Are You Gonna Kiss Me?

Chapter - 13

Lauren P.O.V:

I throw myself onto the sink top, bracing my hands on the edge of it. Panting heavily.

Out of all the things that could actually make it to the list of my turn-ons, somehow, 'Mami' said in a Spanish accent with the inappropriate pronunciation made it?!

Why?!

Why that?!?!?!?!

WHY CABELLO?!?!?!

Look, I know, it's not a secret that my body is reacting to her in a way that I don't want it to be reacting at all. But, as of now, it seems to me that everything she does, or says, or even fucking moves, it's impacting me catastrophically.

I've been embarrassed in front of her enough times to count. I don't want it happening again and again to the point where I can't even be in the same room as her without thinking about dropping my panties, for fuck's sake!

I hear the soft click of the restroom door closing behind someone entering.

The person silently moves to the sink closest to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible, but failing when they decided to wash their hands. The rush of water from their tap makes me look up a little in instinct.

Breath hitches in my throat as I realise it is Cabello washing her hands.

My knuckles and fingers grow pale as ever from clutching the sink too hard.

See, life according to me is simple. You keep up a routine. You maintain it. You follow it. You make sure it doesn't get disrupted. You move forward. Slight changes in your routine are acceptable. But, you know what you should never, ever, allow into your routine?

Camila fucking Cabello.

The moment she enters your life, like the way she entered the restroom now, all quiet and sneaky, she ruins your routine. Completely shreds it to a million pieces. Creates a new one which has nothing to do with who you are. Changes the pace, the time and worst of all – your interests. You just can't help it. The moment she's in, you're done for. She controls it.

Just like my body, on fire like Ghost fucking Rider, but all over. Like Jack-Jack in the fucking Incredibles. Like Captain fucking Marvel-

I could go on!

But, the point here is that, she is in total and absolute control. No matter how much I snap out or resist her. She is in absolute control.

She passes behind me to the tissue stand and wipes her wet hands. I subtly look at it through the dirty restroom mirror, riddled with all kinds of graffiti.

The reaction that my body gives is instantaneous. I grow stiff. My breathing becomes shallow, with my eyes glazing over. All the bullshit.

She crumples up the tissues and I see her wrist and forearms straining with the effort.

It's just tissue. Why does she have to crumple it that hard?! It's ridiculous.

My eyes move up to her face and I immediately see that she's in a dilemma of sorts.

Before I could decipher what the dilemma is about, she disappears from my line of vision to somewhere behind me.

Let's take George for example. When we were dating, he always finds an excuse to make out with me. Always. And I always got grossed out by it. By how sloppy and disgusting it actually was. To make matters worse, he kept on suggesting for us to try out the lame BDSM stuff. It's lame cuz he wanted to try it; and I didn't. And that dumb moron couldn't even take a hint.