Despite the fact that she's obviously crazy, James actually like Camille. She spends half her time pretending to be someone else, but she's still one of the most genuine people James has met; what she feels, she feels strongly and bravely, without question. She's also kind and supportive, a rarity in Hollywood. And, James thinks, beautiful, in her own way.
They've been friends since Camille offered to help him with his acting career. They compliment each other. James needs an break from the band's testosterone and Camille likes to escape the estrogen-fest of the Palm Woods' girls.
Currently, Camille is sitting across the counter from James in apartment 2J.
Kendall, Carlos and Logan had rushed out of the apartment, shouting about going somewhere to do something. Something about cheesecake, James thinks, or possibly pancakes. He hadn't been listening, being too busy pretending to be asleep so they wouldn't drag him along. He'd waited until they were safely gone and then called Camille.
James listens absentmindedly to the story Camille's telling as he makes lunch. She has an interesting voice, nasally, imperfect. It fascinates James; he spends so much time trying to be flawless, but Camille seems not even to notice her deficiencies, her nose, her voice, her occasionally frightening intensity. And the funny thing is, the more time James spends with her, the less he too notices her flaws. Certainly, they don't seem like flaws anymore, quirks maybe, just the little things that make Camille Camille.
Except for one thing, one tiny, inconsequential, glaringly obvious, horrible failing: Camille is impossibly fixated on Logan.
James flips the grilled cheese sandwich he's making and tells himself he doesn't care if she likes Logan. He doesn't care, he's just a little worried about her. He has a friendly concern; Logan won't ever feel the same way, Camille's going to end up getting hurt.
Camille's finished her story and idly asks some question about Logan. James grits his teeth and avoids answering by focusing completely on putting the finished sandwiches on plates. The indifferent mantra James has been repeating in the back of his mind is beginning to ring very hollow.
He's turning from the counter to face Camille, two plates in hand, when it happens. James has an epiphany. Spreading out behind Camille, like light shining through glass to form a rainbow, James can see her thousand possible futures.
She's a spectrum of human motion. She's happy, euphoric, elated. She's sad, melancholy, bitter, bitter, bitter. She's blissful, successful, defeated, destroyed.
James knows somehow what every facial tick, every variation in posture, every hair style and every detail means; somehow he knows the story of every Camille. That one just found out she's pregnant, that one's engaged. Some finally won over Logan; some left him, some stayed, some figured out what was wrong and some never did. Some had their dreams come true and others realized their dreams were meaningless, others found new dreams; some give up and some keep fighting.
And this one, sitting at the counter, nearest to the real Camille, she's sitting at the counter in her home, playing with her ring, waiting while her husband makes her lunch.
James sees the future spreading before him. He knows he can affect which of these ephemeral futures become realities; he can even be a part of some of them. All it takes to make the future is a few tiny decisions adding up over time.
James blinks and all the possibilities resolve once again into the one, present Camille. He puts down the plates and makes his decision.
"Camille," he says, "there is something you should probably know about Logan."
It's hard at first; she's angry and embarrassed, she blames him. But James knows he made the right decision; he cares about her and she needed to be told.
It's hard at first, but, in a few years, Camille knows he made the right decision too.