FORGET YOU LAUREN

CHAPTER 35

At that time: 18 years

Lauren POV

SUBJECT: That damn painting

Dear Lauren,
For the record, the only reason I'm the salutatorian and you're the valedictorian is because you made better grades than me in English. One class. That's it. So, can you please erase that "I'm fucking better than you, Camila " message off your whiteboard now? I'm giving you one more day, and then I'm throwing a rock through your window.

Also, I may need a ride back from graduation if my dad tries to make me get in the car with Stella (What a bitch!) and I'll pay you with four extra cups of that disgusting hot chocolate that you love to drink.

Oh, and... (Truce moment) Four guys have asked me out over the past week and all four have stood me up at the very last minute with bullshit excuses. I have a date with Taylor Jones at Waterstones Café tonight and I'm really hoping that nothing is wrong with me... (Is something wrong with me?)

One day to remove that sign.

Forget You,

Camila

***

SUBJECT: RE: That damn painting

Dear Camila,

There are several reasons that I'm the valedictorian, but for brevity purposes, the main one is: I'm fucking better than you. ☺ From the way you normally throw rocks at my window (and miss), I'm willing to take my chances and leave my sign up.

Sounds like you need a bus pass for after graduation, but if it comes down to that, you can sit in my backseat as one of my real friends—Brody, will be sitting in the front. (I still can't believe Stella got with your Dad so soon...) I'll hold you to that hot chocolate promise.

Truce moment ::: Outside of the fact that you're the worst person I know, nothing is wrong with you. It's break up and pre-college season, so I think everyone is trying to have as much sex as possible. Those guys probably stood you up to fuck someone else. (Full Disclosure: I did the same thing to Emilia a few nights ago, remember?)

The sign stays.

Forget You,

Lauren

***
I PULLED UP TO WATERSTONES Café later that night with a lump of guilt in my throat. Still, I wasn't going to let it distract me from the fact that I needed to get to Camila's date before she did and ensure that he never made it to dinner.

Unknown to her, the red dress she wore to her prom made her the talk of the locker room. Even though I could admit that she looked good that night, I wasn't saying the type of things every other guy at our school was saying. (Especially since she'd gone back to wearing her oversized T-shirts and sweatpants in the days since)

"Who knew Camila Cabello was so fucking sexy?" "I need to hit that before graduation..." "I'd love to slap her ass while letting her ride me..."

That same night, a group of seniors—one from each sporting team, started a bet to see who could fuck her in the shortest amount of time. Their plan was simple and disgusting: Each guy flirts with her at some point after school this week, "before she gets intoLauren Jauregui 's car," and exchange phone numbers. Each guy picks two days out of the week to send text messages and show her attention before asking her on a date. While on the date, flatter her for as long as it takes for you to fuck her. No rules on that. First guy to fuck her wins. Bonus points if you get pictures.

I wasn't supposed to know about the plan at all, but once Camila started telling me that she'd been asked out on multiple dates in a row (by guys I knew were no good for her), I knew something was up.

I'd beat the hell out of the first guy after following him to his house after school. I told him to put an end to this bullshit, but he never got a chance to share my message, as he was still unable to speak.

So, I had to take the rest in my own hands.

I shredded the tires of the cars that belonged to the second and third guys, and they were far more concerned with getting new ones than getting to Camila . The fourth guy cancelled his date hours before, and I was happy that tonight was the last guy in the group, and the last time I had to do this.

I suddenly spotted Taylor walking into Waterstones and got out of my car. I walked inside the café and followed him into the restroom. As he was approaching the stalls, I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Um, yeah?" he asked.

"Are you here for a date with Camila Cabello ?" I asked.

"Yeah." He smiled. "Why?"

I looked him over, realizing that he was too big of a match for me to take by myself, and I knew the only way out of this was to talk shit.

"Well, you should know that um—" I held back a sigh. "Sex with her isn't worth your time."

"Who said anything about sex with her?"

I gave him a blank stare, and he laughed.

"Okay, okay, Lauren ." He held up his hands. "Why isn't she worth my time?"

"Because one, rumor has it that she's been with half the football team at Central High. Two, a few of those guys got crabs within days of me dropping her off at their place and they texted me about it. Three, she threatened to lie on the last guy she willingly slept with the other day when he wouldn't buy her dinner after sex, so I just don't want you or anyone at our school to get caught up in any of her games."

"Whoa...I completely misread her." He let out a breath and shook his head. "Thanks,Lauren . You would know since you live next door to her, huh? I appreciate the heads-up. You know, I was wondering why none of my friends had—" He cleared his throat. "Never-mind. I appreciate it."

He left the restroom, and I leaned against a stall door—grateful that this was finally over.

The door to the stall next to me opened and Camila stepped out.

Dressed in jeans and an oversized tank top, she stepped in front of me and shook her head. "The um..." She paused, her face red and tearstained. "The women's restroom had a super long line and I couldn't wait, so I figured I'd come here. I'm not sure whether I should be happy or upset that I did."

I sighed. "Camila —"

"You're the reason why all my dates haven't shown up?" She looked at me. "Like, that's why you've insisted on getting their names and the restaurants we're supposed to go to? All of that so you can prevent them from talking to me?"

"Something like that..."

"Why would you do this to me?" She cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "Like, how could you say all those things about me? Those lies?"

"It's not what you think."

"It's exactly what I think." She pushed me. "You really do get joy out of making me miserable. I thought we had a truce for the rest of this year?"

"Camila ..." I realized that she probably should know about the bet. "Listen. There's a perfectly good reason for this, I didn't want you to get hurt so—"

"Fuck you, Lauren ." She shoved me again. "You know what? Now you can live up to your whole 'Forget You' bullshit because I can guarantee you that today is the last day I will ever talk to you. I don't care if we go to the same college either. I won't say shit else to you."

"I just did you a huge favor." My blood began to boil. "Like you don't even know how grateful you should be."

"The only thing I know is that you're an asshole and you've done nothing but try to hurt me since the day we met. As a matter of fact—"

"If today is the last day you're going to talk to me, can you start that shit now?" I interrupted her, glaring. "I don't see a point in waiting."

"I need to say my final words first."

"You really don't."

She sucked in a breath and spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. "I hate you, Lauren Jauregui . I fucking hate you and I have since we had the misfortune of meeting. And I swear on my life that this is the last day we'll ever speak."

"I'm fucking counting on it."