Falling is the easy part (Camren)

10

Lauren:

She's just a girl. She's just a girl. Just a girl.

Just.

A.

Girl.

No matter how hard I try I tell myself that, no matter how many times I repeat it over and over to myself, I'm no closer in believing it. If everything, I'm believing it less and less the more I think about it. She's not just a girl is she? Not at all. She's Camila Cabello. She's not just another girl I've met on a night out and brought back here and shagged her brains out. Not even close. She's so much more than that. She's sexier. And funnier. And cuter. And a million times more amazing.

She's not just a girl. She's Camila fucking Cabello. And I want her to be my girl.

I closed my eyes again, and for quite possibly the billionth time this week, I imagined what that would be like. What it would be like to kiss her when I pass her on campus, instead of stealing a quick glance. What it would be like to wrap my arms around her and dance with her when I see her on nights out, instead of pretending not to notice her. What it would be like to bring her home with me, take her to bed, and worship her like she deserves, instead of ignoring her when she leaves with who I assume are her housemates.

God. I don't even know who she lives with. Well apart from my brief meeting with that drunk Normani girl at Danny's party.

It's been a week since that night and I have seen Camila a total of three times since then. On none of these occasions have we even exchanged a brief hello. Nothing. Nada. It's all stolen glances and broken eye contact across crowded bars. On Monday I walked passed her on campus, hardly recognising her dressed down in a pair of trackies and long sleeved tshirt. It was only when I got closer did I realise it was Camila. Looking back over my shoulder, I caught her doing the same. We smiled shyly and carried on walking. I looked back for a second time, reading the words on the back of her tshirt.

'University of Miami Swim Team'

Guess that explains the fit body then.

Anyway that was Monday, today's Wednesday and I haven't seen her since. Not that I'm massively surprised. I mean it's not like I can ever remember seeing her around campus before last Saturday, and Miami's a fairly big place. I'm sure the odds of us running each other every day are pretty low. I should be considering myself lucky that I've seen her three times. Once on Thursday, both of us clearly hungover from Danny's party, in a queue for coffee at the SU. Friday night in Revs. And Monday. Yesterday I considered hanging around outside the pool just on the off chance I might bump into her. Until I realised that's verging on stalking and I have absolutely no idea when she goes training.

Then it occurred to me that knowing she swims, is really the only thing I know about her. Still. Even after Wednesday night, I was yet to find out anything remotely personal about her. I could list what I know about Camila Cabello on the back of a stamp. Probably quite literally. Especially if I used small handwriting.

Camila Cabello. Twenty years old. Swims. Has a housemate called Normani. Had fun on Saturday night.

Oh and her phone number. Which I am yet to use. Just like she is yet to use mine too. I've nearly text her so many times, even typing out messages on a few occasions, only to chicken out and delete them. Everything I write just seems too desperate. Or stalkerish. Or a mixture of the two. Take Friday night for example, I very nearly, and I mean really nearly, like thumb hovering over the send button nearly, sent her a message saying 'I can see you!'. Seriously. If that's not the perfect way to scare the poor girl off then I don't know what is.

I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I can't for the life of me write a text to Camila. I want to write something funny and sweet, something friendly and flirty, something smooth and relaxed, something that lets her know that I can't stop thinking about her without making me seem like a complete freak. Is that too much to ask? I've never had this problem before, never been so stressed about sending one measly text message. And that's why, in my opinion, any text to Camila, isn't measly. It means so much.