Or Is It Real?

Chapter 31: Or Is It Real?

Three months ago

Camila's PoV

Not even a year into our relationship, and we have come to this point were we fight about the most inane reasons, ignore each other for days, and purposely make each other jealous out of spite. And when we fight, it always feel like it's the end of the world, like we're gonna break up, or I don't know, die, maybe? But then we make up, and everything's swept under the rug, forgotten or, rather, avoided until the next trigger that'll initiate another fight.

Melodramatic, I know. Oh, young love.

Mostly we just argue about our public behavior. Or rather, my behavior. Because sometimes I couldn't help myself – I just feel the need to touch her or stare at her during interviews, or any other events, for that matter. I seriously can't help it. Like a moth to the flame, I'm physically incapable of staying away from her. But could you really blame me if I forget my boundaries? Because when I stare at those beautiful green eyes, I lose my mind.

I do shit like answer 'Mine's Lauren' with lovey dovey eyes when asked who my celebrity crush is. Or that cringe-worthy slip-up I did when the interviewer asked Lauren who she was gonna kiss under the mistletoe, and I squealed 'MEEEEE!' like a damn fucknut, and even if I tried to take it back, the damage has been done. I could just feel the other girls stare at me like I suddenly grew hairy balls on my face. Lauren played it cool at that moment but I knew her too well, and, sure enough, once we were alone, another argument blew up - as expected, and bigger than our usual ones.

To be honest, while I get where Lauren is coming from, sometimes it just feels that what we have isn't real. There are days where I question everything, wondering how someone who claims to love me is also capable of denying us as if the idea of it is something ridiculous. Seriously, I might as well change Lauren's name to Peter, because every time I hear her deny Camren I swear I could hear a rooster crow three times. Jesus doesn't like liars, Lauren!

How could something be real when I can't even tell people about it, when I'm not even allowed to be open and proud of my relationship, when I have to pretend that I'm in love with Austin? How could it feel real when all we do is fake it? It's like I'm her dirty little secret; Lauren caring too much about everybody's opinions, and I don't know how much I could take anymore.

But what can I do, right?

We have obligations. People around us expect us to act a certain way. What can we do? We're prisoners in our own little crazy world.

So, I lash out. Call me petty, whatever, I lash out to get a rise out of her. She pushed me to fake-date Austin, and yet she gets mad whenever she sees us together, so what, she thinks my world revolves around her? Well, yeah, it kinda does, but whatever. I'm gonna show her that I'm not some pathetic little lovesick puppy that she could play with whenever she wants, then leave alone to chase my own tail whenever she decides it's not appropriate to be seen together.

Austin and I started hanging out more frequently than necessary. He's actually a nice guy and I could tell that he genuinely likes me, that's why I feel bad leading him on, making him believe that there could be a chance between the two of us. In a parallel universe where Lauren doesn't exist, maybe I could like him romantically. Not in this lifetime, though. But yeah, we've gotten a bit close. We've gone to a couple of dates - for PR purposes of course - and he has been a good distraction for my heartaches. Sometimes, when I'm with him in a restaurant, or even just walking around in a crowded place, I imagine that it was Lauren that I was with, and god does it feel nice. It makes me sad to know that I could never do that with the person I truly love. It's pathetic, I know. I'm deluding myself with my desire to parade Lauren around, and I know I'm being selfish for using Austin like that, but I'm only human. I feel so weak and needy and angry and frustrated and confused, and I latch on to the first person who's willing to give me the kind of attention I craved for.