Little Shit

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Lauren stared blankly at the dry wall a foot across from her. A wireless headset restricted the volume of her hair while sounds of static settled into her ears. She stood next to a slidable window mentally rambling to herself.

Lauren didn’t quite know why she was awake before sunrise on a Saturday, or why she was at a Jack-in-a-Box of all places, but she did vaguely remember promising her brother something last night. Honestly, she was only 63% in tune with anything at the moment, so she didn’t know how Chris managed to blackmail her into this.

A beeping suddenly rang in her ear, snapping her out of an empty daze. Glancing up to the little TV overhead, the gears in her brain abruptly jerked. It was her first cognitive thought of the day. Her eyes met a red car and a familiar face propping out its window.

“Camila?” Lauren blurted, forgetting her scripted line.

“Yeah, hey can I get 10-piece chicken nuggets?” the driver said quickly, failing to acknowledge her girlfriend on the other side.

Lauren furrowed her brows, “But it’s 6 a.m.”

“Laur, don’t deny the customer,” her co-worker warned as he restocked the packets of sauces right next to her.

The black-haired girl glared at him incredulously. “I didn’t even do-”

“Brad, how much?” Camila spoke into the microphone impatiently.

The curly haired boy stopped shuffling the mini containers in his hands and looked up at the live footage on the TV. Lauren’s previous irritation swapped with confusion.

“I’m not Brad,“ she argued.

Camila’s eyes widened as she realized the femininity in the voice speaking. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I thought you were.”

“Yes, because I sound like a little British boy,” she deadpanned.

Brad shot Lauren a disapproving look. "Oi, I’m older than you.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “By a year, Simpson. Get over yourself.”

“I’m taller, too.”

Camila leaned her head farther out her car window. “Wait, so who am I talking to?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lauren smirked into the mic, “Come get your nuggets.”

Camila drove up to the window. The glass separating her from greying green eyes swiftly glided to the left. Camila noticed a faint dark purple shading under the older girl’s eyes. Despite the evident fatigue, Lauren still managed that unwavering smile that made Camila’s heart flutter in all different directions.

“Why are you-”

Brad pushed passed Lauren to stick his head out the window. “Her brother is a worthless loser that refuses to come to work.”

Lauren nudged the Brit back to the side. “What he said.”

Camila knit her eyebrows. “So you’re just-”

A pale hand grasping a paper bag stuck halfway out the window, cutting her off.

Camila raised her eyebrows, “Oh right.”

The younger one fumbled for her wallet, but her girlfriend’s voice interrupted.

“Camz, don’t worry about it.”

The driver froze to at Lauren. “What?”

“I got it covered. Drive along.” Lauren smiled warmly.

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