Just Your Luck (Lauren/You)

Chapter 7

The doors open for you, then close, and you allow your eyes to adjust from being out in the sunlight.

"Hi Nancy!" Camila shouts at a woman behind the front desk, who looks up from her computer to smile and wave back.

Looking around, it still appears to be a normal, modern, office type building. And it's cold, air conditioning on full blast, rather than the fiery depths of hell that you were wholeheartedly expecting. You shiver, crossing your arms in an attempt to conserve heat, and see Lauren turn her head to look at you as you wait for the elevator.

"Chilly?" She asks with a smirk.

"No," you lie.

"You have goosebumps, idiot," Camila says, as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. Lauren tuts at you.

"Have you forgotten our no lying rule so soon?" Lauren teases, and you step into the elevator.

"No, no, I have not," you answer.

"So your edited response to my original question would be..." Lauren trails off, tilting her head to the side.

"Okay, god, yes, I'm cold," you laugh, as Camila hits the fifth floor button.

"Now, was that so hard to admit?" Lauren asks, shrugging her black leather jacket off and wrapping onto your shoulders. "And I forgot to tell you earlier, but you're wearing one of my shirts," her red lips curl upwards. So that's why you didn't recognize the shirt as Camila's when you pulled it out of the drawer this morning.

"You look cute in my clothes," she whispered.

Despite the chill that ran up your spine, you're not that cold anymore.

"Hey, Laur, could you maybe not fuck with (Y/N) while I'm within a two foot radius? Thanks," Camila jokes with a fakely snide smile.

"It wasn't fucking, per say, my dearest Camz, I was simply stating factual information," Lauren shoots back, matter of factly, in her British accent. You stifle a giggle with your hand and Lauren bites her lips to do the same. She looks over at you, her eyes gleaming, and her hand finds yours.

"You disgust me," Camila says, studying the scene before her with a fond smirk, shaking her head.

"You started this," you tell Camila as the elevator comes to a stop.

"Not really, if I remember correctly, this whole incident was a matter of your god awful driving skills," Camila replies, stepping out of the elevator. You follow her around a few corners, arguing about your driving abilities as you go. You're in the middle of defending your parallel parking when she stops at a red door at the end of a hallway. You hit the brakes on your conversation to nervously ask

"This is it?"

"Yup," Camila pops. "Are you ready?"

You bite your lip, but nod, your heart beating rapidly. Lauren's hand is still in yours, and you feel her thumb start to rub against your hand. You're eternally grateful for the small act, but the added contact only causes your heart rate to go from fast to faster. Camila opened the door, and you squeeze Lauren's hand. She squeezes back.

You find yourself in a conference room, a giant rectangle table and wheeling chairs taking up nearly the whole room. A blonde woman and a short man in a grey business suit are sitting at the far end, looking over paper work. The woman looks up and smiles when she sees that the three of you have entered, getting out of her chair and walking over to where you're all standing.

"Camila! Lauren! Glad you're here, I'm assuming this is the friend you told me about?" The woman onces you over and waits for Camila to respond.

"Yeah, Candece, this is (Y/N), she's been my best friend since we were in kindergarden," Camila says, smiling reassuringly at you.