FRIDAY NIGHT. The big night. Not big, per se, because Camila's been to concerts stacked on concerts stacked on recitals. It's only big because somewhere in the crowd, among her parents, Elle, Roma, and Jeremy, there's Laurent.
When she's onstage, Camila takes note of her surroundings more than her piece. It's a strange thing. It doesn't mean she doesn't invest her emotions into her performance, it's so rehearsed that she can take the time to sift through the audience—with her peripheral of course.
So as she's through her second movement, she scans the wings.
Too dark to make out any faces, Camila returns to her piano. In short, she loves it. The big grand, the slightly less-than-new-keys, and the fact that she gets her picture on the programme. Also, she gets to wear a killer dress—albeit sometimes sponsored—and get her makeup done.
After she's finished both her sets, the rest of the performers join her in bowing and she's given bouquets of flowers. The routine. And as the rest of the attendees file out to the foyer, she stays behind on the stage as her friends and family approach.
"Amlan baby, we'll be outside. You can spend the night with your friends but we need to get back now. Your dad doesn't trust the babysitter," her mom tells her first.
"Bye mom. Love you," she replies, laughs, and hugs her.
With her heart still running its pace in her chest, Camila can't stop smiling, especially as her eyes land on Laurent. Laurent, wearing a blue suit—still lazily done and loose around the tie—but as striking as always, with his hair styled.
"Not bad," he says. "Though it was a struggle to get through the entire concert. Oh here, I've got something for you."
It's a small bouquet of pale red carnations, small enough so that Camila doesn't need to set down the ones straining in her arm.
"I think pale red means good job," Laurent adds.
The flowers are small, delicate even, and they smell like his cologne. Camila wonders how much of his appearance tonight is credited to Elle or Jeremy.
"Thank you." And she means it. At least she tried to convey how much she was feeling at the moment in two words.
Laurent cocks an eyebrow, seeing it strange that she's not buzzing with words.
"Bullshit. He doesn't know what any of it means, he just picked it up on the way," Jeremy says.
"Are you gonna get off that stage now? My neck's starting to hurt," Elle pipes up, though she only said that because she wants to hug Camila when she gets down.
So she sets down the flowers—all except the one she was just gifted—to make her way down, Laurent holding one hand in support, and Roma making sure her dress doesn't flash all of them. Then, they become a giant group of hugs, chattering, surrounded by the scent of cologne, perfume, and flowers.
"You literally made the show," Roma says and squeezes her hand.
"Okay, let's all bunk at my house. Cam, I've got your stuff in my car so we're ready to go," Elle says, quick to leave.
Even with all her friends around, she can't stop looking at Laurent and wanting some more time with him.