FORGET YOU LAUREN

CHAPTER 48

Back then: 18 years old
CAMILA POV

Whenever I dreamed about my senior prom, I always saw it unfolding in one long, this-is-unrealistic-but-it-can-totally-happen type of scene.

It starts with me stepping into a brightly lit ballroom with a gorgeous tuxedoed guy at my side—the type of guy who is capable of making every girl jealous. While everyone stares at us in utter awe, he kisses me like his life depends on it. Within mere seconds, all of the attention in the room is owned by us.

Seizing the moment, we take to the dance floor and earn a rousing round of applause when he dips me low and brings me up for one final, breathtaking spin.

And for the rest of the night (& the first time in my high school career), I'm not invisible. I'm more than 'that girl who lives next door to Lauren .' More than a nobody.

At the end of this dream, my date always helps me into his sleek black car and drives me to The Blue Lake Café where we dance one final time under the twinkling lights. Right when I least expect it, he kisses the hell out of me and leaves me utterly breathless. (In the exact way that my mom always said a 'perfect prom kiss' should be.) And the moment my perfect date drops me off at home, I throw my amazing night in Lauren's face since I know her sense of a 'date' will never compare.

Welp. So much for that fucking dream...

At the rate that my reality was going tonight, I was slowly accepting that my dream of an ideal prom was too far-fetched. "Make-up" prom or not, I was starting to wish that 'someone' had never pulled the fire alarm at the previous prom, that I'd stayed at home.

"You're still standing on the wall?" Ashley Chambers, one of the popular minions, stepped in front of me with a smirk on her lips. "I mean, it's been over an hour at this point. I just can't believe that no guy here has asked to dance with you..." She looked me up and down. "It's almost like your pretty red dress isn't enough to hide the fact that you're still one of the biggest losers at this school. How sad."

"Is it?" I narrowed my eyes at her. "Because I think the fact that your date has no idea that you've slept with half the football team is far sadder."

She sucked in a deep breath as her jaw dropped to the floor.

"Something wrong, babe?" Her date grabbed her waist from behind, and then his eyes met mine.

"Well, hello..." He let her go and extended his hand to me. "I'm Tyler."

"And she's nobody." Ashely swatted his hand and shot a look at me. "That's why she's here alone." She led him away, and he glanced over his shoulder, looking me up and down one last time.

Sighing, I stepped away from the wall and made my way toward the long table of ice sculptures and drinks on the far wall. For whatever reason, the senior class had voted to have all of the ice sculptures carved into the shapes of old school cars and record players.

"I think this was a cool idea," I said to the attendant, my former history classmate who was wearing a pretty pink dress. "Don't you?"

She rolled her eyes and stamped my wristband, motioning for me to get away from her.

As I approached the punch bowl and picked up a cup, the group of girls who were in line ahead of me set down their drinks and walked away. Seconds later, the other students walked away as well, leaving me alone. Freezing me out all over again.

I couldn't get a single person here to talk to me, and even though I never really fit in, I'd honestly never felt like a pariah.

Refusing to let anyone see that they were getting the best of me, I tossed back a few cups of punch. I started to make my way to the dance floor, but with every step forward I took, a few couples stepped back and off of the floor. A part of me wanted to believe that this was all in my head, but by the time I was under the glittering banner that hung at the midway point, most of the couples were making their way off the floor.

What did I do?

I took a few steps back, and as they all stared at me with their angry faces, I gave the hell up. I rushed off the dance floor and into the hotel's hallway. Ducking into the closest bathroom, I swallowed the rising lump in my throat and let the tears roll down my face.

I couldn't figure out what I'd done to be treated like this. Especially when nothing had happened this week at school. Some of the same people who'd always given me a stock, "Hey," or "Hello," in the hallways were refusing to make eye contact with me tonight.

Slowly twirling in front of the mirror, I tried to see if there was a stain I'd missed. That, or some type of 'Forget Camila ever existed tonight' sign that'd been secretly taped onto my back, but there was nothing. The only new things on me were the tears.

My dreamy red dress was being wasted on a nightmare, and I was certain that the moment I got home, I would be stuffing it into a bag to give away to someone else.

The door suddenly opened, and one of my art classmates stepped inside. She took one long look at me and rolled her eyes, then she walked out without a single word.

What the...

I walked over to the door and opened it, prepared to yell after her. I wanted to ask what was behind all the hatred toward me, but she was long gone.

Far ahead, in the ballroom, I could see everyone cheering and clapping. It only took me a few seconds to realize why.

Miss. Popular, a.k.a. Lauren Jauregui , was walking through the entry doors with Shelby on her arm. She parted through her adoring minions like a God, and I rolled my eyes.

Still, I forced myself to walk back into the room to get a better look at her.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, she looked sexy as hell tonight. I wasn't sure if it was the way the black suit perfectly fit her muscles, the way the soft lights were hitting her bright green eyes, or the way she was smiling her perfect set of pearly whites, but she looked way hotter than usual. (Well, "hot" for the first time to me. She was still 'just Lauren ' in my book.)

Shelby's eyes met mine, and she immediately turned away from me.

I knew it was only a matter of time before Lauren did the same, so I sucked up what was left of my dignity and headed to the elevator bank.

The doors glided open, and I stepped onto the car.

Just as they were beginning to shut, an arm slipped between them to force them apart.

"Where the hell are you going?" Lauren stepped inside, smiling. "I'm not sure if the guy who pulled the fire alarm would appreciate you bailing on round two of our prom."

"I'm going home, Lauren ." I hit the 'door close' button, and the elevator began to move toward the lobby. "The place where people don't treat me like a pariah or ignore me for no reason."

"What?" She hit the emergency stop button, bringing the car to a halt. "That's what you think is happening in there?"

"That's exactly what's happening,Lauren ." I rolled my eyes. "You should probably go back to the party and stop talking to me. Otherwise, I'm sure they'll start treating you like a pariah, too."

"I highly doubt that." She smiled. "No one can treat Miss. Popular like a pariah. That's one of the main benefits of being me."

"Thank you for reminding me exactly why I hate you."

"You're welcome." She laughed and dabbed my eyes with her handkerchief. "I think you're reading this night in the wrong way,Camila . Like, I can guarantee you that—"

"Can you please just let me go home and be alone?" I felt my voice cracking. "Like, I know you're trying to pretend like you're my friend right now, but I'd honestly prefer if you treated me like your enemy. Like you usually do."

Silence.

With her eyes on mine, I hit the button and the car began to move again.

"Fair enough." She let out a sigh. "Since you're leaving and don't have a car, how are you planning to get home?"

"I'm going to call my Dad. Worst case, I'll call Stella."

"No, don't bother," she said. "Let me take you."

"Ha! Like Shelby would ever be okay with you leaving her here."

"Shelby is quite pissed at me right now, so I'm sure she'll appreciate a break." She pulled her keys from her pocket. "Want me to take you home, or not?"

"Absolutely."


****************************
The ride in Lauren's car was a blur, punctuated by her leaning over and wiping away my tears here or there as she drove.

Right when she was supposed to make a right on Fountain Avenue, toward our block, she made a left instead. She didn't make a quick turn on any of the back routes, though. She just kept driving.

A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of The Blue Lake Café and rolled down the windows. She turned on her headlights, so they were shining against the dock of the pier, and then she turned on the song I always played whenever I'd twirled around my bedroom in this prom dress.

Walking over to my side, she opened my door and helped me out of the car.

"Alright," she said. "Your dream about how your prom night is supposed to go is still the dumbest and most unbelievable shit I've ever heard, but I can help you with this part. I'll take a few pictures if you want, before driving you home."

"You didn't have to stop here." I smiled, not wanting to admit that I was happy she'd remembered my ridiculous fantasy. That my night wasn't a complete bust. "Thank you,Lauren ."

"For what?"

"For this and the small things you do to help me not forget my mom anytime soon," I said, feeling tears prick my eyes. "It shouldn't mean anything coming from you, of course, but it kind of does."

"It kind of does?"

"Yes, kind of." I smiled. "I didn't stutter. Anyway, what did Shelby get mad at you for this time?"

"Nothing major," she said. "I was just too honest with her, that's all."

"How is being too honest a bad thing?"

"If it has anything to do with you..."

I shrugged. "What do you mean?"

A slow smile spread across her lips and she took a small step back.

"She asked me if I liked her dress better than yours," she said. "But before I could answer that, she asked me—verbatim, if I thought that she looked better than Camila Cabello tonight."

"Sure, she did." I laughed. "You told her yes, right?"

"I would've," she said, looking into my eyes. "But she told me to be one hundred percent honest."

Silence.

My heart suddenly raced in my chest, and I tried to quickly change the subject—to lighten the mood, but I couldn't get a single word to fall from my lips.

"Can we have a truce for a few minutes,Camila ?" she asked.

I nodded, still speechless.

"Between you and me, pretty much every fucking guy who was at the prom tonight had his eyes on you. You were hands down, the most beautiful girl there. You were also the best dressed."

"Don't try to flatter me." I felt my cheeks heating. "If that's even halfway true, how do you explain the fact that no guy asked me to dance? Not one."

She laughed. "Maybe it was too big of a risk to do so. Maybe they didn't want to get yelled at by their jealous dates. Take my word for it," she said. "I got numerous text messages the moment you stepped into that ballroom. Everyone was looking at you."

I shook my head, not wanting to believe her, but the look in her eyes told me that she wasn't lying.

"What did the text messages say?" I asked. "And don't you think that if they were looking at me, that at least one guy would've offered to dance with me?"

She didn't answer my questions. Instead, she moved to her car and turned on the speaker system. Within seconds, a slow song began to play.

Walking over to me, she extended her hand. "I'll dance with you. Out of extreme pity, of course."

"Of course." I rolled my eyes. "I'll pass."

"Okay, not pity. Maybe it's so my prom night doesn't end without a dance either."

"You can go back and dance with Shelby."

"I'd rather wait a while before even thinking about that." She held out her hand again. "Are you going to dance with me, or not?"

I hesitated, and she laughed.

She slipped her arms around my waist and pulled me close before I could reject her offer. Then she started swaying me to the slow beat of the music, and I followed her lead.

Song after song, we stared at each other—never losing rhythm as we matched step for step. In the middle of my favorite song, she slid her right hand from around me and gently clasped my fingers—allowing me to twirl and spin back into her.

"You know that this dance never happened, right?" I asked as a new song started.

"Of course." She smiled. "I have no idea what dance you're talking about."

"Good. You should also know that I'm not sleeping with you afterward."

"I've told you that I don't fuck virgins." She suddenly dipped me, holding me low for several seconds. "Seeing as though you'll probably be one until you're eighty years old, I don't think we'll ever have to worry about that."

We both laughed, and she brought me back up.

She held me close for the next two songs, stopping at every chorus to spin me away and bring me back into her. She kept her eyes on mine, and I couldn't look away from her if I tried.

For some strange reason, I wanted her to kiss me right here and now. To take me down against the pier and own my mouth with hers.

Snap out of it, Camila . It's Lauren . Just Lauren .

The sounds of the latest song softened, and I cleared my throat. "You know, I'm starting to wonder how Shelby feels about you leaving her at the prom alone. I'm sure she'll find a way to make a bunch of drama about it the moment you go back."

She stopped swaying me, completely letting me go. "Shelby is literally the last thing on my mind right now."

"Really? Then what are you thinking about?"

She didn't answer, she just stared at me.

Before I knew it, her lips were pressed against mine, and my arms were wrapped around her neck.

With our mouths greedily fighting for control, she stumbled backward onto the hood of her car—pulling me right on top of her. She was kissing me like she needed me, like this was the last kiss she'd ever get, and I melted into her.

Letting her take the lead, I moaned as she caressed my hips, as she slowly tugged at the zipper on the side of my dress. I tightened my grip on her hair as she sucked my bottom lip into her mouth, as she gently bit down on it.

"Lauren ..." I whispered.

As she was deepening our kiss, I felt her cock hardening against my thigh. My skin was heating under the command of her delicate touches, and I couldn't help but moan against her lips.

I felt more turned on than ever, more turned on than when I'd been with anyone else.

I didn't want her to ever stop kissing me, to ever stop showing me that I had this type of effect on her.

Moving her hand up to my head, she loosened the elastic band from around my bun and let my hair fall to my shoulders.

"Camz ..." she said softly.

"Yes?"

She didn't answer. She started kissing me again, but it didn't last as long this time.

It was cut short by an abrupt stop of the music. Then the sound of the most annoying bell chime ringtone I'd ever heard cut through the air. The ringtone she'd selected for Shelby.

Lauren slowly let me go, and I stumbled backward—stunned at what the hell had just happened. At how, in that one moment, if she'd attempted to take things a bit further, I might've let her.

What the hell was that? And where the hell did that come from?

Keeping her eyes on mine, she sat up a bit and answered her phone. Then I heard a raspy female voice coming through his speakers.

"Where the hell are you, Lauren ?" Shelby shouted. "And why the hell aren't you running back to apologize for what you said? Like, I've given you a full hour to get your shit together, and you have yet to say sorry for making me so fucking mad! Do I need to go home with someone else after tonight's prom? Is that what you want?"

She stared at me as Shelby continued to rant. Then she slowly moved closer—pressing her forehead against mine and running her fingers through my hair.

I felt my heart racing a mile a minute, felt the sudden urge to press my lips against her again. I was confused and aroused all at once, and I didn't want to think about any potential consequences; I just wanted to go back to where we were sixty seconds ago.

"Lauren !" Shelby's voice came through her phone's speaker again. "Lauren , give me the apology I deserve right now, and tell me when you're coming back to pick me up. Lauren ?"

Without answering any of her questions, she ended the call and turned off her phone.

"Since this night never happened..." she said, still running her fingers through my hair. "Do you want to spend the rest of it with me?"

"Lauren Jauregui ..." I swallowed. "Are you seriously insinuating sex right now?"

"No." Her lips curved into a smile. "I'm seriously insinuating dinner."

"Oh." I nodded. "That'd be nice. What about letting me drive us there?"

"Hell no," she said, laughing—breaking whatever spell we were previously under. She stepped back, and I couldn't help but laugh with her.

Walking over to my side of the car, she opened the door and waited for me to take a seat. "I'll let you pick the restaurant. Nothing too nice, though."

"Why not?" I buckled my seatbelt. "If you were planning to take Shelby to someplace amazing, I think you can afford to take me."

"I was planning to take her to a cheap pancake spot," she said. "That, or a fast food place. Even though she's throwing a fit right now, you know damn well that we really don't care about each other like that. She just wants me to play along and act like I do."

"Of course." I laughed. "I don't think you really care about anyone."

"I do care about someone." She shut my door and walked over to her side. Putting the car in gear, she drove onto the road.

"Oh yeah?" I said, not wanting to let that subject go. "Who is this 'anyone' you care about all of a sudden?"

She looked over at me and shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Are you sure?" I playfully punched her shoulder. "Try me."

"I just tried to..." she said under her breath, and then she turned up the radio. "Which restaurant are we going to?"