Together

Chapter 6

When we walk into the restaurant, hand in hand, no warmth hits us. It's the same temperature inside as it is outside. I glance around, booths line the walls and tables fill in the outline. Stools are placed in front of the bar, although, I don't know who would drink at lunch. The lighting is dim, making everything seem much calmer than it really is.

A lady in her mid-twenties approaches us. Her blonde hair is pulled into a bun on the top of her head, and a plain white apron hangs in front of a black blouse. She smiles warmly at us, gesturing us to her.

"Hello," She says as we walk towards her. "And your names are?"

"I'm Lauren," I quickly answer before Camila can say anything. "And this—" I point to Camila who smiles shyly. "—is my wife, Walz."

"Last name?" The lady questions, jotting something down on her paper.

"Jauregui." Camila and I both reply, sharing a giddy smile afterward.

"And 'Walz', I've never heard that name before in my life! Very interesting." The blonde tucks her own behind her ear, walking over to a booth. Camila and I follow, sitting in front of each other once we reach our seat.

"I'm Taylor," the lady addresses herself, setting our menus on the table. "And Bea will be serving you today. If you have any issues, please tell Miss Miller and she will help you." Taylor smiles before walking away into the back room.

After Taylor had vanished from view, I take Camila's hand in my own from across the table. She is giggling like a child whose nose just got bopped by a clown. I raise an eyebrow at her, trying to get her to explain her non-stop laughter.

"It's just—" Camila stammers, trying to maintain her chuckles. "When you called me your wife, I remember something from middle school." A few more giggles erupt from the brunette, but she simmers down quickly.

"And do you mind sharing it with me?" I ask, my eyes scanning the menu.

"Of course," Camila grins, setting down her menu. "It was in eight grade.."

Once the words start to leave her mouth, I remember the event like yesterday.

-start of flashback-

All the students file into the small classroom, all scurrying to their desks before the teacher enters the room. I twirl my pencil around my fingers while waiting for our teacher. Camila nudges me when a substitute walks in instead of our normal history teacher. He rubs his neck before sitting down in the chair to address us.

"Good morning, students," the teacher greets us, grabbing a small stack of papers from the desk. "I'm Mr. Meyer. And, before you ask, I have no idea where your teacher is."

A hand shoots up from the front row. It's Ariana Grande, a girl I was 'okay' friends with. Mr. Meyer's gaze hovers over her before he calls on the girl.

"Yes?"

"Our normal teacher, not that you aren't normal per se, usually takes roll right now." Ariana informs our substitute who just nods in blind agreement. He has no idea what he is doing.

"Okay, if that's what you do." Mr. Meyer grabs a piece of paper from the desk and scans it with his hazel eyes. He then starts to call out names.

"Charlie Puth?" Mr. Meyer calls out roll.

"Here."

"Ariana Grande?"

"Here."

"Shawn Mendes?"

"Here!"