Lauren dreads going back to the dorm room, partly because she's still a bit hurt by Camila's words, even though she now understands why she has been judgmental. But a bigger reason is that she misses her and she doesn't want to feel that way. It makes her feel vulnerable, powerless to her feelings.
Fact is, if anybody else called her a slut, there'll be no questions asked, she'll drop their asses, or at least punish them for it. With Camila, she knows that one sad look from her will have her heart melting on the spot, and that scares her a lot. She needs to remind herself that she can't allow a person to have so much control of her.
But, like Normani and Dinah said, it's time to go back and face the music. She's running out of clean clothes anyway. She even had to borrow Riri's coat as she's been hanging out with her yesterday, having known her way before she calls her Professor Fenty.
Back when they used to be in this tiny exclusive philosophy club she and her friends have assembled, where a bunch of people into philosophy get together twice a month to drink, smoke weed, and just talk about the world and the human mind, and aiming to explore and liberate themselves from the standard norms. Just think of them as a millennial hipster Beat Generation (which is funnily oxymoronic already, but hey, the youth can do anything they want), except that Lauren has totally sold out simply because she's so used to the comfort that her family's money provide her. She may reject the concept of materialism (save for a few necessities like her car), but she's ashamed to admit that she's a spoiled hypocrite. She's an enormous contradiction, is what she is.
Anyway, this club is one of the few things Lauren will forever cherish; the serenity and fulfillment it gave her, a sense of belongingness, and the realization that human beings are just a dot in this huge mysterious universe. That no matter how complex or complicated she feels like, how lost she gets sometimes, Lauren is reminded that her existence is nothing as compared to what's out there. The talks of philosophy reminds her that as intellectual beings, people truly don't know anything; and the smallness that fact makes her feel, ironically is also what sets her free.
So, yeah, she thinks that spending one night at Riri's pad refreshed Lauren -- it reminded her of that vital piece of her old life. The pull of freedom her old life offers used to be so appealing to her; her tendency to escape would have been hard to resist. But maybe something in here is keeping her from fleeing? Or maybe she's just starting to mature, who knows?
So, on her way to the dorm, with Nala on her arm giving her the companionship she needs, she rehearses in her mind how she's gonna act, what she's gonna say, if she's gonna forgive her or maintain a safe distance from her. There are a lot of possible ways, and while she's thinking about the best course of action she's gonna take, she finds herself already opening the door to their room which she wasn't even aware she's doing until half of her body is already in the room.
Something slams into her body, knocking the wind out of her, and she feels a pair of arms snake around her waist, and that familiar scent of fruity shampoo quickly tells her without looking that it's definitely Camila who's hugging her and not a serial killer.
Everything she's been rehearsing in her mind flies out into the still of the night.
Usually, she knows what to do in most situations, but this time she feels all the air drain out of her lungs and she swears she's about to float away like a balloon, and it's definitely not because of Camila's rib-crushing hug.
"Lauren, I'm so so so very sorry, you're not a slut! I swear you're not a slut. I was being stupid and judgmental, and I had no right to call you that." Camila says in a small voice.
Her heart is beating so fast and hard she's afraid that Camila might be able to feel it, considering they're practically glued chest to chest (Camila really is a tight hugger wow) and she can feel Camila's breath on the side of her neck. To Lauren, it's equivalent to a quick snort in the powder room, a quick fix that gives an instant rush, and before her mind could make sense of what's happening, her body is already responding to Camila's presence as she unconsciously run her hand up Camila's back and stroke her hair in a gentle calming manner.
Gently, she places Nala on top of the little table near the door, so she could fully return Camila's hug. She wants to to keep running her hand all over Camila's back and hair, and she can't fully do that with only one hand.
She hears Camila sniffling like a kid who's been put on a time-out, so she decides to end her misery. "It's okay, Camz. We're okay."
Well, okay, her mouth has obviously decided for her then.
Camila quickly leans back to stare at Lauren with those big brown doe eyes that Lauren absolutely adores, and she bites her lip as if she's trying so hard not to cry. "You're not mad at me?"
"I'm not." Lauren says in a reassuring tone, her hands settling themselves at Camila's waist, her thumbs rubbing circles along the soft skin.
"But I called you a- a s-slut." She whispers, hesitating on the word, as if saying it thrice out loud will summon the boogeyman. "And you left -- and didn't come back for like three days."
"I was hurt, I'm not gonna lie. What you said was wrong. Like, really wrong, Camila."
"I know. I'm sorry." Camila says in a repentant voice. "Are you sure you're not mad at me anymore? You've really forgiven me? Dinah told me I should be ready to grovel."
"I forgive you, because I understand now -- somehow -- where you're coming from. I'm at fault, too, and I apologize for provoking you too many times. I admit I have been inconsiderate and insensitive, too." Lauren says, recalling the conversation she has had with Dinah and Normani. "But I need you to understand that it doesn't give you the right to call anyone that word just because you disapprove of my lifestyle, or because your beauty sleep was disturbed."
"I'm sorry for calling you a slut."
"And I'm sorry for calling you a prude."
She can feel Camila's hug tightening, as if wanting to show her how much she regrets what happened, and Lauren returns the gesture.
"I thought you're never coming back again." Camila's lips quiver against Lauren's collarbone.
"That's not possible. I would never leave Camren behind." Lauren states seriously.
"I've been taking care of her."
"Hey, Camila?"
"Yeah?"
"I kinda wanna see you grovel now." Lauren teases to lighten the mood.
Camila slaps Lauren's arm and takes a step back, and Lauren wants to protest at the sudden lack of warmth her hug provided her, but she keeps her mouth shut.
It was fun while it lasted.
Camila pouts, her bottom lip jutting out in her usual puss in boots expression.
Oh boy is Lauren a sucker for that face. It makes her want to reach out, pull Camila back into her arms, and just kiss the fuck out of her until that bottom lip she's been dying to put in her mouth becomes as red as fresh cherries, and even then, even when Camila's lips are swollen because she couldn't help but suck it and nip at it, she wouldn't stop kissing her.
It's an all-consuming desire that's been building up inside her. Something that also immensely scares her, because she doesn't want to ruin the friendship - or whatever you call what they have - they have miraculously built by acting on her desires. Everything could backfire.
"Lauren?"
She doesn't even realize that she has zoned out and now Camila is eyeing her a little weirdly.
"Yes, Camila?" Lauren walks across the room, shaking her head to rid of her impure thoughts, as she shrugs off the borrowed coat, and rifles through her drawers for clean clothes.
"Can we like talk for a while? Until I fall asleep? I just miss you. It was lonely here for days."
"Sure. Let me wash up real quick first. Be right back."
Soon enough, Lauren comes out of the bathroom all fresh and clean, and sees Camila already settled on her bed, with her blanket pulled up to her chin, the tip of Mr. Snuggles visible near her head, and her feet clad in her favorite banana socks peeking out at the bottom.
Lauren checks on her pet first, confirming that Camren has been fed today, and feeling happy when her fish wiggles her tail towards her and jumping half an inch above the water when Lauren lets her finger hover above the uncovered part of the tank and briefly kisses her finger. She murmurs a 'good job, Camren' and lightly taps on the glass with a giggle. As it has been her nightly routine with Camren, she bends down so she's eye-level with the glass tank, and leans forward as she puckers her lips up and makes kissy sounds in front of Camren, who's still eyeing her and flaring her fins as her own version of a goodnight kiss, and that's it. Lauren's night is now complete and she's ready to go to bed.
When she turns around, a goofy smile on her face (because that's what her pet does to her, Camren drains all her stress away) she suddenly feels self-conscious when she realizes that Camila has been watching her, and she clears her throat and tries to fix her expression to something more intimidating.
She fails.
Ignoring Camila's teasing smiles, she picks up Nala from the table, goes to her own bed and lies on her side, mirroring Camila's position.
They stare at each other, but neither of them speaks up.
The silence is soothing, yet, there's also a sense of urgency. Like there's an electric current buzzing around the room that grows more and more noticeable as the silence grows, but both are afraid to speak, as if it could shock them.
Maybe it's just static electricity?
Lauren's bursting with feelings, with words dying to spill out of her mouth, unfamiliar emotions settling deep in her stomach, and hopeful pleas wanting to leak out of her; but Lauren remains silent. For several minutes they just stay like that, staring at each other, wondering what the other is thinking, wondering why they feel comfortable in their shared silence. Two pairs of curious eyes gazing at each other: brown ones filled with warmth and wonder, while green ones surprisingly look darker - pupils blown, intense and wary.
Lauren is the first to break the silence.
"I thought you wanted to talk?"
Camila nods.
"So?" Lauren prods on.
"Uhmm. Tell me about yourself."
"Let me say this again... I thought you wanted to talk?" Lauren rolls her eyes.
"What's your favorite color?" Camila pushes.
Lauren raises her eyebrow. "Seriously? Have you seen me?"
Camila laughs, the kind of laugh that Lauren likes the most, where she throws her head back and her mouth is wide open as that infectious husky laughter makes the air crisper and the lights seem brighter and everything feels like it's been painted by Matisse -- alive with bursting colors. That kind of laughter which makes Lauren wants to laugh as well. And so she does. And, as expected, everything feels lighter.
Still chuckling, Camila shakes her head realizing how stupid her question was. "Let me rephrase. Your favorite color after black."
Lauren hums as she contemplates the question, one would think she's been asked about the meaning of life. She's quite surprised by the realization (no, she hasn't figured out the meaning of life yet, probably because she believes it's "meaningless") that she actually doesn't have a favorite color other than black. It's funny, because she has never even thought about if before, maybe because nobody has asked her that, and she has never even dwelled on it especially since her things are mainly in all shades of black, white, or grey. Now, it makes her wonder why the hell she doesn't have a favorite color when she's been surrounded by art (and art people) half of her life, and she has spent a big chunk of her spare hours hanging around in art galleries and her friends' lofts (and fuck buddies) who are mostly artists. Probably because when she looks at art she sees the paintings in its entirety, she appreciated the mix of colors but never having a preference, because she focuses on what the meaning and emotions lie behind each paintings or photos. She never really dwelled on one color in particular.
But now, as she stares at Camila, she's suddenly certain that she has a new favorite color. And she blurts it out the second her mind registers that fact.
"The color of your eyes." Lauren grins.
She's probably blushing right now because why the fuck would she say that? It sounds creepy and goofy and Lauren wants to take it back, but then she sees Camila's eyes widen in surprise, and that tiny hint of a smile plays on her lips which she quickly tries to hide by biting on her bottom lip, and Lauren knows she's gonna repeat what she said over and over just to see Camila that way again.
"Brown is such an ugly eye color, though. It's boring and it's the same color as poop." Camila mumbles shyly.
"Not yours. Your eyes remind me of everything that's wonderful in this world... It's like melted milk chocolate, or that rich color of coffee with the tiniest hint of hazelnut creamer giving it that beautiful shade of dark brown. It reminds me of the color of that tree trunk where my dad built me my treehouse. It reminds me of things that make me calm. Your eyes are warm and inviting, and it puts anyone at ease, so yeah, that's why I like them. They're beautiful."
You're beautiful. Of course, Lauren doesn't say that out loud.
"I love your eyes, too. I think I could write a hundred songs about them." Camila says truthfully.
She's smiling so widely that Lauren is having a hard time keeping herself from walking across the room and just... No.
"Like, for real, Lauren, your eyes are amazing! I'm so jealous. If I could have them, I'll put them in my pocket just so I can look at them any time I want, and just admire the beautiful green in them."
"I don't know if that's sweet or creepy." Lauren laughs. "Now I'm afraid to fall asleep and wake up with empty eye sockets."
"Oh, please. You know what I mean. I'm not the one into torture porn." Camila rolls her eyes.
"Torture porn is my favorite."
"You're nasty."
"Humans are nasty in general."
"That's why I'm staying in the cartoons lane. Peppa Pig is all the world needs."
"You're such a child." Lauren mocks.
"Says the one cuddling a Nala stuffed toy."
"She's not just a stu-- okay, you know what, whatever." Lauren cuddles Nala even more.
"What's Nala's back story, if you don't mind me asking."
Lauren stays silent for a bit, wondering if she should tell Camila why she loves Nala so much and why she couldn't part with her for a long period of time. She feels like if she did, she'll be giving Camila yet another piece of her soul, and her mind says that she shouldn't do it. Self-preservation has been deeply embedded in her for quite a long while now, and opening herself up to someone who isn't Normani (and her ex -- which has been proven to be a disaster) is like peeling orange with short nails -- a lot of struggle.
To hell with it. Like she could deny anything Camila wants when she looks at her like that.
"My abuela gave it to me when I was like nine years old or maybe ten. She's my dad's mother." Lauren shows her the tattoo on the side of her wrist. "This is her. Angelica."
"It was around the time when I excitedly announced during a small family dinner that I wanted to be a writer and live in a nice cottage in a forest and paint pretty pictures of flowers and trees, and write about fairies and goblins and dragons and unicorns. I was like really happy telling them, you know, I was just a child, and my abuelita was really supportive and was like 'oh tell me more, my little princess' -- but then my mom slammed the table so hard with her hand I remember how the utensils rattled against our plates, and then she told me that I'll never be that person who dreams stupid dreams, and that I'll be whoever she wanted me to be... Coz I'm a Jauregui and Jaureguis are meant to conquer the world."
"I remember how my abuela tried to shush my mother, but my mother told her that I'll never be anything important if she -- meaning, my abuela -- enables my silly little girly fantasies."
"She basically demanded that I grow up. At age nine, I felt my dreams crumble. Granted, I was too young to be sure what I really wanted in life, but still, that damaged your soul."
"I felt so powerless to the current of my destiny. From that point on I was led to believe that my life isn't just what I want it to be, because my parents know best, and that I should sacrifice for my family the way my family sacrificed for me. To give me a life I never wanted in the first place. But I was a kid then, and I felt so small and unimportant. It's so easy to be brainwashed. To believe that I'm weak and silly. I was nine, Camz, and it was my first glimpse at reality, and I realized that the real world -- the adult world -- is not as fascinating and glamorous as I thought it to be. That's probably why I surrounded myself with books and music and movies -- it's my way of escaping. I grew up to be an escapist, while trying to be who my mother wanted me to be -- a robot. I escaped into my dream world the minute I close my bedroom doors."
"The day after that wonderful and unforgettable family dinner, my abuela visited me, and she brought me a gift. It was Nala. She knew how I love The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast because we always watched it together whenever she's visiting me. She told me it's a toss up between a Beast plushy and a The Lion King stuffed toy, and she thought that Nala is more fitted for me." Lauren chuckles as her vivid memories of her abuela and that previous moment they shared flood her mind.
"She said that lions aren't very good runners, to which I asked why they were called King of the Jungle, like how can they properly hunt if they're slow as fuck -- not verbatim, of course," Lauren chuckles.
"She then told me that lions have hearts that are relatively small for their big bodies, which means that they easily tire when they run, which means that other animals with adrenaline rush could easily out-run them.
'So you know what lions do, my princess? Instead of depending on speed, they learn how to use stealth. That's how they become great predators.' Lauren recalls her abuela's words.
Camila, at this point, is already sitting cross-legged on her bed, entirely engrossed by Lauren's story-telling. She has her pillow on her lap, her elbows resting on top of it, and her hands cupping her chin, with Mr. Snuggles next to her and also facing Lauren. So, Lauren has quite an audience -- Camila, Mr. Snuggles, Camren, and Nala.
"Your abuela sounds like a very smart woman." Camila says.
Lauren smiles. "She is. Very. And imagine how amazed I was as a kid listening to her. She was my idol. Anyway, after that lion fact she shared -- I didn't think anything of it, really, I simply thought she just likes trivia -- she hands me Nala and said that a lion pride is a matriarchal group. Female lions are the ones really in charge -- they do most of the hunting and nurturing -- as most females do, juggling complex responsibilities at the same time while the males mostly worry about their mane and how loud their roars are."
"She said that Nala is a symbol of female strength. She told me that I should never deny my own strengths, that I should be who I want to be because females are not simple creatures -- they can juggle all sorts of responsibilities, and they could lead the pack using their own cunning.
"She told me that, sometimes, running isn't always the most effective way. I keep hearing her words, even until now: always do things in a smart way. Be stealthy. Be fierce. Don't run. Face your challenges in such a way that your prey won't even know when your attack will be. She told me not to openly antagonize my mother, and not run away from her -- though, that's something I could rarely do." Lauren shrugs, before continuing.
'Do your responsibilities, build up your character, and when the time comes, you'll have the strength to live your life as you see fit. Nala will remind you that you're my strong little girl, don't ever forget that. Even when I'm not here anymore, as long as you have Nala with you, nobody can tear you down.'
Lauren chuckles. "My grandma taught me the trick of subterfuge at age nine. And using a stuffed toy. Can you believe it?"
"Honestly? I can totally see it." Camila laughs. "You're a sneaky little bastard, Lauren."
But then, Lauren's smile falters as she continues her story. "I told my abuela that I wished she was my mother. And she laughed and she said that I wouldn't want that. She told me she was worse than my mother when she was younger. That my mother had a harder time dealing with her. She told me that when my dad told her he's gonna marry my mother, she was livid. She didn't want an outsider -- that means anyone not born from old money -- marrying her son. But she said my mother wasn't easily deterred -- she went on and proved her worth, showing that she's smarter and more capable than my dad -- which is true, my dad is more chill like me, he didn't like responsibilities, so he let my mom take over the company.
"The company flourished even more under my mother's leadership -- of course, they pretended that my dad's the big boss for show -- the king of the pride where he occasionally shakes his mane and roars to let everyone know he's the king... But the family knew who did all the work and so she finally gained my abuela's respect. Abuela told me that behind every FDR in this world, there's an Eleanor Roosevelt pulling all the strings."
More vivid memories of her conversation with her abuela overloads her brain, ones that she has tried to suppress because of all the regrets that came with it.
You may hate your mom, but she's also a woman of strength who had her own battles. She may have forgotten what's important, but I know she has good intentions. For years, she has tried to gain my respect, worked hard just to prove her worth, and along the way she has become someone she's been trying to fight the whole time. She thinks that by grooming you as the next head of the family she's doing you a favor. She thinks that your worth is defined by becoming her -- a strong leader. She thinks that is the best way to live. She wants you to be respected and successful the only way she knew how, and what success meant for her.
Lauren tries to tell Camila as much as she recalls.
"'I don't want to be like her', I told my grandma. And she nodded and told me to never forget what I said, that I shouldn't let anyone dictate who I should become. And even if I did forget, Nala will remind me to be my own person."
"More than a year ago, I had a huge fight with my mother, I didn't wanna be in college, and it was a terrible fight. I left home, went with my then-girlfriend who was traveling with her band -- our friends -- from city to city to do gigs and shit. I had the best time of my life, because I was free. I was in love for the first time, and I was free to explore everything. I was tasting art on every corner we pass by, my entire body was alive and brimming with energy and inspiration. Every inch of my skin sweats creativity. I thought I finally have escaped my fate. But then I got a call from my sister, and she told me my abuela died."
Lauren takes a deep shaky breath.
"I rushed back home as quick as I could, I almost missed her funeral, but I managed to say my last goodbye. I didn't even have the chance to change my clothes -- I went straight to the funeral wearing my leather jacket, my paint-splattered Metallica shirt, tattered jeans, and Nala on my arm. I can feel my mother glaring from behind, and the judging eyes drilling holes on my back from the rest of my family's associates and relatives. But I didn't care. Because my abuela's words keep echoing in my mind, 'Don't run. You're my strong little girl. I'll always be with you.'"
"I've never hated myself more than that moment. Because I ran away, and I lost my abuela. I lost a large piece of my world, and I hated myself. I hated my mom, yes, but at that moment, as I stared at my abuela's serene but lifeless face, I hated myself even more. I cried so hard, I didn't even care that people were watching me. Nala literally absorbed all of my grief -- she soaked up my tears."
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Lauren." Camila says sadly. She's been biting the insides of her cheeks the whole time to keep herself from crying. Why should she cry!? She's totally not gonna cry.
"No, it's okay. I have come to terms with it. I will always miss her, because she's the only one who took the time to listen to me... To make sure I was heard and to let me know that my feelings are valid. After that, I decided to follow her advice. Use stealth, don't run. So, here I am. In college, doing what my mother wants me to do. Sure, I'm doing this for my trust fund -- who wants to starve, anyway? But I'm just being smart about it. Do everything in a smart way."
Lauren continues.
"Growing up, I learned to live two lives: one that my mother wants me to be, and another my abuela encouraged me to be -- my more authentic self. I became a walking paradox -- two personas inside me fighting for dominance. I hated my family's lifestyle, and yet I've also benefited from it. I've enjoyed the luxury, while denouncing it at the same time. I attended cocktail parties, then complained about it to my "outsider" friends later when I met them for some crazy after-parties.
It was confusing for me. I started putting art into my body -- to defy my mother and to tell everyone else that I'm not like them. I'm unique and strong -- like what my abuela said. I had her name tattooed on my wrist to remind myself everyday that she's with me, and that I'm worthy to be heard.
My logic was, even if I'm wearing those fancy dresses, or learning how to think like a robot, or mingle with boring little yuppies in business parties, my tattoos and my piercings are like neon signs that say 'I'm different, I am what you hate, and I reject what you people stand for.' I was a ticking bomb of identity crisis, waiting to just explode a second time, and yes, every now and then, I'd like to run away again. But each time I go to bed, I see Nala and she reminds me of my abuela, and it keeps me grounded. She's been like a source of strength, just touching her immediately calms me down. I don't know what I'll do without her."
Without even realizing it, Lauren ends her story with Nala crushed against her chest, as if trying to use her soft body to keep the hole in her chest from leaking.
"Thank you for sharing that to me, Lauren." Camila says sincerely. "I wish I have met your abuela. I would have thanked her because she made you you."
Lauren smiles. She feels a bit drained, but not in a bad way. Telling this story to Camila feels a bit cathartic. Like sharing a heavy load so now it feels lighter.
Silence pervades the room once again. But it doesn't feel like the night has ended; it's more like they're recharging because both of them still wants to converse.
Eventually, Lauren speaks up again. "Ask me more questions. But no more back stories for tonight, please."
Camila raises her hand as a gesture of promise.
"Okay, so what's your favorite movie? No Disney. It's already established we both love Disney movies." Camila asks. "Please don't say Hostel."
"Fine, I won't say Hostel, but that's a lie and we both know it -- that eye scene with the Japanese girl gave me so much life!" Lauren chuckles. "But yeah, the easiest answer would be The Sound of Music."
"Okay, now you're just blatantly mocking me!"
"What? Why? It's true, I love that movie! It never fails to make me feel good, regardless of whatever mood I'm in. I just play that movie and it takes me back to my childhood, to simpler times -- which is ironic, I know, considering the setting of the film -- but I mean, c'mon, My Favorite Things is the jam! And watching the singing nuns try to figure out how to solve a problem like Maria, that's awesome!"
"I can't imagine your brooding tattooed ass pretending to be Julie Andrews." Camila giggles.
"Okay, now you're mocking me." Lauren deadpans.
"No! I'm not! Tell me more." Camila smiles as she snuggles with Mr. Snuggles. "Tell me your favorite things."
Lauren closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, her eyes are shining brightly and her smile wide and genuine.
"The clouds, the smell of old books, Camren, Nala, fresh linens, sunsets..." You. Lauren sighs wistfully. "But you know what's better than those?"
"Pizza?"
Lauren shakes her head and laughs. "Sharing those things with a favorite someone. Imagine reading books with someone in bed, in freshly-washed sheets, cuddling with Nala, taking turns feeding Camren... And sharing a sunset while making plans of watching the next sunrise... Imagine how nice that feels like."
"That does sound nice..." Just listening to Lauren's voice lulls Camila to a deep sense of comfort and contentment, and she wouldn't say this out loud but while Lauren has been painting that picture, she couldn't help but imagine herself doing that with her. It's weird. Maybe it's just the calm moment they're sharing, it means nothing. "Tell me more, Lauren."
And Lauren does tell her more. They talk about random stuff: Lauren tells her about her other favorite movies, how she has become fascinated with Asian cinema and old black and white films and trashy horror B-movies; she talks about her favorite authors and how she would love to write her own book one day; she describes all her favorite paintings she has seen, and that time when she hooked up with an up and coming local artist and he painted her nude (faceless, of course, although her tattoos are a dead giveaway to people who personally knew her) which has become the main attraction of his most recent exhibit.
Camila listens attentively. That's one thing that Lauren has noticed the most. Camila actually listens, she asks follow-up questions, she never looked bored. It's like Lauren is the single most important thing in this world, and Camila wants nothing else to look at other than her. For once, Lauren feels cherished.
If Lauren has ever doubted her attraction to Camila before, this time she's sure she might have fallen just a bit more. Because while Lauren finds most people deplorable and undeserving of her time or attention, she craves for that special companionship. It's what she daydreams about, it's what she wants. To find someone she can talk to about anything, trivial or philosophical, someone who knows how to listen and who can also stimulate her mind.
She's already picturing herself and Camila lying on the hood of her car (a thick blanket underneath, of course -- she wouldn't want to scratch Camus), under the starlit sky, the cold breeze gently caressing their skin because they'll be parked in her favorite spot up north overlooking the city, the moon casting a soft glow on them. They have cold beer in their hands, or wine, if Camila prefers that, and they simply converse. How serene and fulfilling is that?
So, that's what been playing on Lauren's mind all the while she's been talking and observing Camila's face full of animated expressions.
And when it's Camila's turn to share, Lauren is equally captivated, hanging on to every word she says, eyes widening with every bit of information Camila reveals: how she once peed herself during a One Direction concert; how she cried like a child the first time she heard Ed Sheeran live; she tells her about her sister, Sofi, and how adorable she is; she tells her about that time Dinah convinced her to jump off a cliff and her butt felt like it was smacked by a thousand-ton steel paddle when she hit the water, and how she cried like a baby afterwards feeling like has spent one night inside Christian Grey's Red Room of Pain, and how Dinah laughed at her as she videotaped her crying and insisting that she most likely damaged eighty percent of her hymen at that moment, and vowing to never do that again.
"So you have a tendency to uncontrollably pee yourself or cry like a bitch in the most random situations?" Lauren laughs. "Sexy."
"Only on special occasions." Camila defends herself.
Lauren would sometimes stay quiet, as if wanting to say something important, but she'll just let out a big sigh, and proceed to talk about her favorite books, and Camila will make a mental note to read them when she has time. They talk about music, and Lauren surprisingly doesn't laugh when Camila gushes about her favorite pop stars, and they both promise to give each other's favorite artists a listen.
"One day, I wanna spontaneously buy a plane ticket and take the first flight out to a country I've always wanted to visit with someone I love." Camila says dreamily.
And Lauren wants to tell her that she has a similar dream. Basically the same desire to travel the world with the person she loves -- like, backpack through Europe, live from hostel to hostel, take lots of pictures, absorb the culture, take a bite of each city they visit, and just let loose.
But she only nods her head and adds that fact to her mental list of what Camila likes.
They don't even notice the time. The only indication that hours have passed is that Camila's eyes keep on drooping despite her attempts to blink her sleepiness away, or how many times Lauren has to swallow back her yawns (mostly unsuccessful, of course), and yet neither of them refuses to say goodnight.
"Hey, Lauren?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry for inviting Shawn to our dinner thingie... I didn't even consider how awkward it will be for you coz you don't even know him. I was just too --"
"It was a date." Lauren clarifies.
"Huh?"
"The dinner thingie was me asking you out on a date."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry for not making it clear."
"Oh my god, now I feel like a jerk."
"It's fine."
"You asked me out on a date?" Camila asks incredulously.
Who is this Lauren? Is this the same one who kept on walking out whenever the subject of that "non-kiss" was brought up? The same one who kept on "bullying" her? The same one who just brought a girl two nights ago and made out with her in front of Camila?
"Are you gonna get back together with Shawn?" Lauren asks, after Camila remains silent. "Or have you already gotten back together?"
Camila sighs. Her mind's racing.
"Unofficially, yes. He asked me to give us another try. He said he'll make it work."
"Is that what you want?"
"I mean, it's always what I've wanted. Shawn is like my forever, you know? Even when we broke up, our parents haven't stopped talking to each other, they believe we'll end up married one day. I mean, what else is there for me? Shawn is it."
Lauren wants to say that she's too naive to think that Shawn is "it" for her, that she's still young and she needs to live her life and open up her world and learn that there's more to love and life than her stupid highschool sweetheart. But then again who is she to tell another person who to love? If Camila thinks that Shawn is the right person for her, then that's her truth and reality.
But Lauren's reality is that she wants Camila. And it won't ever be more than a silly fantasy if she doesn't do something about it.
"I like you, Camz." Lauren breathes out.
It took everything in her to say those words, but now that it's out it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from her shoulders. It's liberating to finally say it. Yes, it makes her nervous as hell, the fact that Camila is still silent, but it doesn't matter what she says. The important thing is that Lauren has said it. She finally stopped running and just did one courageous thing she's been dying to do.
Lauren used to like silence a lot. She actively searches for it: in mountain tops, in a park in the dead of the night, in her bathroom where she loves to think about the mysteries of the cosmos while pooping, on a rooftop while she smokes weed and she pretends that she's on top of a cloud and she's far away from the chaos that is this world. She loves silence, because it allows her to swim in her own thoughts.
Now? Not so much. Because every second that Camila doesn't speak, Lauren's demons wake up one by one to taunt her, to remind her that she's that kind of person who doesn't deserve someone like Camila, that her silence means rejection, and --
"Goodnight, Camila. I-I'm sleepy." Lauren turns her back and closes her eyes tightly as she tries to swallow back hurt and pretend that her pride wasn't crushed.
And it's not like Camila meant to be silent for as long as she did. No, she was just surprised by Lauren's words. It's true that the boundaries of their friendship has always been hazy -- were they frenemies, were they flirting, were they friends? -- and maybe Camila has been drawn to Lauren, for some reason, and Lauren has obviously sent some mixed signals before. But that's all there is to it -- confusion and mixed signals.
And it all boils down to who Camila trusts more, really. Shawn, who has been one of her bestfriends since they were kids, someone who she can trust with her life, someone whom she has shared her first times with, someone she loves? Or Lauren, who is like the total opposite of Camila -- and Shawn for that matter? Lauren who Camila couldn't read, Lauren who pushes her limits, Lauren who's so erratic that Camila doesn't know who she's gonna be dealing with every time she wakes up in the morning. And how can she be sure that Lauren isn't just playing her? Maybe she's bored and she thinks that it's funny to play Camila, add her to her long list of conquests, a notch in her bed post.
Next thing she knows, Lauren is saying goodnight, and Camila knows she has to say something.
As Lauren pretends to be sleeping, subconsciously playing with Nala's ears (a nervous habit), she hears Camila's slippers against the floor and seconds later she feels her bed dip. She almost shudders when she feels Camila touch her shoulder gingerly, as if afraid of Lauren's reaction.
She really is such a gentle creature, Lauren thinks.
"Hey, Lauren, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." Her voice is so soft and child-like, yet at the same time, so husky and mature, and of course, Lauren couldn't be mad. She could never be mad at her, at least, not for a very long time.
So Lauren sits up cross-legged and facing Camila, and tells her that she's not mad.
"I like you, too, Laur... I mean, I enjoy your company a lot -- when you're not bullying me --" she playfully rolls her eyes at that, "but..."
Lauren feels like she has just swallowed a bag full of rocks, and a heavy desperate feeling is now clawing at the pit of her stomach. "But you're still gonna take back Shawn, right? Why waste something that was years in the making for a tiny bit of uncertain attraction?"
Camila nods. "Maybe."
"It's okay, I understand."
And she really does. It's not like she has made it hard for Camila to choose. She's been confusing, at best, and a jerk to her. Of course Camila wouldn't take her seriously.
Normani's words echo inside her head, Sometimes, Lo, to feel the ultimate rush, you need to dive headfirst into the water without knowing if you'll ever be able to come up for air. It's the thrill of not knowing whether your parachute will work or not, and yet you still jump out of the plane. It's the fear of your rope snapping or maybe the rope is too long and your skull breaks open like a watermelon when you bungee jump, but you take the plunge anyway. Why? Because it's the rush of danger, the uncertainty of us making it unscathed, those are the ones we remember the most -- how time seems to slow down and we feel the blood coursing through our veins, and all we can think of is the rush of exhilaration that we won't ever forget. That's what makes everything worth it -- the times we go out of our comfort zone and actually risk something. If you really like Camila, you need to take a risk. Take a chance, and do things without expecting anything in return -- you might die, but you might also experience the best adventure of your life. It's a gamble, yes, and maybe you'll lose, then again maybe you'll hit the jackpot. But you won't win anything if you run away.
Maybe Camila is worth it. Maybe it's time to be a friend first, be a decent person to her, win her affection. Maybe she should stop turning away at the slightest hint of failure. Maybe, she needs to experience how it feels to work hard for something. Maybe, for once, she goes all out.
So, no, she's not mad that Camila wants to choose Scrawn the Prawn, she could be adult about it. But it doesn't mean she wouldn't at least try. Because after she's worked her magic, she bet she won't even remember his name.
And so they end the night with an understanding that all is well between them, and Camila breathes a sigh of relief for not losing her "friend", and Lauren smiles at the lightness in her heart because she knows that even if she loses this game (she would not), she now knows how it feels to stop running and open her heart and just let someone in -- it feels so damn good.
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A/N: okay guys let's talk. I really want to know what you think of TIAC so far. What do you like most about it? It could be your favorite chapters, or characters, or whatever.. Anything. Even the random things. Tell me why you like this story (I'm assuming you like it because you got to read this far lmao). I'm about to write the second arc and I just need to know what my readers like best. Let me know! This is a discussion I need 😘
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How many references did you see? 😛👀
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Also, shout out to that person who commented the previous chapter wondering why Lauren loves Nala so much. I forgot your name, but it inspired me to add a Nala back story to my already pre-written chapter.
And that's why I encourage you guys to comment and share your analysis or feedback. It inspires me to write.
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If you see some inconsistencies, let it slide. I'll edit it once I get the chance, because this is a big chapter and I kept on adding and deleting stuff, randomly changing a bit of story direction, and I don't have the energy to re-read it like thrice so you might see some errors, but I'll polish it soon. Don't be a bitch, I'm doing my best lol.