#FanficThursday: The Only One (Camille and Moose) – Step Up – Chapter 33

Chapter 33 – A news bomb (Las Vegas)

Camille & Moose, Step Up 3 (VivaVideo screenshot)

My head is going to explode.

That’s my first thought when I open my eyes because of some tremendous knocking on the door. On the other side of the curtains, there seems to be quite a lot of light; ergo, it is daylight. The knocking sounds again, so like a zombie, I get out of bed and pick the first thing I can to get dressed because, in a tenth of a second and even in my condition, I’m able to deduce that I am completely naked. Yeah, the previous day’s shirt will do. Late, I realize it’s Moose’s. Who, to make matters worse is still lying face down with his head almost buried in the pillow and snoring in total happiness.

I roll my eyes and am about to warn him that they are knocking, but the knocks―which of course have not managed to wake him up…something that not even a Navy gun, in the usual way, could do―insist like a hammer blow on my battered head so, with a not very firm step because of the sleep and the hangover, I go towards the door, opening only a crack.


It’s Sean, which makes my eyes open wide this time. But I don’t have time to respond before he blows like a locomotive and tells me:

“Ah, I finally hear from you guys! Good!”

In the face of this, my face unravels in the most absolute bewilderment.

“Sean… What are you talking about? What time is it?”

He gestures with obvious impatience.

“Quarter to nine,” he says, which causes something to be removed in my thick brain mass before he confirms me. “We have a meeting in the theater in 15 minutes.”

Oh… Shit is all I can think of before I slam the door in Sean’s face. 

But then I open it again, and whisper:

“In ten minutes we’ll be there.”

Right away, I run to open the curtains. Which causes, this time, my dear, sleepy boyfriend to stick a pot on the mattress. The noise doesn’t bother him, but the light… Oh, that’s another song.

“Come on”, I squeeze him at his one bewildered grunt. “We’re late.”

He, without speeding up too much, rubs his eyes.

“Late? To what?”

If the gazes could kill, he would have already been smitten on the sheets.

“The Vortex. Show. Contract. Meeting!” I’m saying, full speed ahead, as I race into the bathroom.

Since Moose’s grandparents left last night and gave us the room, extending the reservation by at least one more day, he and I preferred to sleep here instead of in the suite with the others―it’s a matter of privacy if you know what I mean.

A few seconds later, I hear his footsteps behind me and see his face in the mirror. His eyes have already opened wide and he’s moving at full speed, but with natural agility and grace that I can’t help but stare at him like a fool as I gather my hair in a ponytail. Moose washes his face and then combs his dark curls back, almost in a single gesture, leaving his hair soaking wet. And I don’t realize how shocked I am until she turns to me and says:

“Cam, wake up…”

At that moment, I finish my hair immediately and chase him out into the room. But before I get to the door, he stops me and says with a half-smile:

“I’d be jealous of the rest of the group could see more of your skin than I could in public”, and to my still dull head’s surprise, he whispers in my ear. “You’re still wearing my shirt, Cam”

Such an idiot I am… 

On top of that, he keeps laughing under his breath as I get dressed, when we leave the room and in the elevator to the ground floor. I should hate him, but today I’m more in love than ever. 

What am I going to do to him…


We have all arrived at Caesar’s Palace’s theatre and the festive air is everywhere. The Mob is at one end of the huge stage while the LMNTRIX has been scattered around the seats closest to the central area. Given the name of the hotel, it’s not surprising that this monstrously large place is called… ‘The Coliseum’. And I confess that just the thought of dancing on that gigantic stage, a shiver of nerves runs down my back from side to side. Camille’s right―being in the spotlight is something I can’t refuse. Because up there, when I move my body to the music, I improvise, jump, and accompany my partners is where I feel myself.

When I fall into an armchair next to Andie, however, my body protests the excesses of the night before. After the performance and almost without changing, all the winners head to the restaurant for dinner, making a fuss but not caring too much. We were overjoyed― the alcohol, the food, and the displays of affection were running. As for the need for intimacy, we left in canon―first Violet and Chad escaped, then Sean and Andie, and finally Camille and I. After all, this time we were the old-timers, and we could also understand that the newly paired could not resist the temptation.

I still remember my first time with Cam―badly thought out, y’all. That’s not exactly what I was talking about…

I remember that too, though. Perfectly.

“You have dark circles under your eyes,” my first real friend in the MSA observes with certain malice, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Busy night?”

I tilt my head and, with the most sarcastic smile, I can show, I return the ball.

“I know someone who also has dark circles under her eyes,” I repeat, biting. “Intense night?”

My smile turns into a triumphant laugh when I watch Andie turn red up to the tips of her ears, while she affectionately punches me in the shoulder. It’s wonderful to see that, despite the years, there are things that will never change between us. It’s a feeling of… security? Yeah, you could say that. Although now my euphoria and anticipation of what will happen a few minutes later consume the rest of my emotions.

At that moment Camille reaches my height, distracting me, and my eyes unintentionally turn to her left hand, where something shines and makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. Some might say we’re still very young, but what difference does it make? We’ll be together in Las Vegas, we’ll dance together and we can start a real life.

Shortly afterward the hotel director arrives with Alexxa Brava, the local diva. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand her Lady Gaga style and I don’t understand what unhealthy obsession the Santiago twins have with her. However, the two newcomers just explain a bit about what they want for the next show and what they think the audience will like more before saying goodbye without any further ado. Luckily and for our peace of mind, they assure us that the contracts are on their way.

But, when they leave, Cam and I look at each other―maybe it’s time. So, as we all get on stage and conversations about what we can do or prepare to begin to flow from mouth to mouth, I ask for colleagues’ attention for a second:

“Ok, guys. But, before we start, Camille and I have something to tell you…”, our gazes cross, and we release it at once. “We’re getting married!”

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