Faking It | Wattys 2022

Chapter 9

"Kissing,"

Camila leaned forward, dangerously close to the raven-haired woman's face. "Oh, baby. You should be begging for me to kiss you."

-

She tossed and turned in her bed, unable to stop thinking about Camila's cocky remarks that kept telling her she had just made the worst decision of her life. After the younger woman reassured her that affection would only happen when they were in the public eye, many of her worries were soothed.

She didn't want to be putting her lips on such a nasty woman unless it was absolutely necessary.

After the downfall of her relationship with Nick, she had sworn off love. The cruel reality of realizing maybe she wasn't meant to have a fairytale the moment she saw the 'THANKS FOR COMING TO MIAMI' sign on the highway.

Instead of sleeping, she sat herself down at her desk, trying to convince herself that she was doing this for the greater good. To help Camila get her abusive father off of her back and to be in a better place financially.

She was thankful Camila didn't bother interrogating her as to why she changed her mind, Lauren knew that if the question arose, she would have lost it right then and there.

Embarrassingly enough, she already stooped to a low level when she agreed to sign the contract, and her reasoning as to why was almost ten times more embarrassing.

Lauren spent most of her early morning reading over homework assignments and grading a few leftover quizzes that students with excused absences were able to take, only putting her red ballpoint pen down when the sun seeped through her thin curtains.

It was nearing the afternoon and she typically would attend her yoga session, but after how tight expenses had run last month, she decided she'd have to drop Ally and her surprisingly relaxing classes.

So, she settled on stretching out her long limbs in the living room behind the couch, humming a quiet song. Camila had insisted she began packing her valuable things, not giving the professor an exact time as to when she would come to pick her up—only that she was indeed coming back.

Figuring that since her day was so empty, she got a headstart on packing when an unknown number began calling her.

"Hello?" She said hesitantly once she answered it.

"Hi, is this Dr. Jauregui?"

"Yes, that's me," Lauren straightened her posture. "How can I help you?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Camila has been—"  she heard another voice in the background telling the woman to shut up. "I'm her assistant, Gwen. I was just calling to let you know that the money has been transferred into your bank account and to wish you the best of luck on your research studies."

Research studies? What the fuck?

"Thank you, um, Gwen," the professor furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Tell Camila I send my thanks also,"

"Oh, she just left out, but I'm sure she'd be glad to get a phone call from you. Have a nice day."

The line went dead before Lauren could reciprocate a polite farewell. Her fingers had a mind of their own as she opened up her banking app once more, her heart rate accelerating when she sees the number of zeros in her account.

But the numbers were nothing but a reminder that she had desperately sought out the help of Boston's biggest asshole and succumbed to her mischievous ways of getting whatever the hell she wanted. Deciding that she could send the money to Windfield after her shower, she practically sprinted to her bedroom to gather her stuff.