Best of the Best

Chapter 6: Bucatini

Camila was so far out of her element, she'd fallen off the periodic table. She was fairly certain she was at a Michelin star restaurant wearing a pair of jeans, while Thomas was occupied with a colouring book, and the chef prepared him his favourite: pasta with butter and parmesan.

Lauren was sipping wine, seemingly at ease with the situation, though occasionally glancing over her menu to look across their secluded table. "Have you decided?"

Camila chewed her bottom lip, aware of the eyes on her, as she tried to figure it out. Understanding all the words on the menu would certainly help. She took a sip of her water, and fidgeted. "I, umm... I'm not sure I know what all of these things are," she admitted, looking down at the table, eyeing her assortment of cutlery wearily. "Maybe you could help me. I'm sorry."

Lauren reached across the table, resting her hand on Camila's forearm. "Don't be sorry. There's nothing to apologize for."

Camila laid her palm flat on the table, scared any movement would cause Lauren to pull away. "I'm just not really, you know...um, used to places this fancy," she said, eyes still down. "I don't want- I've probably already embarrassed myself."

Lauren rubbed her thumb over Camila's arm. "Why do you think that?"

Camila shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "There's more cutlery on this table than I own," she mumbled, with a watery chuckle.

"Look at me," Lauren insisted. Camila looked up, doing her best to meet Lauren's eyes. "You're here because Thomas and I want you to be, and despite whatever objections you're thinking of, there's nowhere you don't belong and you're certainly not an embarrassment. Am I understood?"

Camila nodded.

Lauren looked her over. "More importantly do you believe me?"

Camila looked away.

Lauren pursed her lips and hummed. "We'll work on that," she said, giving Camila's arm one last squeeze before taking her hand away. "And you want the bucatini," she added, with a warm, reassuring smile.

"Yeah!" Thomas exclaimed, clearing some of the emotion from the table.

"Yeah?" Camila asked him, relaxing slightly.

"Thomas is a pasta aficionado," Lauren said, catching a crayon before it rolled off the edge of the table.

Camila smiled. "So what's a bucatini, buddy?"

"S'ghetti with hole," he said, looking up from his colouring.

Camila turned her menu towards him. "You gonna help me pick my lunch?"

Thomas nodded, scrambling down from his chair and into Camila's lap. "This," he said, pointing.

"Oh, I think that's a salad, bud. I don't really do salad."

"This," he repeated.

"What's a guan-ci-a-le?" Camila attempted to pronounce.

Thomas played with Camila's spoon. "I dunno."

Camila laughed. "I thought you were going to help me?"

Lauren laughed as she sat back. "It's the opposite of salad," she said, smiling. "But I still say go with the bucatini. The bolognese here is unbelievable. You can pick off the rapini, if it's too green for you. I would prefer if you ate it though, seeing as you are now my son's hero. I might get less complaints if he sees you eating your greens."

Camila laughed, tickling Thomas' side. "You not eating your veggies mister?"

Thomas giggled, and squirmed. "No!"