"I don't want to leave," Dinah whined as she zipped her last suitcase.
"If we don't leave we don't get to go to live shows," Ally reminded her.
"Yeah, but this place is so dope. I wish I could live here all the time," Dinah argued.
"Just think, we get to leave the judges' house and go back to the comfort of our tiny hotel rooms," I teased.
"Good," Camila laughed. "I need a break from all of you."
"I second that," Normani agreed.
We carried our bags out to the shuttle that was waiting outside the house and placed them in the trunk before going back in to make sure we hadn't left anything.
"I don't get a hug before you leave?" Keaton asked as soon as we walked through the door.
"We're going to the same place, Keats," I reminded him as he wrapped me up in his arms anyway.
"But I'll miss you while we're apart," he whined.
I forced a smile and walked to my room, checking it one last time to make sure I had all my belongings. I heard the familiar sound of Camila's tiny footsteps behind me as she entered trough the doorway.
"You forgot something," she chirped.
"What? I thought I got everything," I argued.
"You did, except you're missing one thing," she said matter-of-factly as she jumped onto the bed, swinging her legs back and forth in front of her.
"And what's that?" I asked knowingly, catching on to her charades.
"Me!" she squeaked, placing her hands under her chin and cocking her head to the side, a goofy grin plastered on her face.
I rolled my eyes and walked over to her, holding out my hand for her to take so we could get back to the shuttle.
"I could never forget you," I told her.
She smiled, taking my hand in her own but not moving from her position on the edge of the bed.
"Are you coming?" I laughed, tugging on her arm.
"I don't feel like walking. I think you might have to carry me," she said, looking up at me with her big brown eyes.
"If it means we get to leave, then sure," I agreed.
I released her hand and crouched down in front of her so that she could hop on my back. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and then gripped my waist with her legs, leaning forward so that her lips were hovering above my ear.
"Why do you want to leave so bad?" she asked, resting her chin on my shoulder as I stood, putting both my hands under her thighs to ensure that I had a good grip on her.
"I want a room to myself again," I answered.
"Who says you'll get it to yourself?" she whispered deviously, her voice cracking and causing my heart to flutter in my chest.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop flirting with me before you finally listen?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes and pushing the front door open with my foot.
"I'm not flirting with you. It's just your perception," she countered. "You have a boyfriend, remember? I know better."
I froze at the word "boyfriend" and let go of her legs, allowing her to slide down off my back. The word stung like a jolt of electricity. It felt like pinpricks in my skin and tasted like blood in my mouth. The way she said it was so casual, but I could sense a hidden meaning behind it. It was too casual. Dull. Hurt.
"I think that we should talk about what happened in the kitchen," I said seriously. "Not now. I just...we need to clear things up."
"There's nothing to clear up. You said it yourself, we got into an argument and we both zoned out in the heat of the moment. Nothing happened so there's nothing to clear up," she assured me. "You're with Keaton and I'm hopelessly in love with someone who will never love me back. That's the way it is, that's the way it stays."
"You never told me who exactly you're in love with," I reminded her.
"It doesn't matter. It's hopeless. It was probably just a crush anyway," she dismissed, turning on her heels and walking to the shuttle.
I sighed to myself and followed behind her. She was right. I was with Keaton because I liked him. Whatever happened in the kitchen was just a misunderstanding. Neither of us could recall what exactly had happened. Or maybe we just didn't want to.
...
We all fell back into our normal routines once we arrived back at the hotel. A week passed and everything went as usual; we woke up, rehearsed for our first live show, then ate dinner and went back to our rooms for a good night's sleep. Keaton and I saw each other on a daily basis but nothing progressed between us. We liked each other, no doubt, I just worried that things were going a little slower than necessary. Neither Camila or myself brought up the kitchen incident again but anytime I wasn't with Keaton, I was with her, watching movies or staying up entirely too late to talk about nothing and everything all at the same time. We had a beautiful friendship, and it felt right. Everything was pretty much back to the way it was before the judges' house.
On the day of the first live show my alarm woke me up at precisely 10 A.M. We didn't have a scheduled rehearsal, but the girls and I had all planned to gather in Ally's room for one final sound check before we had to get ready for the show. I threw on a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt, not really worrying too much about impressing the other girls at that point. I walked sluggishly down the hall, my bare feet scraping the carpet as I failed to pick them up off the ground. I stopped in front of Ally's room and knocked quietly on the door. She let me inside only a few seconds later.
"Congratulations, you're the first to arrive. Want some coffee?" she offered.
"Sure," I mumbled, her cheery attitude proving to be too much for my tired brain.
She brought me a cup full of the bitter liquid and I took a sip, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth slide down the back of my throat.
"You seem tired," Ally observed.
"I just woke up," I shrugged.
"No," she corrected, sitting her coffee on the table in front of her and crossing her legs, "I mean you look tired. Like something is eating away at the back of your mind and it's exhausting you."
"Bingo," I chuckled, taking another sip of my coffee.
"Do you want to talk about it? It's safe with me, whatever it is," she promised.
"It's just...I don't know," I started, shifting my weight so I was facing her. "I have this friend..."
"Oh boy," she laughed. "Tell me about this 'friend' of yours."
"I have this friend," I repeated. "This friend has a boyfriend. He's really cute and sweet and exactly her type, but she was more attracted to him before they got together and now she doesn't know what to do."
"Why isn't she attracted to him anymore?" she asked, playing along with my game.
"She doesn't know. It's like all the life in him has been sucked out and put in someone else. All of the things that she loves about him don't matter because there's someone else out there who has so much more to offer, but she can't find that other person," I explained.
"So you just don't feel like he's the one?" she continued.
"Not me, my friend," I corrected, feeling more comfortable talking about myself in the third person.
"Well, your friend isn't going to find love if she's looking," Ally told me.
"That's exactly the point," I said, finally giving up on the charade. "I don't have to look. I can feel them near me, but I don't know who it is."
"You'll know eventually. Love always works itself out in the strangest ways, but it works out just the same. Don't look for love, but look for signs," she instructed.
All conversation ceased upon hearing a quiet knock on the door. Ally stood to answer it while I remained glued to the couch. Camila entered the room seconds later, finding a seat next to me.
"I feel like I interrupted something," she admitted, noticing the tension lingering in the air from the conversation that took place prior to her entry.
"We were just talking about love," Ally told her. "It was nothing."
"What about love?" Camila asked interestedly. "I love love."
"Lauren has a friend who likes two different people but doesn't know who to choose," Ally answered.
"Don't choose either," Camila said quickly. "If they have to choose between the two, they probably don't love either of them as much as they should, and that's not fair to anyone."
"But what if they're already dating one of the people?" I pressed.
"Leave them. Tell her to be with who her heart says to be with, but don't make the other person suffer while they try to decide," she said.
"And what if their heart doesn't know?" I continued, my voice hushed.
"The heart always knows. The heart knows more than the mind," she finished, being cut short by Dinah and Normani's entrance into the room.
They sat down and we immediately got to work, rehearsing the song as best as we could without the instruments. We sang until we were afraid we would lose our voices and then everyone made themselves comfortable while Ally flipped through channels on her TV.
"So Lauren, how are you and Keaton?" Normani asked me.
"Fine," I answered simply.
"Just fine? That's it?" Dinah prompted, hoping for a better reaction.
"Yeah, we're fine. I haven't talked to him yet today," I informed them.
"You're not fine," Camila argued. "I mean, you are, but you're not."
"Care to elaborate?" I insisted, raising my eyebrow at her words.
"You're happy and you like each other, everyone knows that. You get along and you don't have any problems, but that's not how it's supposed to be. Love is supposed to make you feel things. You're supposed to go from hating each other to tearing each other's clothes off within a matter of seconds and...you don't do that. When you talk about him, you don't speak with passion in your tone. You're bored, and that's not fine," she explained.
I looked around the room at the other girls. Each of them were staring at Camila in awe while her eyes remained fixed on the television. I thought about her words carefully. Who wants to have problems in a relationship? Relationships are supposed to be fun and happy, not dramatic. Still, as much as I wanted to disagree with her, I couldn't. How could Keaton and I ever grow as a couple if we didn't hit obstacles here and there? Sure, it had only been a few days, but something inside me told me that it didn't matter how long I waited- Keaton was a crush and nothing more. It wasn't going to last, so why the hell was I wasting my time when I had so many other things to be focused on?
"I'll be right back," I announced, getting off the couch and leaving the room before anyone could protest.
I stormed down the hall and knocked on the boys' door, pushing it open when Drew twisted the handle.
"I need to talk to Keaton," I insisted.
"He's still aslee-"
"Now," I demanded, cutting him off.
Drew shut the door and I stood outside, my heart pounding in my chest. Eventually Keaton came outside, his hair a mess and the sleep still in his eyes. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I can't do this," I blurted out. "I really like you Keaton, I do, but you and I both know that this isn't going anywhere. I'm stressed enough as it is and being in a relationship with you just isn't something I can handle."
"I agree," he said.
"I know you're probably going to hate me but...wait," I paused, "you agree?"
"Yeah. I like you a lot and I think you're absolutely beautiful, but now that the live shows are starting and the competition is heating up I think we need to focus on what's important here."
I sighed in relief and stepped forward to hug him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Can we still be friends?" I whispered in his ear.
I felt him nod against my shoulder and pulled away. His eyes seemed genuine, like he really truly wanted to remain close, and I was glad. He was the first friend I made and I didn't want to let him go over something so stupid.
"Who's the other person?" he asked.
"What...what are you talking about?" I stammered.
"You like someone else. I can tell. You weren't giving me all of you. Who else do you like?" he repeated.
"I...I don't know," I choked out.
"You don't know? I think you do. I think you're just in denial," he argued.
"I have to get back to rehearsal," I snapped, turning on my heels and walking back down the hallway.
...
"So you just...dumped him?" Dinah asked me.
We were all standing in a circle backstage before the first live show, discussing the events of earlier in the day.
"Not really. He agreed. Normally I would call bullshit on something like that, but I could tell he meant it," I told all of them. "But that's not important. We have to focus on our performance. Enough about me."
All of the girls nodded and split up in different directions, praying or warming up to calm their nerves. Camila scooted closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Are you sure you're okay? You acted like you really liked him," she pointed out.
"I did. It's just, after what you said earlier, I got to thinking and-"
"Am I the reason you broke up with him? Because of what I said?" she asked frantically.
"No...I mean, yes...it's not your fault if that's what you're asking. I just didn't realize that I didn't have strong feelings for him until you said that," I assured her.
She nodded but bit her bottom lip nervously and I mentally slapped myself for my careless word choice.
"Girls," I heard from behind me.
I whipped around to see Simon standing there, a clipboard and notepad in hand.
"We've just discovered that your current name, Lylas, can't be used for legal reasons. You need to pick a new name. Now," he told us.
"What about like, Girl Code?" Normani suggested. "Something empowering."
"How about 1432? You know, like, 'I love you too?' It's simple," Dinah added.
We all nodded in agreement, eager to pick our name and get on stage.
"Great, that's it then," Simon chirped. "Good luck out there."
He walked off, leaving us to process our new name just seconds before we were beckoned out of the green room.
"We need to go," Ally informed us all, and we all followed her out of the room and to the wings.
We locked hands as we did before every performance and watched as the contestant before us walked off stage, a proud look on his face. We continued to the back of the stage where we would make our grand entrance and waited for our cue, our hearts in our throats. We heard our intro and released one another's hands, preparing to take our individual places on stage as the music started to play.
The second I saw the crowd I zoned out. I heard their screams and saw their faces. They were so expectant. They wanted a good show, and that's what they were going to get.
We performed our rendition of Taylor Swift's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together." I could feel myself sing, but I couldn't hear. I was too hypnotized by the moment. I couldn't hear the other girls. All I knew was that we were there on the stage and everything we had all worked so hard for was finally falling into place. The music finally stopped and we were met by the audience's cheers of approval. Each one of us smiled bigger than we had ever smiled before. We locked hands again and stood in front of the judges, waiting to hear what they had to say.
"I'll be honest," L.A. started, "I didn't like it."
A series of boos filled the room as our smiles were washed away by his words.
"There were no harmonies and one of you, Camila I think, got off pitch when you were doing your runs. I just didn't like it," he repeated.
Camila bowed her head and I could tell by the heat emanating from her skin that she was trying to fight back tears. I wished I would have been paying attention so that I could have told her he was wrong, but I didn't know.
"I agree with L.A.," Demi said, "but I also think that only one person really shined...and that was Camila."
I turned to Camila to give her a warm smile but refrained from doing so when I noticed the annoyance that was evident on her features. Her lips were pursed and her brow was furrowed, but she tried her best to force a smile and brought the mic to her lips.
"I think we all shined," she argued.
The crowd erupted into cheers of agreement and we all squeezed closer together, our hands interlocked.
The rest of the judges critiqued us, most of them agreeing with L.A., and then we were off stage. No one said a word as we made our way back to our rooms. We were done for the night and ready for the day to be over. I shut myself in my bathroom and got ready for bed, throwing on the same sweats and t-shirt that I had worn earlier in the day. I crawled into bed and shut off the bedside lamp, closing my eyes almost immediately and drifting off to sleep.
...
My heart thudded in my chest as I was startled awake by quiet knocking on my door. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand- 3:36 A.M. I rolled over in the bed and stretched my arms out, trying my best to wake up before dragging myself out of the covers and over to the door.
"This better be pretty freaking important," I snapped as I swung the door open. "Do you have any idea what time-"
I stopped myself once the door was fully open and Camila was left standing in front of me, tears streaming down her puffy cheeks.
"Camz, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly, pulling her into the room and flipping on the light.
I gripped her wrist and pulled her over to the couch, sitting her down and placing my hand on her shoulder. She wouldn't meet my gaze as her tears continued to flow.
"Camz, talk to me," I pleaded in a low, soothing whisper. "What's wrong?"
"I completely fucked our chances," she sobbed. "You heard L.A. He said I was pitchy and that he didn't like it. He didn't like our entire performance because of me."
"L.A. doesn't like anyone that's not on his team, Camz," I laughed, finally gaining her attention. "He said that to about five other people tonight. He'll look for any excuse to put down someone that's not his. Besides, didn't you hear Demi? She said you shined."
"I heard myself though," she argued. "I was off. My voice was squeaky and high and I just couldn't hit the notes."
"Why?" I pressed, not arguing but not agreeing. "That's not like you. You usually hit the notes dead on."
"I was worried," she answered.
"We were all worried. This is stressful for everyone," I reminded her.
"That's not what I was worried about," she corrected me.
My shoulders slumped in realization and I buried my face in my hands, rubbing my temple before addressing her again.
"You're blaming yourself for my breakup with Keaton," I said. Not a question but not a statement either.
"If I hadn't said that would you have broken up with him?" she wondered.
"Probably. Maybe not today, but eventually. It wouldn't have worked out anyway," I assured her.
"You don't know that," she argued, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees so her chin could rest in her hands. "You didn't give it any time all because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."
"Camz, it's not your fault, okay?" I pleaded. "And besides, even if it was, what's the big deal? We dated for like...a week."
She sat up and stared off into the distance, a glassy look in her eyes. She sat like that for what felt like the longest time as a comfortable silence fell between us. I couldn't help but admire how thoughtful she was even under stress. She took the time to carefully plan her words, but at the same time everything she said came straight from her heart.
"Do you have...any...idea," she started, her voice barely above a whisper, "how much it scares me to think about hurting you? It scares me to think about Keaton hurting you, and that's why I said what I said, but it really scares me to think about myself hurting you because I'm an idiot and I don't know how to keep my thoughts to myself."
"You're not an idiot. You're the most intelligent person I know," I promised her.
"See, that's what I'm talking about. You look at me like I'm made of gold but I don't think of myself that way. I can't find a single thing that I like about myself and I'm afraid that I'm going to hurt you if I don't love myself the way you want me to. I don't want to let you down. I don't want to say something wrong and let you down. I don't want to disagree with you and let you down. I don't want to let you down at all, and I'm so afraid that I'm going to," she choked out, tears forming in her eyes again.
"Come here," I instructed. "I want to show you something."
I got up off the couch and walked into the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror.
"Look in the mirror. Don't just glance. Really look," I instructed Camila.
"Lauren, I don't-"
"Shut up," I demanded. "Just shut up for like five seconds and do what I say. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."
She stared at her reflection for a few seconds, her eyes narrowing as she studied her face until she bowed her head and stepped away.
"This is stupid. I don't know what you're trying to prove," she said.
"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm asking you what you see when you look in the mirror. Don't give me some long list of character traits, just tell me what you see in your reflection," I explained.
"I don't know, my face?" she smirked.
I smiled at her attempt to add humor to the situation and then directed her attention back to the mirror.
"What do you see on your face?" I chuckled.
"I see that my hair is a mess. I see the mole on the top of my forehead. I see that my eyes are usually brown but now they're red from crying. I see my stupid crooked teeth when I'm talking. I don't know. I just see me," she answered finally.
"Good," I cooed, turning off the bathroom light and walking onto the balcony overlooking the city.
Camila followed behind me and slid the door shut, leaning against the railing with her forearms.
"What was the point of that?" she wondered aloud.
"I wanted to know how you see yourself, and then I wanted to give you a second to think about it, which I doubt you did, and now I'm going to tell you what I see and what you should see," I answered.
"Lauren this is-"
"No, God Camz, you talk so much," I protested. "Don't get me wrong, I love the sound of your voice, but let me hear my own for a second, okay?"
She turned to look at me but didn't say anything and I took that as my cue to begin.
"You see what you can see," I started. "Mirrors only allow you to see so much. You've only ever seen yourself in pictures or looking in the mirror, and that doesn't do you justice. You can see what's there. You can see what anyone would notice upon a first glance, but you know what you can't see?"
She stared at me, waiting for me to continue.
"You can't see the way your eyes light up when you talk about music, or books, or movies, or everything else you're passionate about, and you're passionate about so much, and it's absolutely beautiful. You can't see that your eyes are not brown. Your eyes are a mix between amber and chestnut, and they're so dark yet they contain so much light. They're the color of the earth that nourishes a meadow of flowers in the spring, and the color of the leaves as they float to the ground in the fall, and the color of the chocolate you get at Christmas that makes you so happy because it's Christmas and what's not to be happy about? They're the color of the mud that sticks to the bottom of your feet in the summertime which sounds gross but is actually one of the most beautiful things ever because it's so refreshing and feels like freedom. You can't see all that, and I wish you could because believe me, your eyes are not fucking brown," I continued.
"When you look in the mirror or see yourself in a picture, you can't see the girl that gets butterflies in her stomach thinking about all her favorite things. You can't see the girl that tries her best to hide her feelings but fails miserably because she's filled with too much expression to contain it. You can't see the girl that hasn't had her first kiss yet, and you can't see the look on your face when you think about what it'll be like, and you're probably wondering how I know when you're thinking that. I know because you bite your lip and stare off into the distance. You don't look at anything. You just stare, and I can see the gears turning in your head and your heart beating out of your chest as you imagine it. You can't see any of that either," I added.
I turned to look at her and found that she was still staring at me. I doubted that her eyes had ever left my face.
"And you know what really kills me?" I concluded. "All you can see is the way you imagine yourself now- insecure and flawed and not good enough- but you can't see who you could be. You could do so much and do it all so well, and you won't even give yourself the benefit of the doubt. You can't see who you want to be, or maybe you just won't look, but I can. I can see that you want to be loved and be in love. I can see that you want to inspire. I can see that you want to change the world while the world changes you. You want to be able to wake up in the morning and be proud to go outside in your pajamas, without makeup, and think 'yeah, I'm beautiful,' but you won't take the time to look. You won't open up to the possibilities, and it kills me to know that you could do all those things, but you're afraid. You can't see the fear in your eyes when you take risks, but I can, and I don't want to. I want to look you in the eyes and know that you're living life the way you deserve."
She stared at me for what felt like the first time. She had looked at me before. She had scrutinized me and looked me over, but this time she stared. She looked so deep into my eyes that I could feel them burning. My face felt like it was on fire- not from embarrassment or the prolonged eye contact, but because the look she gave me lit a fuse inside of me and exploded my heart into a million pieces. She looked like she was crying for help. The sparkle in her eyes was there, but it wasn't the same. It was desperate. She looked at me as if I was the first person to ever see her as something more than average. She looked confused, like she didn't know how to respond. The emotions that the look in her elicited set me on fire, yes, but something else was there as well. I could see that she wanted to believe me. She wanted to accept everything I had said and take it all in stride, and I felt, even if just for a moment, that I could break down all of her walls. I wanted to. I wanted to peel away every layer of her and wrap my arms around the real her. I wanted to know her, and the way she stared at me made me believe that she wanted that as well.
She opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it almost immediately, cutting herself off before she even gave herself a chance to voice her opinion. She looked away from me and back at the skyline, the light from the city illuminating her face and making her cheekbones prominent. She sighed and shifted her weight to one foot, the other settling on the lower railing as she leaned forward onto her forearms.
"My problem is that as much as I love being alone, I want someone to share my life with. I want someone by my side when I do all those things, and I don't think I can do any of them until I find that person," she explained.
"I thought you were in love. Doesn't that mean you've found that person?" I questioned.
"It doesn't make a difference if they don't love me back," she sighed.
"How do you know they don't love you back?" I pressed.
"Because if they did they would have done something by now," she said.
We both looked over the balcony at the skyline, each of us enveloped in our own thoughts.
"Maybe they're just waiting for the right moment," I decided finally.
"But how do I know when that's going to be?" she asked, frustration clear in her tone.
"You don't. It'll just happen," I told her, remembering Ally's advice from earlier. "Who knows, maybe they were waiting for you to knock on their door at 3 A.M. so that they could show you the skyline and kiss you on the balcony," I said, taking a step closer to her.
She whipped around to look at me, her mouth slightly hanging open in shock. Her brow furrowed and I thought for a moment that I had crossed the line. I opened my mouth to apologize but the sweet sound of her raspy tone cut me off.
"Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I questioned, genuinely confused by her insinuation.
"I mean...Jesus, I don't even know, that's the point. I don't know what to say when I'm around you because you take my breath away and it drives me absolutely nuts because all I ever do is talk, but when I'm with you it's like I'm afraid that whatever words come out of my mouth won't do you justice," she rambled.
"I don't get it," I told her.
"I don't get it either, Lauren. I don't get a lot of things, and I know I try to make it seem like that's not the case, but it is. I don't get a lot of things, but I especially don't get you. I want to though. I want to understand you and it makes me insane thinking about the fact that I don't know how to do that...I've never...I don't..." she trailed off, her voice catching in her throat as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.
"I've been thinking about that day in the kitchen," she said after a minute. "I shouldn't be thinking about it, because I'm the one who said it didn't matter, but I am, and it does. It matters so much. I know what happened, and you know what happened, and I hate that neither of us wants to admit it because we know damn well what that was, and it's important. It's so important," she continued.
"Camz," I said soothingly, trying to stop her from rambling.
"I just feel like if it was meant to happen it would have. Keaton wouldn't have walked in and interrupted and we would have talked about it. We would have figured everything out, but that's not what happened. Nothing happened, and I think that's what's driving me so insane, because I wanted something to happen. I don't know what, but I wanted something, and I didn't get it," she attempted to explain.
"Camz, listen to me for a sec-"
"We have to talk about it eventually. I need some kind of closure. I need to know that I didn't just imagine it and I need to know what your intentions were. We can't keep putting it off. We...we have to talk about it," she choked out, her voice squeaking with every word.
I took another step forward so that I was only inches away from her and she turned, startled by my sudden movement. I brushed my fingertips lightly over her hips, pushing up the hem of her t-shirt slightly so that I could rest my hands on the bones that jutted out there. I pushed her back into the railing and stared deep into her auburn eyes that were staring back at me just as intensely.
"I'm tired of talking," I whispered.
I leaned in so that our lips brushed lightly against each other, the momentary feeling of her flesh against mine sending chills down my spine. We stayed like that for I don't know how long, our lips touching but not touching until finally I couldn't fight the urge to have her against me and I brought our mouths together. We remained pressed together for a few seconds until I pulled away, resting my forehead against hers.
My lips throbbed where they had been in contact with hers. They didn't tingle like they did after the kisses I shared with Keaton, no, they throbbed, blood pulsating through them as I craved the taste of her once more.
I crashed our lips together again, this time pressing myself against her so that we were chest to chest. I could feel her heartbeat against my skin, racing faster than my mind was spinning. Her arms snaked behind my back and grasped the fabric of my t-shirt, pulling me into her even more. I ran my tongue along her bottom lip, tasting her cherry Chapstick and feeling the soft flesh mold into my own as if we were one. She exhaled through her nose and the feel of her breath against my skin was ice-cold and red-hot at the same time. She separated our lips at last, pressing our foreheads together once more while we both tried to catch our breath.
"There," I said simply. "That's what should have happened in the kitchen. That was my intention."
Her breaths were sharp and warm as they collided with my skin, feeling like the windows rolled down on a summer day. She was silent, her eyes closed as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Are you okay?" I asked her.
"No," she squeaked.
"What's wrong?" I questioned nervously, wondering if I had overstepped my boundaries.
"I...you...that was..." she stuttered.
Her eyes opened and flitted back and forth, searching for an answer in both of mine. She brought our lips together again, having not found what she was looking for. I closed my eyes and attempted to taste every bit of her flesh against my own in case it were all a dream and in a few moments I would open my eyes, the past few minutes all a figment of my imagination. I wanted to become familiar with every detail of her. I knew how her kiss tasted at three in the morning- like the city air and all of the dreams she was supposed to have later that night. She tasted like uncertainty, and God it was appetizing. The electric feeling that jolted through me when our lips met tasted like a bad idea that would make a good story down the road. It tasted like a fleeting moment of recklessness, and the idea that we could be young and dumb together sent shivers down my spine. I knew how she tasted at that moment, but I wanted to know what her kiss was like at seven in the morning after a night of restless sleep together, whether from intimacy or pointless conversation, I didn't care. I wanted to know her lips at noon when the sun was at its highest point and so was I, my hand tucked safely in hers. I craved the taste of her at two in the afternoon as we sat outside that same café we had occupied before, the flavor of caramel coffee on her breath. I needed to have her mouth pressed to mine at midnight as we both laid awake in bed, cuddled up to one another while music filled the pitch-black of night. I wanted to become familiar with every detail of her pink lips, and I wanted to know in the back of my mind that they were mine whenever I wanted them.
She pulled away and twisted around so that she was facing the skyline again, and I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder and closing my eyes.
"That was my first kiss," she finally managed to say.
"Was it-" I started, but she cut me off by craning her neck and burying her face in the crook of my shoulder.
"Don't ask me how it was," she instructed. "I don't have anything to compare it to, and I don't want anything else to compare it to, so you can be assured that it was everything I imagined it to be."
"You've imagined kissing me?" I chuckled.
"All the time," she whispered into my skin, tickling the spot just above my collarbone.
"Honestly," I said, "I've imagined kissing you too. That's all I could think about in the kitchen."
"I'm glad you didn't kiss me in the kitchen," she told me. "It would have been nice, but there's something about this whole situation that's just so much more appealing."
"Why do you think that is?" I questioned.
"Because it's real. It's just you and me, no makeup, dressed in sweats with our hair a mess. There's nothing in between us. It's as raw and as real as it can get, and I don't think I want you any other way. I just want you, and this right here..." she paused to squeeze my hand, her tiny fingers overlapping with mine, "this is nothing but you."
"Im always going to be myself when I'm with you, Camz. It's just, for now, I'll be covered in makeup and dressed to the nines while we're on stage, but you'll have the whole me every night and in the mornings. That'll be the first thing you see before you go to bed and the last thing you see at night, and I want the same for you," I said.
"That works for me," she smirked.
And I knew it did.