Talk To Me (Camren)

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Lauren's POV

It had been only a few hours since stormed out of the Cabello house and I already have decided that I hate fighting with Camila. I was so mad at myself for letting my bad temper take over. It was like I was beyond exhausted from the day I had had, but my thoughts consuming Camila were not allowing my mind to rest. Sleep was clearly  not an option. I refused to sleep on that note of our relationship.

So I crawled out of bed and stumbled through the darkness. I pulled a hoodie over my head and slipped on a pair of shoes. My window was big enough for me to jump out with ease. I crept across my front lawn and stood in front of my car, contemplating what to do next. The only option was to walk all of the way to Camila's house, since the car engine would certainly awake my whole household.

It was insane, I know. So there I was, walking in the darkness, with only the light of the street lamps to help me see that I was going in the right direction.

Contrary to me murmuring to myself, "What are you doing," I didn't go back.

Eventually, I came to Camila's neighborhood, and the house that I had been at two hours earlier came into view.

"This is insane," I huffed as I stood under Camila's window. The crisp air tingled my senses and made my cheeks prickle.

For a second I wondered if I should throw pebbles at her window. Or maybe climb up a convenient vine of some sort. The thought almost made me laugh. Instead, I decided to call her name.

"Camila," A whisper came from my lips. It was hardly loud enough.

I tried again, trying to keep my voice down while still allowing her to hear from her opened window. "Camila."

There was a good chance she was sleeping so I promised myself one more try before I left.

"Camila," I called as I stared at her window.

A shadow appeared in the corner of the frame. A bright rectangle illuminating light appeared next, shining down on me. It took me a while to realize the light was her phone screen.

"Lauren?" A faint voice was carried by the wind to my ears.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," I called in turn.

I heard a scoff.

"There's a ladder to my left."

I thought she was joking until she moved her phone screen to a metal ladder fourteen steps away from me.

I thought a, "You've got to be kidding me," but I would do anything at this point to be able to feel her skin beneath my fingertips. Having to climb a large ladder into her window, in the dark, was not going to keep me from her. I made my way towards the tool leaning against the side of the house. I grasped it carefully and shuffled over to where Camila was hanging out the window. Making sure it was stable, I placed a foot on the first step and took the sides. The ladder made noises as I proceeded this until I could place a hesitant foot on and into the window.

"This is hardly romantic," I grumble as she helps me in.

My feet shifted in the unknown atmosphere of her room, although I could only see the outline of objects I hadn't bothered to look at earlier. I felt very lost until I felt Camila's fingers around my wrist, tugging lightly towards her bed. By the light of her phone, I could see where she had thrown off the covers and how disheveled- not only Camila looked, but also her covers. I loved it.

"Camila-"

A finger came to my lips to silence me. A soft "shh" drifted through the air. I didn't mind complying since I wasn't sure what I would say.

Camila turned on a tiny desk lamp and my eyes had trouble with the yellow light protruding through my irises at first. Camila climbed into the waves of sheets and waited expectantly. I slipped my converse off my feet and went in after her, into the warmth. We lay face to face for I don't know how long- I wasn't counting.

Her eyes radiated warmth, unlike how they had a few hours ago. I could guess the emotions that I saw in those eyes, but I would never be sure unless she voiced them herself. I wanted to engulf her, kiss her, tell her that I was sorry, but I remained still.

"Have you ever thought about how you see with your brain, not your eyes? Our eyes function like a camera, capturing light and sending data back to the brain," Camila suddenly tells me. I thought about it for a moment. I never really thought about those type of things until I saw them on my tumblr blog or something.

"Well my brain likes what it sees," I joked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

After a few heartbeats, Camila laughed. "You are such a dork. I wonder if anyone would believe me if I told them how lame Lauren Jauregui actually is."

"Hey, I was complimenting you. No need to be rude," I tried to frown but I couldn't hold back my smile at how affectionately Camila was staring at me in that moment.

My mind tried to think up a way to apologize to Camila but before I could-

"I'm sorry Lauren. I shouldn't have let my anger out on you like that. Honestly, I was just exhausted and still shaken." Camila's eyes flitted downward.

"What happened?" I asked carefully.

She hesitated before, "I broke down in the bathroom."

"Broke down..."

"I have anxiety attacks. Well I haven't had one in a long time."

I felt as if I had swallowed sand.

"Anxiety attacks?" My voice broke.

She nodded wordlessly as I tried to steady my voice. It sounded embarrassingly kiddish and sad after her confession. "You had an anxiety attack today?"

A horrible feeling flushed through my body all the way down to my toes. I had been hiding under a tree while Camila was harassed out of the blue. She had a panic attack due to the social situation I had been a part of. Camila had been alone during a time like that and I had been a selfish prat.

"Yeah, they're pretty draining and leave me in a horrible mood. It happens when things as unthreatening as people I don't know asking me questions occurs." Her eyes dropped back down, shrugging as if she was ashamed. "I don't want you to think I'm some weak thing."

"I don't."

"I have an anxiety disorder, I have selective mutism," she continues as if it would change the way I feel about her.

"Those don't make you weak. If anything they make you a stronger person, but I shouldn't say anything else before I know more about what you're going through."

She still looked as if she didn't believe me but asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you're willing to tell me."

Camila sighed, collecting herself before whispering, "When I speak, I feel like every word that comes out of my mouth is stupid and uninteresting, and useless and unnecessary, and not worth anyone's time." A pained expression crossed her features. I stare with my lips parted. I wasn't expecting her to whip out such a candid response.

"When I was little I was kind of there among my group of friends. Not one listened. They talked over me. They never replied to my questions- how could they? They weren't paying attention to my existence. So everyday I started talking less and less in public. Then I would go home to my mother. Oh you'll get a kick out of my mother," she gave a laugh, but it wasn't a humorous one, "I came home from school one day, chattering on about my day and my mother screamed at me to 'be quiet for once' and 'only speak to her if I was dying'. I, being the kid I was, didn't get the message and tried telling her fantasy stories I had made up. When I was done she made sure I knew that they had wasted her time by giving me a nice slap and went off mumbling about how she wished she never had a kid. My cousins laughed at me when I told them about something that made me happy. I had basically spent my life in silence, Lauren.

That is, until Sofia came along and I had her. Mom's gotten better. I don't know the reason behind her treating me the way she did. She doesn't have anything to worry about since I get good grades and don't do anything bad. She's better with Sofi at least. She doesn't slap her and is decent with her almost all the time. For my father, he started drinking when I stopped speaking and....well- he-"

I stopped her because she was nearly sobbing by then. Gathering her in my arms, I wiped my own tears, willing the rest away. I reeled in my breath. There was a pressure in my chest that ached of secondhand pain. I couldn't and didn't want to believe what she was telling me. How could Camila be so unlucky to have had such a mother. Have such a childhood. Anyone would have major self esteem issues if they grew up in that environment. I wondered what it was like to have a mother who went about her business while pretending you didn't exist.

"She physically hurt you to get you to stop talking?"

"It was only a couple of times. I was a chatterbox I guess," she informed weakly.

"That's a fucking nightmare. That's messed up." I didn't even know people like that existed.

"From what I've heard, my mom's mom was absolutely horrid to my mom. It makes sense. I mean, it's not really her fault if she was raised like that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was Camila defending her mom?

"That's fucked up. Your mom is basically at fault! How do you expect your daughter to come out if you tell her to shut up as an infant!"

"It's not- I chose not to speak. Everybody has their reasons. My mother could have- I don't know," Camila struggled to argue.

"Can we stop talking about this?"

"You're too nice for your own good."

She shrugged weakly and met my eyes with puppy dog eyes, "It's better than the alternative."

The look on her face was so cute that I wanted to squeeze her and kiss ever inch of her face. The next thing I know my arms are around her, pressing our bodies so close together that I could feel her stomach contract as she sucked in her breath. Her body was radiating heat in the cold night as it passed through the thin fabric of her tight tank top. On an impulse I pulled away slightly and softly grasped her jaw; the same place I had seen her father gripping harshly a month ago. For a split second, Camila was confused, but not frightened by my gentle touch. Then my fingers gingerly pulled our faces together until my lips remained awaiting her smooth ones.

My heart felt too big for my chest and I wanted to show her- tell her how she was making me feel. When I looked at her, the organ in my chest felt as if it was expanding twice it's size and it might just burst. I needed to share the overpowering feeling, or ask if she was feeling the same.

For a fleeting moment, I saw the shadow of bruises under my fingers. Bruises made by hands; male hands. Unlike my thin, feminine fingers, these were made by hands that had years of strength. My grip became even looser, even if it wasn't strong to begin with. A sensation of something incredibly soft pressed against my lips appeared next. I never wanted to stop feeling the feeling of a kiss from Camila. It wasn't even as simple as a "kiss from Camila". It was so much more. It felt as if we were communicating with feelings that would otherwise be indescribable.

My lips parted and I felt Camila's tongue slip into my mouth. When our tongues met, it was an electric feeling. Hers was hesitant at first before I pressed with more pressure. The kisses became more wanting and passionate as I bit and nipped at her flesh. When we finally parted, one look in her eyes shined with desire and tenderness. I redirected my lips to her jaw, leaving small kisses up to her ear, gently biting down on sensitive skin.

"Oh my god," she breathed lowly as tugged our hips together. A hand slid under my sweatshirt and sent shivers of pleasure up my spine.

Before things got even more heated, Camila pulled away. Her pupils were dilated and we were both breathing heavily.

"Lauren, what are we doing?"

I shrugged, "I like you. I'm sure you like me also."

"I- erm- yeah," a deep scarlet color crept to her cheeks," I- I like you a lot Lauren..."

"Maybe we should just lay low for a while though, Camz," I started, "I mean, I just got out of a long term relationship with...Luis-"

"Yeah. No, yeah, that's totally understandable," Camila was quick to say.

"There's also the rumors and stuff that's sure to arise tomorrow. I'm not going to leave your side and you are going to have to deal with me all day," I smiled softly.

"Okay," she whispered as a grin crept across her beautiful features. Her eyes dropped to my mouth.

"Anyway," I continued as I smirked. The look she was giving was one that I'd seen her give me a good amount of times before. "What are you doing up at..." I craned my head to get a glimpse of the red numbers on her bedside clock, "11:47?"

"Well I have trouble sleeping in general, but our conversation this evening was making it especially hard."

"That's not good. I'm sorry. You had every right to be angry at me. I wasn't thinking and I should have gone to you."

"I don't want you to feel obligated to-"

"Camila. I don't feel obligated to do anything. I more than enjoy your company and I want to be there if you have a panic attack. Someone should be with you and I want to be that person. I want you to feel safe with me."

"I do," Camila replied with no hesitation, snuggling further into my embrace.

Hearing it come from her was the biggest relief. "You do," I sighed happily and wrapped my arms tighter around her midriff.

I felt special. Immensely special to see this side of Camila, and be in her thoughts. To be a stem of the never ending vine of thoughts that was her mind. Some parts, minimal parts in Camila's case, spread thick of tangled poison ivy and thorns. While many stems and attachments ran with healthy chlorophyll ideas, notions, opinions, feelings. I saw Camila's mind as a complex vine; I wondered how Camila related her thought process to. I would have to ask her sometime.

A/N: I was hesitant to stick the last paragraph in because it was actually a deep conversation I had with my sister at three in the morning. The vine idea is how I perceive my own mind and I like to think of Camila's mind the same way.