Viridescent Flares

5

"O-okay." Once it left the green eyed girl's mouth, I felt another tinge of excitement with a mix of nervousness.

"Okay?" I repeated, not seeming to believe what she said. "It's fine with you?"

"Yes," she answered almost immediately. "Well, you said you wanted my help and frankly, as much as I'm surprised about this, I would gladly help you. Not only for the band though. I really wanted to help you."

"Thanks." I offered her a small smile before an awkward silence fell between us. "Um, I'll leave you to that then. Good night, Lauren."

"Good night, y/n." She nodded, opening her door and disappearing behind it.

I sprinted down to Camila's room after getting some clothes. All the walls I've built up for how many months are once again brought down by Lauren effortlessly. The girls, they've been trying so hard, but with only Lauren's eyes I'm a goner. Is this how whipped I am for her? No. I shouldn't be thinking like this. She's just a friend now. She have moved on from me—I'm certain of that.

"Camila!" I nearly squealed, bursting in the Cuban's room and shutting the door close once I got inside.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed, holding her hand in front of her chest. She was seating on her bed with a book in her hand, back resting on the headboard. "What's wrong with you?! You know how easily I get scared!"

"I'm sorry," I apologized, walking towards her bed and jumping on it. "Lauren agreed on having a coffee with me tomorrow."

I said it so fast that she showed a confused look. Her eyes grew wide when she took in what I said and dropped the book on the bed. God, we're acting like teenagers who just got asked for a dance in prom by their crush.

"Really? Oh my God, that's amazing! That's great, y/n." I smiled when she tackled me into a hug, patting my back proudly. "That means you're finally convinced that you deserve to be happy?" She asked when she pulled away.

"I think so." I shrugged, putting my clothes down the bed. "I realized that I'm getting tired of being sad, too. And I don't want to see all of you getting affected because of my actions."

When I looked at her, her brown eyes were showing warmth and tenderness, as if she was a mom of a kid who has just scored in his soccer game.

"I'm proud of you," she spoke, a genuine smile plastered on her face. "A year ago—"

"Hey, wait," I stopped her, knowing where would her statement go. "I haven't done anything yet. It's just progress that I'm making."

"I'm proud of that, too." She giggled. "But honestly though, I'm happy that you've realized things."

"Thanks, Mila. Also for helping me and not giving up," I said, reaching for her hand. It's been a long time since I touched her hand in appreciation like this. It feels like everything is coming back. "Thank you for being patient with me—for sticking up with me through thick and thin."