BLACK CRESCENT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LAUREN

"Run Sis, run as fast as you can," Taylor said to me, as she came out of our parents' home in her dark blue, midnight-evening gown. Her stomach protruded like a beach ball under a blanket. Zayn came up beside her, and helped her down the stairs. He was dressed in his best suit, the one I had bought for him last Christmas. (Lauren you motherfookingasshole 😂 )

"Didn't the party just start?" I asked, amused as they tried to make their escape.

She shook her head at me, messing up her blonde curls. "I just couldn't deal with it anymore, Lauren. When mom brought out the pianist, I had to get out of there."

I nodded. These events took a lot out Taylor. She—well, we— both felt like as though we were on display for all of the elite members of Boston to ogle at. However, because of my profession, and my frequent dealings with the media and general public, I was better at faking my interest than she was.

"You used your pregnancy, didn't you?"

She grinned, but bent over quickly as another couple walked around us, and into the house.

"Hey, this belly is good for something other than hiding my toes," she winked, grabbing on to Zayn's hand.

How he managed put up with her, I would never know.

"Sorry, to leave you alone with them," Zayn said, though I wasn't sure he was as sorry as he claimed to be.

"It's fine, I know where they hide the good stuff."

"I miss drinking," Taylor pouted.

"Okay, time to go home," Zayn said, leading her down the stairs.

For a brief moment, I wished that Camila was with me, but I pushed that thought out of my mind, as I headed inside. Sure enough, it was just as bad as Taylor had made it sound.

It always felt as though I had jumped back into the 1920s for my parents' parties. The white marble floors, the grand chandelier, and the crystal glasses. Everyone here was a somebody, and they dressed to prove it. Thousand dollar suits and gowns, Rolexes on the wrist of every man in sight, and diamonds and pearls adorning the necks, ears, wrists and hands of every woman present. This was the JAUREGUI Family Party.

"Thank you," I said directly to the server's face, as he handed me a glass. He nodded, somewhat dazed.

Happens every time.

They usually spent the entire night being waved off and ignored by all attending patrons. Whenever someone actually said something to them, it shocked them out of their minds, like I had just ripped off their invisible cloak.

"Lauren!" my mother called out to me.

She was dressed in a red floor-length gown, and had the same green eyes as mine, with light, Bronde hair, that stopped at her shoulders. She kissed my cheeks and smiled. "I'm so happy you're here. Did you manage to see Taylor? She just left."

"Yes," I said with a smile, "I caught her on her way out. You look beautiful."

"Thank you, honey."

She wiped her lipstick off my cheek.

"She's marked you too, I see," my father said, as he came up behind her. "Glad you could make it, Daughter."

"I had an option?" I replied, earning myself a stern look from my mother.

My father little shorter than me, with salt and paper hair, and brown eyes. He used to hate parties like this one, until he retired. He was the former district attorney, before becoming a judge, and now, he was the man who threw parties, to talk about his past glory days. I felt bad for him sometimes.

"Come with me, I have someone I want you to meet," my mother said as she pulled me into the dining room where the rest of her guests were.

"Mom, slow down or you're going to trip over your dress."

Why was she such in a hurry?

She hushed me, and led me over to the bar where a pretty elegant brunette with hazel eyes, wearing all black, stood.

"Cindy, this is my beautiful Daughter, Lauren. Lauren, this is Cindy Kimberly. Her mother and I were pledge sisters in college. They just recently, moved to Boston." She introduced us with the widest cat-like grin on her face. "Oh, I'll be right back, you father is calling me," she said, as she beat a hasty retreat.

"Wow, she is not subtle at all," I whispered to myself.

I should have known.

Why didn't I listen to Taylor? Why didn't I run when I had the chance?

The last time my mother had set me up with a woman, I ended up marrying her. And just look at how well that worked out!

"She's actually much better than my mother who practically dragged me here by my hair," Cindy laughed.

There was no denying that she was very beautiful. Some may even say she looks like vogue model. But she wasn't the one I wanted. (In real life Lauren thirsted over Cindy so much)

"I'm sorry about this, I thought I had made it clear to her that I wasn't available."

Obviously we needed to have the I-don't-need-my-mother-to-pick-out-dates-for-me conversation again.

"Oh, you're seeing someone?"

She looked disappointed. Didn't she just claim that she was dragged here almost against her will?

"No," I said, then I reconsidered, "Yes— It's very complicated right now."

"It seems like it. She must be one Unique girl to catch the Lauren Jauregui."

"It seems like someone knew more about this set up than she let on."

She shrugged. "You can't blame a girl for trying right? I saw you in the Time magazine article. When my mother talked about this party, I figured why not. So, tell me, how complicated is complicated?"

"I'm not sure, but it's worth sticking out."

She opened her purse and handed me her card— Dr. Cindy Kimberly, it read.

"If ever you're bored, or in need of a physical, call me." She walked off smoothly. (when will a girl do this to me?)

She was good. Had I met her two months ago, this conversation may have gone a lot differently.

Turning to the bartender, I handed him her card. He raised an eyebrow at me, but took it anyway.

"Bourbon," I said to him, and he poured me a glass.

Downing it, I moved through the crowd, painfully aware that my mother was very likely somewhere searching for me. Making my way up the stairs, I headed towards my old bedroom.

Resting on the bed, I pulled out my phone and saw that there was not one, but two missed calls from Camila.

"Pick up," I whispered, hitting redial.

"Didn't you listen to my message?" she answered.

"You left a message?" I looked at my screen and saw the little voicemail icon in the corner, "No, I just called you back."

"I called you by mistake, but I didn't want you to get the wrong idea, so I called again and left a message."

"Thank you?" I laughed.

"You were supposed to listen to your voicemail," she chided.

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"Well yeah, so I'll just hang up—"

"What are you doing right now?"

"It's not sexy."

"Tell me anyway," I grinned.

"I'm trying to get a cigarette burn out of my couch."

"You're right, that was not sexy. Since when did you smoke?"

"I don't! My sister is just... she's just going through a phase."

"Is she alright?"

She sighed. "Lauren, what are you doing?"

"I'm talking to you—"

"You're a straight-laced, respectable teacher, and a hot-shot lawyer. You can have anyone you want—"

"You're right," I told her. "In fact, no less than ten minutes ago, a pretty doctor was hitting on me."

"Well aren't you Ms. Lucky." She was annoyed, I could hear it in her voice.

"But I turned her down, because I meant what I said. I'm not going to make it if I spend the semester, let alone the full academic year, trying to avoid you, or deny the fact I want to be with you. I tried, and it drove me crazy."

She was silent.

"If I wasn't your professor, and I had called you on the day after our week was over, and asked you out on a date, would you have gone out with me?"

"Yes," she said whispered, "but it's more complicated than that."

"So what?"

More silence.

"So I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry."

And just like that, she was gone.

If that was her answer, fine.

Getting up, I head back downstairs. My mother called me over in the corner of the room, but instead, I simply waved her away before heading towards the window.

"It seems like things just got a lot less complicated," I whispered into Cindy's ear with my hand on her back.

She grinned, and I ignored the little voice in my head. The voice of reason. The voice of warning.

CAMILA

Part of me wanted to call her back, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I came back to Boston and entered law school with one goal in mind, and since I met her, I found that I had allowed myself to be distracted, and I had lost sight of my goal.

No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't put everything on the line for a girl I barely knew. I needed to get back on track, I needed to stop daydreaming and get back to reality. My family needed me, and that superseded all else. It also meant I was going to have to deal with Sofia.

She should be trying to sneak back in any time now.

"Shit," I heard sofia hiss, as she stubbed her toes against the table.

"Would you like some ice for that?" I asked her, turning on the light.

"Jesus Christ!" she jumped back, grabbing her chest in fright.

She was a mess, her skirt was on backwards, her make-up was streaked and ruined, and her hair was a complete mess.

"That grounding thing wasn't serious, right?" she asked as she went into the kitchen, and grabbed herself a box of cereal.

"I un-enrolled you from school," I told her.

"Seriously? Right on!" She jumped onto the couch in front of me.

I stared at her for a moment, then I took a deep breath before I reached for the ticket on the coffee table.

"Where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere. You're going back to Maryland," I told her. "I've already called Grams."

"What?"

"You can't stay here—"

"You're kicking me out? Are you fucking serious right now?! Just because I went out a couple times—"

"I'm not kicking you out Sofia, you can come back whenever you want, you just can't live here."

She looked like I had just stabbed her. "I don't... I don't understand? Is because of that girl? 'Cause I mean, I don't mind if she comes over—"

"There is no girl."

"Then why are you shipping me off?!" she demanded.

"Because you're drowning here Sofia!" I yelled getting up. "It was wrong of me to allow you to come here. It was wrong, and selfish, and I'm so sorry. You can't stay, because if you do, you will destroy yourself. This house, this city, it's blackening your rainbow. You don't laugh, you shake at night. You can't stand to be here, and that's okay. So go home Sofia."

She glared at me through her tears, and it reminded me of when I came back to get her the first time.

"We don't leave each other," she said.

"I'm not leaving you Sofia. I'm going to finish law school, I'm going to get dad out, and then, I'm coming home. I promise I'll work my ass off, but I can only do that if I know that you're okay, and you were okay back home."

Her lips shook, and she broke down as she crawled into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "I thought— I thought I could do it—"

"You are the most beautiful, funny, creative, intelligent little sister a girl could have. You mean the world to me, and so much more. You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I'm sorry for not doing this sooner," I whispered to her.

Starting tomorrow, everything was going to change. I'd always been at the top of my class, I'd always worked for everything I ever wanted. And now, I was going to work ten times harder. I was going to do whatever it took, because I couldn't afford to lose. I couldn't afford to get sidetracked anymore.

"You going to cross over to the dark side, aren't you?" she half joked, and I wished I could tell her I wasn't. "You aren't like mom, you know. I'm sorry for what I said before."

"Sofi it's fine. Just go pack, alright?"

She nodded and I headed into our mother's office. It was the only place I hadn't dared to touch, or even enter. It was like her shrine, and going in made me feel uneasy, but I needed to stop holding back.

Lauren had said I should use anything I could to my advantage. My mother was an advantage. I hated using her to get ahead, it made me feel dirty, but I know that that was how I got my scholarship in the first place. When I went in for my interview the dean spent the first five minutes talking about how great my mother was, and how she was one of the building blocks on which Harvard was built.

My mother had a folder for every person who owed her favor, she was just that type of woman; everything came at a price. Now that she was dead, I guessed that everything, just like this house, had passed on to me.

So I was going to call in a favor.

In the back of my mind, I heard the small voice telling me not to do it. Getting any more involved with my mother would be like opening Pandora's Box, but I made the call anyway.

"Hi, my name is Camila Cabello, daughter of Penelope Cabello..."