Handwritten (One Shot Collection)

Eight Ways to Say I Love You

"I'm right here. I fell in love a long time ago, and I'm not going anywhere." 

~ 1 ~

The bottom of the glass made a satisfying sound as it came in contact with the fake marble counter. She hadn't meant to nearly break the glassware, maybe it was just the adrenaline from old timey movies and sappy country songs that made bourbon look so badass. Moving the shot glass to the side, Camila took a once-used slice of paper towel and mopped up the remnants, crumpling the single ply and tossing it into the sink.

Two more shots of burning sweetness, and she was gripping the counter. The room was spinning like a six flags attraction, her eyes heavy and insides beginning to turn to gel. With a stumble over to the phone, Camila grabbed the cordless receiver, only to drop it lazily to the cracked tile below.

She sighed, drunkenly dropping to her knees and picking the device up once more, pressing a few buttons and holding it up to her ear. No one used landlines anymore, and for a good reason.

The dial tone droned through the small speaker, crackling full of old fashioned static as a reminder of simpler times. Pulse racing, Camila listened to the three-second outgoing ring, sliding to the ground and leaning back against the base of the kitchen counter. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes and feeling her body sink away.

There was no answer. Naturally, it was the middle of the day and the brunette wasn't surprised. She smiled as the outgoing message played, and that angelic voice made even the 20th century telephone quality sound like heaven on earth.

At the sound of the beep, Camila sighed, waiting a few moments before she recorded her message.

"I love you." She mumbled, a smile spreading over her face. She knew no one could see her, she knew she was alone, but she didn't care.

"I love you..." Camila said again. "I..love..." Her words trailed off, slurred and lazy as the bourbon took full effect. "Fuck, Iloveyousomuch."

The phone went tumbling from her hands again, hitting the ground and skidding a few feet away. Camila slid down further, running her hand through her dark brown hair and closing her eyes. It was a matter of seconds before her body was flat on the ground, curled up on her side in an uncomfortable fetal position. Head propped on her hands, the girl fell asleep.

The day would be over soon.

Lauren leaned back in her seat, propping her arms on the smaller-than-average rests and tapping lightly on the hard plastic. There as a steel grey laptop in front of her, the screen covered in spreadsheets and data that was sorted into neat categories. She sat at a lengthy table, an elegant arrangement of flowers and some overturned crystal glasses near a pitcher of water. To either side of her were some equally bored looking employees, suit and tie in check with sleepy looks on their faces.

"So those numbers need to be fed into the system by midnight tonight. Jauregui, Do you think you can hang back a little late and get that done? You'll get paid for overtime no problem."

Lauren took a deep breath, nodding to the man that stood at the front of the room with a pad of chart paper on an easel. Assuring him that she would be happy to work late, she then felt a sharp vibration against her chest in short staccato bursts. Camila. Fumbling around, Lauren grabbed her phone through her blouse and flicked at the do not disturb switch, sitting back when the vibrations stopped.

She only checked her voicemail hours later when all the lights in her office were off with the exception of her desktop computer. The sun was long gone now, not that from her smaller-than-average window she could see much of it during the day. Lauren took a break from tapping at her keyboard to listen to the single message in her inbox.