally's office, throwing out things. Clothes, makeup, jewelry - but what do you get for two girls who already have all of that? It had to be a little more creative.

They'd said it at the exact same time, a coincidence of almost unholy proportions - Camila and Liz. "Record player."

Liz had whirled around and turned her startlingly bright eyes on Camila. "Shut the fuck up," she said. "Who do you think wants the record player?"

"Lauren, obviously." Lauren needed music like she needed air to breathe. She lived it, moved in it. A couple weeks ago they were in an Urban Outfitters and Lauren had sighed and fawned over the records for at least ten minutes, running her fingers over them like she never wanted to leave.

"There's this great music store a couple blocks from here," she'd told Camila. "So many records. But I don't have a record player so there's no point in getting them." She'd pouted, and then hooked her arm around Camila's and tugged her towards the oversized sweaters.

"Why don't you buy a record player for yourself?"

"Well, now that my sugar mommy has decided she hates my guts, I need to actually put all my money towards trivial and useless things like food and paying my rent." Lauren had said this so loudly that the preteen girl perusing through the miniskirts next to them had shot them an apprehensive and slightly disgusted look, and Lauren had looked up at Camila with big eyes. "I think she heard me."

Camila had snorted. "She's clearly just jealous," she'd reassured Lauren sardonically.

"Record players are just so cool," Lauren said longingly. "Imagine all the people I could get on vinyl. Britney, Lana, Avril..."

"The 1975," Camila had offered. "Kim Petras. Lorde."

"Oh, you're so right!" Lauren clapped her hands. "Do you think All Time Low is on vinyl?"

And Camila just... well, she just knew. It was perfect.

"Lauren doesn't need a record player," Liz said with absolute certainty. "Ariana's the one who needs a record player."

"What? Ari has a record player." When Camila was over at Ariana's for... well, you know, Ariana had put on Lauryn Hill this gorgeous, gorgeous record player, and twirled Camila around the kitchen, some of the softest she'd ever seen her. It was like she'd forgotten that she was supposed to be some stone cold, take-no-prisoners bitch, and was instead giggling and smiling like a child. Camila would always have a special place in her heart for Ariana, even if she could be a grade-A cunt sometimes. Or all the time.

Liz shook her head. "No. She accidentally dropped it and it broke completely. She was so sad about it, too."

"Fuck. Yeah, her mom gave her that. That sucks." Ariana had told her about it, running her hand over the shiny black varnish, extremely proud. It was cute to hear her talk about how much she loved her mom.

Liz raised an eyebrow, all of a sudden looking very territorial. "How did you know her mom gave her the record player?"

"Uhh." Camila avoided her intensely intimidating eyes. "When I. Um. You know. When I stayed over at her place." Normani was trying to hide her laughter next to her, burying her face into Camila's shoulder.

"When she fucked your brains out," Liz supplied, practically glaring into Camila's soul. Even Lucy was snickering into her fist. Dinah was glancing back and forth between the two of them rapturously, like this was a tennis match she couldn't tear her eyes away from.

Camila sucked in a breath, ignoring Normani's death grip on her knee from where she was almost crying from how hard she was attempting to hold in her amusement, and managed to level her chin at Liz. "Sorry, you mean when I fucked her brains out?"

Hoots and hollers went up around the room, and Normani and Dinah both exploded into near-violent laughter, and for a second Liz looked so furious that Camila was sure she was going to cross the room to slap her, but then the animosity on her face slipped into begrudging respect and she put her hands up. "Touché, Cabello," she said, shaking her head as the three of them on the chaise were practically in tears by now.

So... yeah. They bought the record players.

-

"Get a fucking room!"

"Shut up!" Camila yells back, throwing up her middle finger at Normani and Dinah, who are basically all but heckling them. They might have a point. Camila's sitting on the corner of the bar while Hailee is holding her by the waist and they're kissing like there's nobody else in the club. Camila's on her way to tipsy, but Hailee's pretty sober. Still. They are bordering on indecent.

"Camila!"

"Oh my god, what?!" Camila tears herself away from Hailee, but she's giggling within seconds because Hailee's breath is tickling her neck.

"Girl." Normani groans at her. "You're supposed to do your number for Lauren and Ariana."

"Is that right now?" Camila squeals with excitement, hopping off the bartop and tugging the hem of her ultra-short dress farther down her thighs.

"Right now."

"Yay!" Camila cups Hailee's face and lands a quick kiss on her lips before she's scrambling backstage, and then up the stairs towards the dressing room. Yes, she has a costume change. It's time to repay Lauren for the Avril thing.

Oh, and Ariana too. Whatever. Ariana likes Avril just fine. She'll just have to be compliant with this whole mess.

-

"We ready?"

"Yep." One of the guys in their house band, Luke, salutes her. The guys in their band are angels, honestly. Camila went to them with a proposition for this ridiculous number and they were all for it. They're really sweet guys, truly. And so talented. Hey, they managed to pull this out of their ass with little to no rehearsal and still sound awesome.

(Also, Camila's pretty sure Lauren had a fling with one of them, but she can't for the life of her remember which one. All of them are cute in that sort of grungy-hot tattooed boy way - meaning all of them are Lauren's type. She'll ask her later.)

When the velvety red curtain peels upwards, there are instant gasps when people see Camila. She gets it. She doesn't dress like this a lot, but the whole tiny plaid skirt/black lacy top that's more like a bra than anything is pretty killer. Plus, the ripped fishnets, the stompy boots. It's kind of working for her. Her hair is tied back in two low pigtails, and as she gets whistles and catcalls, she twirls around in her skirt, soaking up the applause.

"Thank you, thank you!" It's not a full house - family only. Something like that. Still, her stage persona is on and this is when Camila has never felt hotter or prettier or more confident. "How are we feeling tonight?"

"You look hot!" Lauren screams from the front.

Camila points at her and says in her overly exaggerated performance-voice, "I know!" in a voice so intentionally artificial it has her best friend cracking up. It booms through her headset microphone.

"So, this is just a little something I prepared-" She throws a wink out into the crowd to increasingly inappropriate yelling- "-in honor of our birthday girls. Hope you like it."

Lauren wolf-whistles. Camila has no idea where she learned to do it but she blows a kiss to her anyway. Then she gives a thumbs up to the band and the music kicks on.

Seventeen

She knows, she knows. Lauren's turning nineteen and Ariana's turning... twenty-four? It's the principle of the thing.

He was working at the record shop
I would kiss him in the parking lot
Tasted like cigarettes and soda pop
Seventeen

Lauren knows the song right away, obviously, and is instantly singing the lyrics along. Ariana, sitting next to her at their special "birthday girl" table, is pretending to be too cool to know the words but Camila knows about her former punk phase. Ariana knows her Avril. She just needs it to be coaxed out of her.

He would tell me I was beautiful
Sneaking in the neighbor's swimming pool
Yeah, he taught me how to break the rules
Seventeen

Camila gets closer to the front of the stage, approaching Lauren and Ariana's table, dropping to her knees. She can't stop smiling. Lauren's basically vibrating with energy, and Ariana's nose is crinkled up, arms crossed over her chest, fighting back a grin. She's faking that she's not enjoying this, but she is. She so is.

Hey, those days are long gone
But when I hear that song
It takes me back

And then Camila grabs Lauren's wrist with one hand and Ariana's wrist in the other, and in seconds she has them clambering up on the stage for the chorus.

We were on top of the world
Back when I was your girl
We were living so wild and free

They're spinning each other around, stamping heels on the stage, Lauren and Ariana in their perfect party dresses and gaudy plastic tiaras, radiant under the spotlights. Camila wraps her arms around the two of them, flushed and glowing.

She taps Ariana's arm, watching her ponytail swing towards her, and then gestures to the microphone sitting lonely at center stage. Ariana takes one look at it and then looks back at Camila frantically, but Camila's already pulling them towards the microphone, Lauren holding her hand, a cheerfully thrilled mess.

She tilts the microphone on stage towards Ariana. The message is clear. Sing.

And finally stubborn, hardass Ariana rolls her eyes and gives up and does just that.

Acting stupid for fun
All we needed was love
That's the way it's supposed to be

She has one of the most beautiful voices Camila's ever heard, even with this stupid, stupid song. Camila hangs off of her shoulder, Lauren clasping onto Camila's arm, and the two of them look at each other as Ariana's voice sails through the song like it's nothing. It's mesmerizing, even with these cheesy words, and she still knows every single one.

We were running red lights
We were going all night
Didn't care about anything

Lauren leans her forehead against Camila's temple. "She's so amazing," she murmurs in Camila's ear, and Camila squeezes her waist, laughing and trying to sing the words at the same time. "I know, I know," she says back, and she and Lauren are both giggling like maniacs.

You're an angel, she mouths at Ariana, who is beaming and blushing at the same time, lifting her heavily tattooed hands up to cover her cheeks. Camila doesn't see her like this often, or ever. It's breathtaking, the way she smiles and laughs into her palms, that porcelain-doll façade shattering.

Cause it was you and me
We were living the dream
When we were seventeen

Camila pulls both her girls closer to her, cheek to cheek, all three of them, and as the band behind them fades out, they're met with whoops and hollers that are much more enthusiastic (read: aggressive) than usual, because family is like that. They root for you like no other.

"I love you stupid bitches," Ariana gets out between her and Lauren's uncontrollable laughing. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, Camzi," Lauren adds, kissing Camila's cheek very softly, her eyes dancing, too happy to contain herself. "We love you."

"I know." Camila leans her head on Ariana's shoulder, and they struggle to take their bows so intertwined but they manage anyway. "I love you guys too."

Seventeen

-

Lauren accompanies Camila back up to the dressing room as Camila shimmies out of her plaid skirt and back into her red party dress - red's sort of always been her color. "We seriously need to talk to Lucy and Ally about making Ariana one of the featured performers," Camila says, before turning around and tapping her back. "Zip me?"

Lauren complies, brushing Camila's hair out of the way gently and pulling up the zipper. "I know," she says. "It's criminal. She has a way better voice than both of us. I actually think she's a better singer than a dancer. She should be our top girl."

"Did you see her and Liz?"

"Um, obviously." Liz had all but tugged Ariana off the stage when they were done, the two of them laughing and whispering and very, very close. "Did she dump her boyfriend again? They look... friendly."

"Beats me." Camila turns a circle in her dress, smoothing out her hair. "Okay, how do I look?" She snags her phone off of the vanity - a better time than any to give Lauren her birthday present.

"Hot." Something is glinting in Lauren's expression. Camila stares at her suspiciously. "What's with the face?"

"What face?" Lauren asks with a catlike little grin, and Camila lets it slide.

They end up in Ally's office, where Lauren points out the bottle of tequila on her shelf. "Don't drink it," she warns. "That was the bottle I bought after I stole the other one from the bar. See, I told you I'd replace it."

Camila chuckles at how lame and adorable she is as Lauren hoists herself up on Ally's desk, which is practically House of Hernandez treason and is grounds for murder if anyone caught her.

Lauren hums, her feet swinging against the desk. They must be smarting in her heels, but she still manages to make even walking in six-inch shoes seem like this effortless thing. "Can I tell you something?" she asks, her green eyes going large.

Camila settles on the chaise lounge, curling up against the velvet. She drank a little more after performing and is now tipsy enough to feel pleasantly warm and bubbly inside but sober enough to still be coherent. "Of course, Lo," she says. "Hit me."

"These parties have always been awesome," Lauren starts, her voice taking on that dreamy, almost intense quality that is a telltale sign she's about to go onto some tangent that will leave Camila inexplicably enraptured. No one is as compelling of a speaker as Lauren is. "In high school I was always such a fucking loser. Nobody liked me." She pauses, and Camila registers in shock, staring at Lauren's pink cheeks, that she's embarrassed.

"What?" Camila laughs incredulously. "I can't see that at all."

Lauren shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself, all of a sudden looking very young. "I didn't have very many friends," she says, "or any, I guess. And I never got invited to any parties. All I did was study and go to House of H whenever possible. People thought I was annoying, I guess. Or a dork. Talked too much, wasn't cool enough, that sort of thing."

"That's fucking insane," Camila says in bewilderment. She reaches her hands out for Lauren, motioning for her to join her on the chaise, and Lauren does, immediately hooking one of her legs over Camila's lap, the two of them constantly connected. Camila rests her hands on Lauren's knee, staring into Lauren's impossibly pretty face, and wondering how that would even be possible.

"That's insane," she repeats as Lauren blinks up at her. "You're, like, the coolest, prettiest, baddest bitch alive." She might be a little more drunk than she thought, and Lauren snorts out a laugh despite herself. "Seriously, Lauren, that's crazy. I always pictured you as being a total Cher from Clueless. Super gorgeous and kind of ditzy but everyone worships you because you're all charismatic and likable and shit."

Lauren eyes her at the ditzy comment but seems to make the conscious decision to let that one slide between all the other compliments.  "Yeah, well, that definitely wasn't me. I was basically living a Hannah Montana life. Loser in school, head bitch at House of H. No offense to Hannah. I don't think she was a loser in high school."

Camila frowns at her. "Oh, Lolo," she mumbles, squeezing Lauren's knee. It's very strange of her to think about Lauren like that. Lauren, brilliantly beautiful Lauren, who Camila assumed must have used her almost inhumanly stunning looks to aid her all her life. But she wasn't just pretty, either - she was charismatic, and intelligent, and hilarious. How could she have been- been an outcast? Shit, Camila could be an awkward, self-conscious dork herself and she was head cheerleader for a hot minute. It seems unbelievable.

"It's just nice to not be that girl anymore, I guess," says Lauren. She manages a tiny smile. "I'm glad you didn't meet me when I was that girl. I don't think you'd even like me half as much."

Camila's heart breaks. "Lauren." She loops her arms around Lauren's neck, careful to avoid the tattoo, and pulls her in for a tight hug. "Don't say that," she tells her. "I would like every single version of you in every single universe there is. There isn't anything you could ever do to make me not like you."

She feels more than hears the little hitch in Lauren's breath, and they've always been like this - the two of them, emotions always running so high, going from cracking jokes to utterly sincere heart-to-hearts within minutes.

Case in point: when they pull back, Camila takes Lauren's jaw and gently pecks a kiss to her forehead. Lauren's eyes are just a little glassy but she still finds it in her to say, "You just kissed my third eye."

Camila scoots back. "Come again?"

"I'm so enlightened now." Lauren taps her forehead, doing that thing she does where she's being too serious to actually be serious.

For a second the two of them just stare at each other, but then the corner of Lauren's mouth twitches and she must notice how Camila's lips fold inward and then the two of them explode into laughter, and Lauren stumbles up from the couch, slipping on her heels a little bit as she wheezes. "No, no!" she cries, waving her hands in the air. "Don't ruin the moment! I need to get something! Keep the emotional moment going!"

"Excuse me?" Camila exclaims, clutching at her stomach as Lauren ducks behind Ally's desk. "You were the one who ruined it with that shit about your third eye!"

"Shh!" Lauren produces something from Ally's desk and then holds it high in the air, like a prize. "I found it!"

"You found what?" Camila surveys the item curiously. When Lauren settles back on the chaise next to her, she realizes it's a notebook, leather-bound and sort of vintage-looking in an incredibly aesthetically pleasing way. "What is that?"

"This is why I wanted to tell you that stuff so we could have a heartwarming moment while I gave you this." She sets it gently in Camila's lap. "Your birthday present."

Camila's eyebrows fly up. "My birthday present? It's your birthday!"

"Yeah, but." Lauren taps the cover of the notebook gently. "Look, so I didn't know what day your birthday was. But I knew you were a Pisces, so I was already planning something like this when February 19th rolled around, but then it was March 20th and you hadn't said anything about your birthday so I figured it wasn't something you liked to talk about. But I still have this gift and I wanted to give you it."

Camila's mouth falls open. "Lauren." That's so- god, that's so thoughtful, and sweet, and Camila always knows Lauren cares but it still manages to surprise her when she sees how much. She feels her herself getting sappy, and she grabs Lauren's hand and squeezes it. "You genius bitch. I can't believe you... jesus." She looks down at the notebook. "What is it?"

"Remember in January when you played that song for me?"

"And I cried and it was super embarrassing?" Yes, Camila remembers. Lauren saying I've actually written a couple of songs myself, and then the things she'd said to her after Camila had played that song about her dad, what was supposed to be tough love but actually ended up being very caring and sweet.

"It wasn't embarrassing," Lauren tells her softly. "But... so, I had this idea. And you can totally turn me down if you want, it's up to you. But I wanted to ask-" Lauren trips a little over her words, and she looks more nervous than Camila has ever seen her. "Do you want to ever try writing songs with me?"

A multitude of different emotions comes crashing into Camila's chest in that moment, and she doesn't know if she has it in her to untangle them all right now. "What?"

Lauren flips open the notebook, and inside the front cover there's the Polaroid of them together that they took earlier today - Lauren must have come up here and taped it in sometime during rehearsal when Camila wasn't paying attention. Sneaky bitch. "You can totally say no," says Lauren again. "I just thought I'd ask. Because you love to write songs and I love to write songs and, well... you know we've always made a really good team."

She seems to take Camila's silence as a bad sign. "Sorry," she rushes, moving to close the notebook. "It was just an idea, I didn't mean-"

"Lo." Camila places her hand over Lauren's, stopping her. Lauren's eyes are huge, and Camila can see every single feeling run through those ever-expressive eyes, mesmerizing in how vulnerable, incredible in how beautiful.

She smiles at her. "I'd love to write songs with you."

Lauren's eyebrows lift, and her shoulders sag with relief. "Really?" Her voice is flooded with almost childish excitement. "Yay!" And in that single instant she is so damn cute that Camila wraps her up in another hug, the notebook falling between them, Lauren kicking her feet like she tends to do when especially happy.

"You're something else, you know that?" Camila says in her ear, and then it hits her. "Oh, fuck, I need to give you your present!"

"What?" Lauren laughs, brushing her hair behind her ears as Camila goes for her phone, balanced against the arm of the chaise. "But you already gave me a present! The record player?"

"No, this is just from me." Camila puts their new notebook carefully on the end table and then hands Lauren her phone, scrolling until she clicks on the thing she's looking for. "Okay. Look."

Lauren stares, and then looks up at Camila, then looks back at the phone, like she can't believe it. "You..." She seems at a loss for words, and it's so similar to how Camila was just moments before that she marvels at how similar they are, always. "You made me a playlist?"

Camila fakes a gasp, clutching a dramatic hand to her chest. "What gave it away, the title?" It's called, quite fittingly, lolo, accompanied with a string of cat emojis and flowers that are all in Lauren's most recent emojis list (which Camila knows from personal experience).

"Shut up," Lauren murmurs, speechless, hitting Camila's knee, but there's no weight behind it. "Oh my god, Camila."

"Music's your love language, bitch. What else could I have done for you?"

"Music isn't one of the love languages," says Lauren automatically, just like Camila knew she would. "Jesus fucking christ. This is so..." She flicks through the songs, her eyes growing larger and larger at each one. "Camz, I don't... I don't even know what to say."

Camila presses her lips together to hide how proud she is of herself. Leaving the eternally talkative Lauren Jauregui searching for words. "Because it's so good or because it's so bad?" she teases, even though she already knows the answer solely by the look on Lauren's face. Her eyes drop down to the different songs she started putting in this playlist since December, when she knew that whatever she gave Lauren for her birthday would have to be equally as good as the present she gave her at Christmas, or better.

She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5 - fuck Maroon 5, honestly (a sentiment Lauren had echoed plenty of times), but that song was almost too perfect. Every time Camila heard it she thought of Lauren. The words were too fitting.

Lucky, but the Glee Cast version - for obvious reasons.

The Only Exception by Paramore. Also for obvious reasons.

Plenty of Britney and Avril and Lana, because Camila knew Lauren loved them. All the songs they'd either sang together or around each other or about each other. Remembering Sunday. She's so Mean. Misery Business. Shutter Island. Someone You Loved. Wish You Were Here. Happiness is a Butterfly. Cry Baby. And even more that had just made Camila think of Lauren at any given moment in time: Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, and also the Darren Criss version from Glee, because she just can't help herself. I Don't Think I Can Do This Again - Clairo. N.Y.E. by Blackbear. 18 by One Direction. Not all the songs are sweet, but all of them are Lauren, are so completely Lauren.

"It's basically a musical composition of you," explains Camila. Of us, she almost says, but she doesn't. More than fifty songs, less than one hundred. "Okay, seriously, you didn't answer whether it was so good or so bad-"

"You fucking cunt," Lauren says, voice thick, and then she practically throws herself at Camila in yet another hug, and this is all they do, the two of them constantly entwined, attached at the hip. "I fucking love you."

"I love you too." Camila grins as she hears Lauren laugh, because it sounds a little teary, because both of them are so completely sentimental and dramatic. "I told you that you'd cry."

"Fuck you," Lauren tells her very aggressively to cover up her watery eyes, pushing at her shoulder. "I changed my mind. I fucking hate you." But like Camila said, her eyes never lie, and they're telling a completely different story.

-

"Alright, get out. I need to get changed for my number which means being very naked and your girlfriend will not like you being here for that."

"What?" Camila looks up from their new notebook at an expectant Lauren. They've somehow stopped being sappy fools long enough to return to their vanities and fix their makeup, and Camila's busied herself with the notebook, jotting down a few things on the front page. Her mind's already swimming with words; it's like it never turns off.

She studies Lauren for a second, placing the notebook on her vanity. Something has changed in Lauren's expression, and she has that mischievous look on her face that she's kept returning to all day - her scheming face, like with Ariana and Liz; planning something, never good. "You're going onstage? I thought your tattoo pain kept you from performing."

"It's a surprise number!" Lauren says enthusiastically. "Come on, I'm sure you're gonna love it."

Camila stares at her. "What does that mean?"

But Lauren just blinks at her, the picture of innocence. "What?" She has an AirPod in, and Camila knows without looking that she's listening to the playlist Camila made for her. She sent her the Spotify link after Lauren got done staring at the entire playlist, open-mouthed, too touched to speak.

The gift seems to have struck something in Lauren. She's filled with a suspicious amount of energy, so excited she's practically buzzing. Camila doesn't know what it is or what this number is or what even to expect.

"Okay, birthday girl," she relents, squeezing Lauren's arm as she passes. "I'll make sure to have five-dollar bills to toss onstage."

"This performance is going to deserve more than fives, asshole," Lauren tells her, a very sly smile curling at her lips.

"If you say so." Camila taps her heel gently to Lauren's shin, the unspoken break a leg making Lauren's smile widen. "Knock 'em dead, Lolo."

"I always do!" Lauren calls in a lilting voice, and Camila shakes her head. She took a leftover shot that one of the girls abandoned on their vanities and now her comprehension skills might finally be getting affected by her alcohol consumption tonight.

Whatever. Hailee said she'd watch over her. She'll be okay.

-

"Hi, baby." She practically spills into Hailee's lap when she finally gets back to their table. She got distracted by one of the regulars at the bar, who bought her more drinks. The alcohol has hit her quicker than expected.

"Hi." Hailee steadies her at her waist. "Oh, Cami. How drunk are you?"

"Not sloppy. Not blackout." She kisses Hailee's cheek. "Just happy."

"Right." Hailee looks a little far away, but Camila doesn't know if that's the alcohol talking or whatever the fuck. "Where were you?"

"At the bar. And then before that talking with Lauren," says Camila. "We exchanged birthday presents. Were we gone long?"

"Not really." Hailee strokes her hands through Camila's hair. "Was that all you did? Exchange presents?"

"Yep," Camila chirps, tapping Hailee's nose with her finger. All of a sudden Hailee's eyes seem hyper-focused on Camila.

"You and Lauren looked pretty cozy onstage," she says.

"Uh-huh." Camila curls up to Hailee. "It's because we're best friends. We're very close."

"Right." Hailee continues stroking Camila's hair, and Camila keens into her touch. "And you were never anything more than friends, huh?"

"Hmm?" Camila doesn't know what she's getting at and she's a little too intoxicated to read the situation. Plus, she kind of likes that Hailee is asking about her House of Hernandez family. She doesn't do it a lot, and it makes Camila feel like Hailee really actually cares about her work life, for once. She rarely ever asks questions about her friends. It feels good that she's doing it now. "Yeah, I told you that."

"She's never asked you out? Tried to make a move?"

"Lauren?" Camila giggles into Hailee's neck. "No, never. We're just best friends."

"Best friends," Hailee repeats. "That's very sweet."

Camila tips her chin up to look at Hailee, but her face is like marble - beautiful, impossible to read. And Camila feels very small again. Always very small.

"I'm drunk," she says in a tiny voice. "Sorry."

"I know you are," Hailee says, and then kisses her.

She knows I'm drunk or she knows I'm sorry? Camila's intoxicated brain asks, but then she doesn't know why it matters so the question disappears from her mind.

"Hey!" There's a loud, ear-piercing whistle from stage right, and there Lucy is, looking every bit their stage manager with her hands planted on her hips authoritatively.

"Here's Lauren," she says, such an abrupt and gruff introduction that it's almost comical, and Camila shakes with laughter as she shifts in Hailee's lap so she can face the stage. Now she'll finally get to see this special number that had Lauren get her scheming face on.

And then the curtain lifts, and there's a stripper pole.

Honestly
When we speak
Feels like it's behind her back

There are very loud cheers as Lauren steps on stage, and Camila's jaw drops, and then she can't stop laughing, still. Holy fucking shit.

Lauren is wearing this sheer black robe over a corset and some of the most scandalous and intricate lingerie that Camila has ever seen. Her lipstick is red, her eyes are so green, and she looks like sex on wheels as she walks towards the pole in her shoes that she's changed to be even higher. They're proper stripper heels, Camila thinks, almost in awe. Jesus christ. How does she not roll an ankle?

And her voice, of course. That smoky, flawless voice. Camila's never heard this song, but it sounds good.

(Also. She's too drunk to register any of the lyrics.)

Cause if she saw
The chemistry
The dominos would all collapse

Camila stares at the stage, open-mouthed. It's sort of fascinating and all the way sexy, the way Lauren moves around the pole, seeming so natural and comfortable even while singing, every note of her raspy alto voice bouncing off the high ceilings and dark walls of the club, filling the space - all Lauren, all the time. She makes it look so easy.

She's not the one you call
At night when you feel lonely
We say we're friends
We know we're not

Well. This is clearly not Lauren's first time on a stripper pole. That's all Camila can really say about that.

I know that I should keep it to myself
But I can't
I can't help
That I just wanna keep you to myself
It's a rush
It's a problem

Lauren peels off her robe sensually, and the crowd roars with applause. People actually are throwing money on the stage. It's both impressive and in Camila's drunkenness kind of hilarious. She tries to hide her laughter in her palms but she's sure some of it escapes.

Do you think she knows about
Us talking all the time
We almost kissed last night
And we still might

She's just, like, damn good. She must take lessons, huh? Who can move like that on a stripper pole with those heels and while singing and maintaining perfect breath control? She's very skilled. Just another thing for the outrageously talented Lauren Jauregui to check off her resume. Can pole dance and sing at the same time. Check!

I should keep it to myself
Can you tell
I can't help it
That I just wanna keep you to myself

God. This should not be as funny as it is. That look on Lauren's face - that playful, mischievous, scheming look, is still there, which only amuses Camila more because she knows that she's up to something. She doesn't know what, but it strikes her as very funny nonetheless.

Wanna say
Everything
Everything except the truth

Lauren removes off what Camila originally thought was a corset, but now is recognizing it must have been something else. Corsets lace up. She couldn't have removed one so fast just like it was velcro. Was it velcro? It came off so easily. Well, just a trick of burlesque, probably. Maybe it's another thing Lauren learned in her pole dancing classes. Either way, it leaves Lauren in that really pretty lingerie, black against her pale skin, making her sort of look like a hot vampire.

Scared to sit
Close to you
Cause I don't trust what I might do

God. Camila is fucking drunk.

You stare a bit too long
My heart, it beats unsteady
We say we're friends
We know we're not

She becomes acutely aware of eyes on her from the next table over. Settling further back against Hailee, she glances over, where Ariana, Normani, and Dinah are all sitting at one table.

All three of them are staring at her. Ariana's lips are parted, her eyes wide, glancing from Camila back to Lauren. She looks shocked, or nervous, or something. She tries to mouth something at Camila, but the lights are too low and Camila's attention span is shit even when she's not drunk, so Ariana's not gonna get anything from her.

Instead, Camila just waves, a dopey smile on her face. It's probably something about how hilarious and still impressive Lauren's performance is. Like, what else could it be?

Don't wanna let you go
But you gotta know
That I need you
I need you badly

Hmm. Or maybe Ariana knows where Lauren took those pole dancing lessons. She knows all the tricks, like the girls in Hustlers. Damn, that movie was good. Lauren must have some serious upper body strength to support herself like that on the pole. And where did they get a stripper pole, anyway? Did they lower it from the ceiling? Camila doesn't think she's ever seen it used before.

Oh, so tell me why
Why you're still with her
When you know that deep down you want me

Whatever. It's still cool. Maybe Camila can take a pole dancing class with Lauren.

She sways along to the song on Hailee's lap as Lauren goes for the chorus, her voice stretching for the high notes, rasping like she's the one who chainsmokes on the roof instead of Ariana. Lauren used to smoke, didn't she? Maybe that's why her voice sounds like that. That's crazy. But Camila likes the whole sexy-raspy thing she's got going on. And clearly everyone else does too! She's getting a lot of money tonight. That's so cool.

I can't help it
That I just wanna keep you to myself

Finally, Lauren slows with a twirl around the pole, surprisingly steady in those damn heels. The music fades out, and immediately the audience is on their feet, clapping and whooping and throwing dollar bills at her. Camila would stand but she feels too comfortable, and instead she lifts her hands very high, adding to the applause.

She's close enough to the stage for Lauren to see her clearly, and when Lauren comes up from her bow, she sends Camila a wink. Camila cracks up. She's so fuckin' ridiculous.

And then all of a sudden Camila is getting upended, disturbed from her spot on Hailee's lap. She pouts as Hailee lifts her, and then just as gently sets her back in her seat. "Hey," she whines, peering up at her girlfriend's face. "I was comfy."

"I know," says Hailee. Every bit of her face is like stone, completely impassive. "I'll be back in a second."

"Okay." Camila's pout melts into a smile. "I love you," she calls after Hailee, but her girlfriend moves fast, and she's already gone before she can hear her.

-

So. This is the part where Camila's memory gets sort of hazy.

She remembers Normani, Dinah, and Ariana around her, at her table, saying stuff to her. And she remembers one of them getting her water in order to sober her up a little bit, and she remembers Ariana trying to tell her something in a frantic, fast voice, but it was too loud in the club and her brain was working too slowly to catch any of it.

She remembers that Normani and Dinah were also kind of drunk, so after they went to go get her water the four of them got caught in a debate about whether Maroon 5 was good or not because Camila had them on the brain after her playlist to Lauren. No, wait, not the four of them. Only the three of them: only Camila, Normani, and Dinah. Ariana had gone somewhere at that point, Camila didn't know. And she was too drunk to care.

And then she drank too much water, because she said, "I have to pee!" too loudly and Normani and Dinah were cracking up, and so Camila made her way towards the backstage bathrooms, only for the performers. Less likely to catch herpes, Camila mentally recites, like Lucy had said, and she finds that hilarious again so she's giggling her head off as she swings open the bathroom door.

"Oh." She stops short, letting the door swing shut behind her. Standing at the sink are Ariana and Lauren, heads bent together, talking intensely, and the moment she walks in both of them turn to look at her so fast she thinks they must have gotten some sort of whiplash. "Hi, guys!"

Ariana lowers her makeup brush from Lauren's face. Her Louis-Vuitton-printed bag of makeup is sitting on the counter, concealers and powders sprawled across the sink. Lauren looks kind of weird, Camila registers, but she can't place what it is. Her eyes are owlishly big, and kind of shiny, glinting in the garishly bright overhead lighting. She's gripping the sink so hard her knuckles are turning white.

"Hi, Mila," Ariana says. She looks at Lauren again, and the two of them stare at each other for a second before Lauren turns and flips her hair, arranging it differently around her face. "Um. What are you doing in here?"

Camila ignores the question. "What's going on?" she asks, stumbling towards them, letting Ariana catch her around the middle. "Are we having a bathroom party?" She laughs, steadying herself against Ariana's shoulder. "Oh, that sounds porn-y." She grins at Lauren, who still looks very distant, almost ghostly. She had the weirdest expression on her face, something Camila can't describe.

"Hey." Camila reaches out for Lauren's hand, and feels odd when Lauren dodges. "You okay? You look kinda..." She tilts her head. "Well, beautiful. But you know what I mean."

"Fine," says Lauren. Her lipstick has come off in flakes around her mouth, and when she goes to untuck her hair from behind her ear, Camila sees the remnants of her red lipstick smeared all over her fingers, like she's tried to scrub it off. Her voice sounds tight, almost as if it's caught in her throat.

But all of those things flit through Camila's brain and exit seconds later. "Okay!" she says happily. "We still going to that 24-hour diner soon?"

Lauren and Ariana exchange another long, unreadable look. "You know, I think we might call that off tonight," says Ariana, but her gaze doesn't leave Lauren's face. Ariana taps her own cheekbone, right under her eye, and Lauren whirls around again to inspect her reflection in the mirror.

"We're all pretty wasted," Ariana continues, her eyebrows just barely drawn together. "So. I think we're all just going to head home."

"Oh, okay." Camila glances at Lauren, who is hunched over the sink, her head bowed low. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, then?"

"Yep," says Ariana.

"Lolo?"

Lauren turns toward her only halfway, and Camila can see only one brilliantly green eye, unusually shiny; her nose ring catching in the light, the scar visible now that her lipstick has been wiped away, starkly white . Lauren nods her head, just once, just a little, and Camila can see her throat bob when she swallows hard.

"Alright." Camila fidgets with the hem of her dress, all of a sudden feeling very awkward. "Um, I sort of had to pee, so..."

"Right." Ariana starts packing up her make-up, zipping the case shut, and then very gently she takes Lauren's hand. "Come on, Laur, I'll drive you home."

"Drive her?" Camila asks as Ariana and Lauren head towards the door. "Haven't you been drinking?"

Ariana pauses right in the doorway, letting Lauren walk through ahead of her. "No," she says finally. "You're not supposed to drink right after you get a tattoo."

Then they're both gone, and Camila is left staring into her own reflection, seeing nothing but her own confusion.

God. She's too drunk to work any of this out. Maybe tomorrow she'll get to the bottom of this.

-

Afterwards, she goes up to the dressing room to collect her dance bag and all her things, and then goes out to find Hailee on the floor. It's not hard. Just look for the nearly six-foot could-be model fielding offers to buy her drinks. Camila spots her right away.

"Hi, baby," she coos when she reaches her, immediately falling towards Hailee in a hug. Her girlfriend's arms wrap snugly around her waist, and Camila marvels at how good she smells. "I think it's time to go back to the apartment," she tells her. "I'm drunk as fuck."

She feels Hailee laugh. "Alright, missy. Want to stop anywhere for food on the way home?"

"Hmm." Camila pulls back. Hailee's been tense all night, but only now does she seem to finally be relaxed, her posture loose and her smile easy. "Wow," Camila says, moving to cup Hailee's perfect face in her hands. "You're like the prettiest girl ever."

Hailee just laughs her perfect, bell-chime laugh again. "Thanks, love," she says very patiently. "You didn't answer my question."

"No, I'll eat leftovers." Camila squints out into the crowd, waving at the rest of the girls she sees. She looks up at Hailee. "Hey, will you carry me to the car?"

Hailee scoffs good-naturedly. "What are you, twelve?" she asks, settling for a firm arm around Camila's waist as she leads her towards the exist.

Camila pouts at her. "You're no fun," she tells Hailee, but she breaks into a grin minutes later, because Hailee's laughing at her yet again and she's just so damn pretty when she laughs.

Still, like a perfect gentleman (gentlewoman? Who cares), Hailee lifts her into the passenger seat and buckles the seat belt for her, and lets Camila control the music. Camila puts on the playlist she made for Lauren, naturally, because she has great taste, and sings along to every song.

"Tonight was great," she says. "Wasn't it? Did you have fun?"

Hailee hums. "It was certainly an interesting night," she says, and Camila doesn't notice anything hidden in her words because she's about to fall the fuck asleep. Whatever. Another thing she can deal with tomorrow.

-

The next morning, she wants to die when she gets to rehearsal. Most of the girls look like they want to die. It's a whole sea of oversized sunglasses and extra-large coffees and very sluggish dance moves. Lucy would probably be tearing them a new asshole by now, but she looks to be just as hungover, so she's letting their less-than-ideal performance slide.

"Why didn't you just give us a fuckin' day off?" Liz demands. She and Ariana are practically glued to each other's side today. Camila makes a mental note to ask Ariana about it later.

Lucy, sitting in the audience instead of on her feet working them like a drill sergeant, lifts her sunglasses just to give Liz an unimpressed look. "If you keep running your mouth I could ask everyone to go home and keep you here for solo rehearsal, Liz. I was just thinking you could use some extra work anyway."

Camila chokes out a laugh and grabs Normani's arm for support. Liz grumbles under her breath and flips off Lucy, who just smiles sweetly and lowers her sunglasses back down. She's their boss, after all. She can take out the claws when she wants to. Especially when she's hungover.

"Hey." Camila finally manages to catch Lauren between numbers. Lauren's wearing a full face of makeup, which is a little impractical for rehearsal but not exactly unheard of for Lauren (or Camila, for that matter). "Are you okay? Last night- well, honestly, I was, like, drunk out of my mind, so my memory might be a little fuzzy, but you seemed sort of... off. In the bathroom."

Lauren raises her eyebrows. "Did I?" She's acting completely normal this morning, fun and light and breezy like Lauren tends to be. "Sorry. I must have been fucked up, I don't remember that well, either. Sometimes I get weird when I drink."

Camila nods, and then leans her head on Lauren's shoulder, opening up her phone to Instagram. Halfway through her feed Lauren starts reaching over and liking the posts for her, which makes Camila giggle. "I hope you had a good birthday," she murmurs, turning to peck a kiss to Lauren's shoulder, but before she can Lauren is leaning out of her way to grab her water bottle.

"Yeah, yeah," says Lauren, unscrewing the top of the bottle, grinning her carefree, slightly crooked grin at Camila. "I did, thanks. It was wonderful."

It's not until they're back full-force into the routine for the next number that the thought pops into Camila's head, a remnant from last night. Ariana in the doorway of the bathroom, looking back at Camila before she left. You're not supposed to drink right after you get a tattoo, she'd said.

Camila glances over at Lauren. Her hair is down in thick, messy waves, but Camila can still envision that dragonfly tattoo on the back of her neck. Lauren doesn't seem hungover or anything, she notes, but Lauren can handle her alcohol most of the time. And she wouldn't lie, would she? Not to Camila. They don't lie to each other.

After they're done running the number, Camila is about to ask her about it, but Lauren is already having a very loud conversation with Ariana. "Whore to whore," Lauren is saying, "do you think Nev from Catfish is hot?" And then she cracks up laughing at her own question, even though Camila's pretty sure she's entirely serious.

She seems completely normal. Normal, ridiculous, perfectly charming Lauren. Camila herself was drunk last night, anyway. She could have been imagining all the weirdness, couldn't she? It's completely plausible that Lauren was just ignoring the rules and drinking after her tattoo anyway. Or maybe Ariana knew the no-drinking rule just because she's had plenty of tattoos and this was Lauren's first, so she didn't know.

Yeah. It could be any one of those things. And Lauren seems completely fine now, and not- not weird, glassy-eyed, white-knuckling the sink like Camila remembered her yesterday. She's fine. Either Lauren was drunk, or Camila was exaggerating the whole thing in her very wasted brain.

Really, there's no other explanation for it.

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hi guys vote & comment & tell me ur thoughts if you want........... this was a wordy ass chapter i know let me know what you think <3333 thanks for reading if you managed to get through it LMFAO