BLACK CRESCENT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LAUREN

I was so damn sore.

Note to self: never teach anyone to ice skate ever again.

"Laur, you can't miss New Year's Eve too," my mother declared over the phone, and I stepped out of the room, closing the door behind me.

"Mom, I'm busy."

"With what? Your case is over. Congratulations by the way, since you didn't even bother to call home. This family has never missed a New Year's Eve together, and I'm not having it now."

"Mom—"

"Please," she pleaded softly, and I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.

Going meant I had to leave Camila, and I didn't want to, especially not at the start of the New Year. I had planned for us to be in bed, wrapped up in each other's arms when the countdown began, not at a party.

"Lauren daughter." all of sudden my father voice was in my ear.

"Seriously? She gave the phone to you? What am I dad, twelve?"

"Who is she?" he asked, and I froze.

"What?"

"You've never missed a family New Year's, not even when you had upcoming cases. There can only be one reason. So, who's the unlucky lady?"

I wanted to tell him, just not yet.

"Dad, please give the phone back to mom."

"Fine. Fine. But you can't keep her a secret forever, your mom will sniff her out."

"There is no lady. I'm taking my students out."

What the hell? Was that the best I could do?

"Really?" my mother asked, as she took back the phone. "That's great honey, bring them along, I would love to meet them all."

"Mom—" I whined.

"Make sure you let them know it's a masquerade ball."

And with that, she hung up.

"God damn it!" I shouted to the dead line.

"Is everything alright?" Camila asked, rubbing her eyes as she came into the living room.

"I somehow managed to invite the entire class to my mother's New Year's Eve party."

Moving into the kitchen, I searched for something to drink. I listened as her feet marched against the floor, rushing towards me.

"Tell me you're joking!"

"I wish!"

I poured the wine she brought.

"Why Lauren?"

"My mother wanted me to come home. I lied and told her that I would be spending time with my students. Next thing I know, she invited everyone. Which means that I need to write an email to the class, and we need a dress," I said as I poured her a glass.

She didn't say anything, and I could see her mind turning a thousand miles a minute.

"The place will be packed and everyone will be drinking. No one will be thinking about us..." I said, trying to reassure her and alleviate any anxiety that was surely building.

"Actually, I wasn't worried about that," she replied, seeming as shocked as I was by her own revelation. "I was just thinking that I would be meeting your parents, but your point is more important—"

"No. I like where your thoughts are going," I said, moving in closer to her.

She tried to look away from me, but I wouldn't let her.

"You're starting to think like my—"

"Don't say it. If you say it you will jinx it," she said, eyes wide.

"Girlfriend," I finished with a grin.

She sighed, dropping her head on my chest in mock distress. "LAUREN You said it."

"I did," I admitted as I held on to her, "and Camila I want to stay here longer, but we have to get back before everything closes. You need a dress, and a mask."

"A mask?" She looked up and frowned.

"The party is really more like a masquerade ball."

She rolled her eyes, and kissed my lips before breaking away from me and heading back to the bedroom. "Lauren I'm going to go pack. You should hurry up and write that email. But then again, no matter when you write it, we will all jump to your beck and call."

She was the only one I wanted to jump at my call.

Focus...I thought to myself, taking out my phone and opening my email. It was short and quick.

To The Twelve Disciples, tomorrow, at nine o'clock, you are to be at 193 Commonwealth Ave for my last act of kindness for the semester.

Professor Lauren Jauregui.

Note: It's a masquerade.

Camila read from the door of the bedroom. "Your last act of kindness?"

"Too much?"

"This thing we're doing—"

"Dating?" I teased.

"That. It makes emails like this seem non-threatening, you know that right?" She frowned.

"Believe me, once classes start again, Ms. Cabello, you will not be saying that. I can keep the two parts of me separate." I said it with a serious tone, trying my best to sound menacing, despite the fact that I couldn't help but touch her now.

My hands traced the side of her curves from her hips to her chest.

"How?" she asked.

I had finally figured out why it was that I didn't treat her any differently when we were in class.

"Because I want to make you the best damn lawyer I possibly can. Which means I will be pushing you at every turn. You'll want to take my head off, I might even hurt your feelings, but at the end of the day, if it helps you to become a better lawyer, then it's worth it to me."

"Thank you—"

"You don't have to thank me, just prepare yourself," I replied, picking her up and taking her into the bedroom.

"For class, or for—"

Kissing her, I unbuttoned her jeans.

We had both taken a hot bath and she crawled into bed before I could even stop her. The snow was coming down too hard for us to leave just yet any way. The moment I got into bed with her, I noticed how tightly she clung on to me. She was different. We were different. But we were also living in a bubble. What would happen when we got back to the real world, and class started? I was afraid that she would run away again.

Tomorrow would be our first test to see if we could actually do this. Could we really be together? I was well aware of the consequences, but when I weighed them against the alternative of letting her go, the risks far outweighed a life without her.

Reaching for my phone, I texted Taylor.

"Camila is going to need a dress for the New Year's ball."

I didn't even have time to put down the phone before she replied.

"You're bringing your student/girlfriend? Welcome to the dark side, Sis."

"I invited all of my students, and who said she was my girlfriend?"

She was, but Taylor, with her big mouth, didn't need to know that.

"So you always help your students shop for dresses when they've been invited to our parents' party? Is that like a special side gig professors do?"

"Taylor, can you help us or not?"

"Fine. But first, I get to meet her."

"No."

Camila was not going to go for that.

"So how do you expect me to get her a dress if I don't even know what she looks like? What size she is, or even what styles she likes?"