Until Saturday, the 17th of November, everything was ordinary, everything was quiet, everything was everything and everywhere and nothing and nowhere. Mama had been tired from working long nights and grueling days that she barely looked at Camila when she came home in the morning, and all Camila could do was make her coffee and give her a breakfast of eggs beside a croissant she'd bought from the local bakery and a kiss on the cheek, no longer able to feel any anger towards Mama when she sacrificed her everything for her only child left. She had suggested for Mama that she should find a friend or even a significant other to help with all the things that got lost in the early hours of the morning, but she was, despite her insistence that moving away from where something had happened would separate reality from memories, still too in love with her late husband to think of anyone else.
On that Sunday, both Camila and her mom were home together, sleeping in their separate, small bedrooms, for once. Camila had woken up first, at 10:30 in the morning, to a series of texts that had been sent hours later. A few were from Lila, a lavender-haired girl from her English class whom she'd made friends with in the past few days, but more were from Shawn. Since the middle of October when they 'reconciled', if that even meant anything about them, they'd spoken about their favorite songs and books and poems behind the curtains, looking like they knew every inch of each other. The glances and stares between them sometimes made Camila think they could get to know every inch of each other, but no matter how deep into the night they spoke, it was never about what she privately wished it could be about.
Walking into the small kitchen, she first read the few texts from Lila, about their English project they were working on together, and then she read the ones from Shawn. His texts were longer, as she'd noticed and grown fond of, and this time many. He was asking her if she wanted to hang out at the library that afternoon, before going to his house and watching a couple movies and catching up with Aaliyah, who apparently, after the few minutes they'd spoken to each other, missed her.
Heartbeat picking up, Camila's mind pieced together the scene in her mind. Just them, just friends, at the library once more. Almost every late afternoon since the cool breeze and light rain of mid-October, she had gone to the same mahogany table in the darkened, empty library. Occasionally just for a few minutes to find a book and leave for home as soon as possible, but more often for hours, whether to read or complete schoolwork or to reminisce on the memories that were so close she could see their essences floating in the air.
Shawn and her hadn't gotten together outside of school since October. Now, it seemed as if what Camila thought they would have to build up to was happening all of it, everything, all at once, like he had been waiting for this for forever. What if he had?
She wandered back to her bed. The two of them had been so perfect around each other for weeks. His light humor, attentive listening, and soft, starry-eyed stares made talking to him like talking to a friend she'd known for years. It was, even for someone like her whose anxiety worsened when she felt the need to talk to someone, easy to talk with him. Shawn seemed to feel the same way about her, as a perfect goddamn smile that lit her heart like the moon always graced his features when she sat down beside him during their shared final period of the day. He would show her pictures of his vinyl and cassette tape collections he'd gotten from his dad, who she learned had played electric guitar in college, and send her playlists with long titles like he used to. He always read so carefully when she showed him parts of her favorite books and poems, although she knew he wasn't used to reading into anything so deeply like that.
It took her the better half of half an hour to realize she'd gotten too caught up in her thoughts to respond and left him on read. She replied shakily, 'I'm free to come- maybe you can show me your vinyls and cassettes and all that stuff.'
YOU ARE READING
Admit It
Romance𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. Tattoos, denim jackets, soft curls that light golden under the evening sun. Caramel skin, pencil on paper, silent smiles that hold back unspoken promises. She moves into the city with the ghosts of the mistakes...
