FORGET YOU LAUREN

CHAPTER 25

Track 18: Don't Blame Me (4:27)
Camila POV
SUBJECT: URGENT. MEETING Needed ASAP.

Hey Camila,

I hope your first semester on land is going well. (Are you missing anything about Semester at Sea yet?)

Something important has come to my attention, so is there any way you could meet me during my office hours when I return from leave next month?

PS—Congratulations on both of your pieces winning top honors at the Rose Awards.

Arnold Hinton

Academic Advisor

***

SUBJECT: RE: URGENT. Meeting Needed ASAP.
MR. HINTON,

My first semester on land is going great. (Not missing anything at all ☺ )

Can we do the first Friday of next month at 3:00?

PS—Thank you very much.
***

I REFRESHED MY EMAIL, waiting for his reply, and a text message from Lauren appeared on my screen.

Lauren : I think I deserve to be paid for my services since you finally got your driver's license...

Me: I'm low on cash...Will you accept my mouth and a blow job?

Lauren : Depends on if you'll give them to me while I'm driving my car or not...

"ARE YOU GOING TO SPEND this entire dinner looking at your phone,Karla?" My Dad's voice made me look up. "You haven't said a single word for the past twenty minutes."

"My apologies." I set my phone down and sighed.

I'd managed to avoid spending more than a few minutes with him since the semester started, and before I could call to reinitiate contact on my own terms, he'd shown up at the house today and insisted on whisking me away to a "family dinner." The only problem was, the woman sitting between us would never be considered family to me.

Never.

"I love your house,Camila," his wife said. "And I think it's really cute that you and Lauren are cordial enough now that you can live under the same roof. I would've never thought the two of you would be on good terms."

"Dad, can you pass the salt, please?"

He passed it to me.

"So, um..." His wife smiled. "Did you two keep in contact while you were away at sea, or did you just run into her when you returned?"

I salted my mashed potatoes and stuck a spoonful into my mouth.

"Karla." My dad softly scolded me. "Stella is trying to talk to you."

"Is she? What did she ask?"

"She asked if you and Lauren Jauregui kept in contact while you were away at sea, or did you run into her when you returned?"

"We kept in contact while I was at sea." I sipped my wine, avoiding Stella's fake smile.

"So, she kept up with your port schedule and sent you letters?" Stella asked.

I picked up a knife and smeared butter on a roll.

"Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao ..." My father set his napkin on the table. "I'm not sure why you insist on being disrespectful to my wife, but—"

"Because she's disrespectful to me!" I snapped. "You two bringing me here of all places is also disrespectful to me. Why would you even do that?"

His face paled as he looked down at The Blue Lake Café's menu. Then he clasped his wife's hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't even realize... It still doesn't change how rude you've been to her over the years, and I would appreciate it if you at least tried to accept this."

"Let's go ahead and talk about why that's never going to happen, shall we?" I felt my blood boiling. "I believe she took on that 'wife' title about sixteen months after your first wife, my mom, died right?"

"Karla..." There was hurt in his eyes. "Karla, please don't do this right now."

"Please don't do what?" I shrugged. "Ask how the hell you could marry my mother's best friend less than two years after she was gone? I'm sure that's not something your daughter should ever dare to ask." I looked Stella straight in her eyes. "You were my godmother. How the hell do you sleep at night?"

She looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

"If you're expecting me to ever accept the two of you being together," I said. "You're wasting your goddamn time."

"Camila , look." Stella swallowed. "I know it looked as if it was fast at the time, but if you would just listen for a few seconds."

"I'll never be interested in a single word you have to say." I stood to my feet and looked at my Dad. "The next time you want to 'catch up' with me over dinner, don't bring me here, and don't bring her either."

I walked away before he could respond, rushing past the parking lot and down the street. I made it to the café on the corner and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

It was no use. I'd inherited part of my mother's "hot-head" personality, and I knew it was going to take me a long time before I felt okay again.

I started making my way to a bus stop and felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. A text message from Lauren .

Lauren : How is the dinner going?

Me: It's great ☺

Lauren : You used to only send emojis when you were upset...How is it really going?

I didn't answer.

I continued walking to the bus stop, feeling tears prick my eyes with every step. When I made it to the shelter, I looked at the schedule and realized the next bus wouldn't be coming for thirty minutes.

As I was slumping onto the bench,Lauren's blue convertible pulled up next to the stop.

"Something told me to get dinner over here so I could be close by," she said, smiling. "You want to get in?"

I stood up and got into her car.

Her lips met mine before I could buckle my seatbelt, and she looked into my eyes. "How long did you last?"

"Twenty minutes."

"That's five minutes longer than I originally thought," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Would you like to bend over my lap and generously caress my cock with your mouth for the ride home, then?"

"Seriously?" I looked over at her and laughed. "That's the real reason you're close by, isn't it? Because you wanted a blow job while you drove?"

"Of course not." She smirked. "I was close by because I care about your emotional needs."

"Sure." I rolled my eyes and unzipped her pants. "That's a first."

"It isn't." She kissed me before I could unbuckle her belt. "I always have."