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Six years old. It's her first day of first grade and she's confident and cocky. Her mother, on the other hand, is a nervous wreck as she watches her daughter skip to her cubby, where another girl, one much more confident then her daughter, was putting her things away into the cubby beside hers.
The little girl with the big bright and confident brown eyes and long chocolate curls secured with a pink bow smiled at the taller girl, who seemed to be wishing she were anywhere but there.
"Hi," the smaller girl quips, her smile reaching her eyes. "I'm Camila," she extended her hand in the small space in between the two of them and the taller girl looked at the tan hand and brightly smiled back, placing her hand in Camila's.
"I'm Dinah."
Just like that - the two girls became inseparable. Best friends from the start. Dinah offered for Camila to come over to her house after school and Camila happily accepted, glad she made a best friend right off the bat, as her mother had been worried she wouldn't - due to her over confident stance, some children might have been too intimidated to form a friendship with her.
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The first time they met, it was like two waves crashing together for the first time - an instant connection.
Before she knows it, there's this fluttery feeling in her stomach that tickles at her knees and feet and has the ability to paint her ears red. It may have to do with the girl she caught sight of while walking into her new friends home, the one with the light brown hair and the bright emerald eyes and the shy smile, the one she later learns is the daughter of her mothers boyfriend. And since she's Camila, she'll be the one to introduce herself. She's not even seven yet, and she's just as outgoing as she will be in a decade.
"I'm Camila Cabello," she confidently quipped, flashing her pearly whites.
She's nine years old and she's never liked boys. A small part of her always gravitated towards girls. According to her sources, (best friend number one, Normani, and best friend number two, Ally) she wasn't supposed to like girls, and that she had to like boys, even though they were freakishly mutant-like, infested with the infamously known contagious cooties dispersed by 1. short hair, 2. mud, 3. bugs. It's funny, though, because the minute she places her hand in the space between their small bodies, she takes it, forgetting all about them.
"I'm Lauren," and she's glad she likes girls, because she really doesn't want to get infected.
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The first time Camila felt something towards Lauren was something iconic in her life - she was only nine. Much too young to have feelings for someone - let alone a girl three years older then she. It would be something she would never forget, because she practically saved her life.
Being the overly confident and cocky girl she was, Dinah dared her best friend to jump from the swing set in the Hansen/Jauregui's backyard into the pool. And Camila Cabello never backed down from a bet.
She gave the taller girl a huge confident grin and started swinging, trying to get as high as she could before jumping off the swing - however, instead of landing in the water as she had planned, she realized in horror that she would land on the asphalt a few feet from the pool. She shut her eyes tightly, anticipating the pain that would soon engulf her small prepubescent body.
Instead of feeling the cold hard ground, she encountered a warm skinny budding body before cold water engulfed her.
"Are you okay?!"
Camila hears as her head breaks through the waters surface and she inhales deeply, trying to make up for the water that congested her small lungs. She splashes around for a moment as she regains recollection of her surroundings and she blinks, wiping away the water on her face and pushing her wet hair from her eyes.
She sees two people in front of her. The first, Dinah; she stood by the edge of the pool in complete concern of her best friend, regretting her dare. The second, twelve year old Lauren, who was just as wet as she was, floating next to her with what was, in her opinion, the cutest worried expression she had ever seen, her ponytail sticking to the back of her neck as most strands stuck to her face.
Realizing she had just saved her life, Camila's heart fluttered inside her chest and she smiled sheepishly (Camila Cabello was never sheepish, what was this power this girl held over her?), mumbling a 'yes', to which the siblings sighed in relief.
She watched as Lauren climbed out of the pool and ducked her head back in the water to hide the blush that erupted on her cheeks.
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The first time they kissed, although it didn't really qualify as a kiss, Camila was thirteen - Lauren was sixteen. She came by to pick up Dinah after another one of their sleepovers, as she had just gotten her license and wanted any reason to drive - even if it meant picking up her little sister and chauffeuring her around. She stood in the front doorway as Dinah dropped her duffel bag on the ground then turned and ran back from where she came, saying she forgot something in Camila's room.
Camila was in her Christmas pajamas - as it was finally December and it was appropriate to wear such attire. She hardly thought she looked presentable. She wasn't short for her age nor was she exactly tall, but she reached to about Lauren's shoulders.
Lauren gave her a crooked charming grin and told her she liked her candy cane pajamas and Camila rolled her eyes and gave her a little shove but smiled anyways. Lauren glanced up above them and with a raised eyebrow and another grin; she looked at Camila and used her thumb to point upwards.
"Mistletoe."
Camila looked up and raised her own eyebrow before looking at the older girl. "Yeah, so?"
Lauren merely smiled and took a step towards her, hooking her thumb underneath her chin and leaning in, giving her a small peck on the lips just as they heard Dinah pounding down the stairs again and she stepped away from her. Leaving her stunned and speechless and with a big goofy smile as she shuts the door after they leave, leaning against it and reeling over the fact that she's just had her first kiss.
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The first time they danced together was during Mike and Milika's wedding.
Dancing is an art.
It takes grace, agility, quick paced steps in cavalier elegance. It must be swift and cutting, not too choppy because sporadic moves were usually sloppy. Moves should be as sharp as Lauren looks in that dress. Not that Camila had noticed or anything. Of course not.
Camila had noticed, however, how Lauren watched her fellow bridesmaids twirl and twirl under the luminescent strobe lights of the dance floor, away from the dining area where they'd been sitting. Her focus wanders towards her Mr. Jauregui, dipping his bride with a grin that captured the youth of his face as if he hadn't been a day over twenty-four.
Placing the eating utensils she'd been idly toying with onto the lacey cream tablecloth, she stands. After patting nonexistent dust off the lap of her dress, she encouragingly states, "Let's move."
It's not much of a demand, nor is it an invitation. It is more of a disclosed offer, and watching the way her eyes gleam under a flashing viridian luminescence is enough for Lauren to grasp her palm and follow her onto the platform, going along with it.
She listens as the beats reverberating along the walls begin to slow down, and this is the part where many of the men in tuxedos place one of their hands along the woman's waist and another interlocked with her own. But she wasn't one of the men. She was one of the women, and she was expected to lead, as the men were. Camila watches her hesitation in amusement, wondering if she's going to chicken out and trail back to the table.
"I don't bite," Camila prods, and Lauren steps towards her.
(the liar, she learns years later when her bottom lip is caught between her teeth)
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The first time they actually kissed was at a New Years Eve party thrown by Dinah and Camila is practically craving her.
This is (maybe probably most likely) due to her bursting hormones and lack of physical contact at age sixteen. Or something. Whatever.
(not that Lauren hadn't been going through the same dilemma - and for years, too)
Lauren kisses her when the clock strikes twelve on the first of January. There are fireworks outside the Jauregui's Miami home and in her stomach and below her ribcage, confetti in their hair, glitter on the lids of Camila's eyes, her arm around Lauren's neck, another raised high above her head with a noise clapper that rhythmically beat to her racing heart, and Lauren's around her waist. She tastes like candy canes and chocolate and goddamn, she's addicting. She really is.
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The first time Camila surprised Lauren would be something she will never forget. Camila's usual dark chocolate hair may be drenched and there may be an absence of all sorts of articles of clothing under her trench coat resulting in goose bump-coated skin and a lot of shivering, and she may have used up a quarter of her savings in tips at the diner for a train ride to Tampa for one night, but it's February 14th and this was an absolute must.
(especially knowing that her roommate is always away on Valentine's Day)
She doorbells about twenty times, the incessant chimes consistent with her freezing impatience. And when Lauren finally gets around to opening the door, she watches as her eyes light up and it reminds her of Christmas morning.
"Happy Valentines," Camila greets, and Lauren pulls her dripping wet body into a warm embrace that sweeps her off the ground. The way Camila's name escapes her lips makes the wait worth it.
She'd always liked rainstorms, anyways.
"Are you ready for your present?" her strawberry lips curve into a smirk as she slowly pulls the ties of the heavy coat free.
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fin.