Who Are You \\ Laucy

Chapter 7

"How's college?"

I was smushed between Taylor and Chris in a booth across from Mom and Dad. We should've gotten a table. Miami was still hot as hell, and as much as I loved my siblings, we weren't close enough for me to enjoy being in Jauregui sibling sandwich for two hours.

"We FaceTime almost everyday. Nothing's changed since last night." I rolled my eyes. Their intentions were always good, but they couldn't take a hint. They didn't seem to pick up on my purposefully monotone voice every time they asked the same questions, and I still had the same answers.

"Remember when we took you here on your birthday?" Dad murmured, fiddling with the cloth napkin that tautly secured his silverware. This place housed so many of my childhood and not so distant memories, from the first time I tried Tiramisu and fell in love with it, to my first date with Camila, a week before senior year had started. I nodded, looking around.

I smiled up at the dim, rustic light fixtures that were all suspended in the center, leaving somber shadows in the furthest corners of the dining area. They were paired with decorative blue lights that were strewn across, adding a subtle pop of color. Several vents from the industrial-looking ceiling blew cool air into the restaurant's intimate interior. Wine bottles were neatly arranged on the maple shelves that clung onto the walls. Eyeing the vase in the middle of our table, I saw a singular daisy, encapsulated by an intricate glass design. This place was a haven from the bright city lights and crowded, noisy streets.

And suddenly, I was 13 again, overly eager to come here because it was my favorite Italian eatery. Back then, the lights seemed more radiant and the colors crisper. It was an adventure in its glorious haze, my innocence completely unruffled. But all of that had changed. A timid voice brought me out of my reverie.

"Hey, I'm Paula and I'm your server tonight."

My attention snapped to the petite waitress with golden skin and brown eyes, just a tint lighter than Lucy's. Her knuckles were white, clutching onto our menus with a vice-like grip, her gaze solely trained on the ground as she placed them on the mahogany table.

I felt Chris straighten his posture beside me, his chest slightly puffed out and his body tense. He thanked her, deliberately making his voice deeper and fuller than usual. Try as I might've, I couldn't help but snort. Paula sauntered away momentarily, and Chris hit me in the arm, causing Taylor to snicker.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"She's out of your league hotshot. Plus you're still a baby anyway." I reached to pinch his cheeks, but he slapped my hands away. "Aw, did I hurt da little one's feewings?"

Ignoring me, he picked up the menu, examining the options displayed by the dignified cursive lettering. Not soon after, Taylor started to complain, "I don't know what to order."

"There isn't even that many options," Chris scoffed.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I announced, leaving my parents to deal with the drama about to unfold. "Just the order something with pasta if I'm not back in time."

The air was humid as I navigated my way to the rear of the restaurant, passing the picturesque brick fireplace that served as the focal point of the main dining area. Paula hurried by with her arms crossed, nearly running into me. Huffing, I finally opened the door to the restroom, its handle sticky from oil that emanated from the kitchen situated only an arm's width away.

It felt even more stuffy upon my entrance, especially after my eyes met the mocha ones staring back at me in the mirror. A look of shock quickly crossed her face, masking the hurt that was hidden behind.