Habit

Chapter 11

Camila froze in her place in front of the girl she could have loved. There was nothing stopping her from kissing this girl passionately, fiercely, intensely, but then there was the word. Slut. She had to go and ruin it. They could have had it, their moment, what Camila had longed for for so long. But no. It couldn't happen. Because at the end of the day, Lauren still viewed Camila as a raging whore, a tramp in the eyes of everyone, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Camila could wish, hope, dream of positive recognition from this girl all she wanted, but Lauren would always resent her. Why, Camila did not know. But she did know she couldn't just take it. She wouldn't just take it. She'd be damned if she would let this keep happening to her.

But instead of retaliating, instead of threatening, instead of yelling and screaming about the unfairness of it all, she played with the girl before her.

"You'll stop denying me someday, babe. Because every time this happens," Camila brushed a piece of Lauren's hair from her lips, stared longingly, yet with a smirk skirted on her features, at the perfect face before her, and ran a single finger down the middle of Lauren's mouth,

"every time this happens, you get closer and closer to kissing me." Camila leaned even closer now, impossibly closer, and kissed the side of Lauren's jaw lightly.

"And when you finally do," Camila bit Lauren's ear, bit it again, harder, and Lauren let out a small moan,

"You can go fuck yourself, because I won't do it for you." Camila leaned back, felt Lauren stiffen under her. She walked away with her head held high, but everything inside her was crumbling apart.

Camila walked down three different hallways, turned once left, once right, and stumbled into a small bathroom in what she assumed was the freshman corridor.

She'd assumed this because every day for the past two and a half years, she'd screwed every guy in the school in the bathrooms of this building; however, she'd never been in this bathroom. She was a virgin freshman year. She never had a reason to be dirty, to make use of this room in any ways than the obvious ways. She realized she was finding a new safe place, a safe haven where nothing could haunt her, no memories. Camila smiled.

She slid the heels off her feet and sat down on the ground, leaning against the blue bathroom wall. Camila put her knees to her chest, not caring about that she was wearing a dress. She put her head down and let her mind run carelessly. She stayed here most of the day, not getting up until she heard the door creep open, and she scrambled up quickly, not wanting to be seen just sitting on the dirty bathroom floor.

For a second she let her heart think it could be Lauren. When it wasn't Lauren, she decided she was in over her head. Lauren didn't love her, never would. It didn't matter.

To hell with Lauren Jauregui.

Camila drove home that night with things on her mind, endlessly circling around Lauren. She refused to register that everything she thought of came back to the girl with the emerald eyes. So finally, she turned the radio as loud as it would go and screamed the lyrics to every song she could sing.

When she got home, she climbed the stairs, but not without kissing her mother on the cheek first, and went to her room. She completed her homework, knowing she had to finish this last semester strong for her NYU scholarship to uphold, and when she was done, she fell back onto her bed almost completely asleep.

She woke with a start, someone knocking on her door. "Kaki," she heard her mother say quietly. She hadn't called Camila that in years; it made the young girl smile, her confidence boosting a teeny bit.

"Si, mama?"
The door opened a little and Camila's mother slid through the open doorway. "There's someone here to see you, Camila. A girl." Camila knew who it was, undeniably.

It had to be Lauren. No one else here would show up except maybe Ally, but Camila's mom knew Ally, so she wouldn't say "someone's here." It had to be Lauren Jauregui. Camila slid off her bed rather quickly and made her way down the stairs with a speedy walk working through the soles of her feet. Over the crest of the stairs, she saw exactly who she'd anticipated standing nonchalantly in her own foyer.

"Lauren," she said, with grace and confidence, but a bit of an edge. She knew she had to protect herself. Lauren looked up, saw Camila, and smiled a bit. Soon enough, though, Camila noticed, the smile was wiped away and replaced with irritation. Camila copied the girl.

"Well, come upstairs, then." She said this with urgency, almost like Lauren had disrupted her, though she hadn't at all. Lauren looked surprised to hear this in Camila. Camila turned on her heel and smiled with satisfaction at the effect she had on the girl so far. Lauren followed Camila up the stairs, and when they reached Camila's room, Camila shut the door behind her.

Lauren walked around the room, gazing at the posters, the clothes spread evenly on the floor, the CDs racked on the side wall.

"You have good taste for a little slut," Lauren slurred, running her finger along a Blink-182 CD. Camila rolled her eyes.

"Give it a rest, Jauregui. We're alone. Stop pretending you have something against me. It's old." Camila didn't expect this to work-but it did. Lauren melted before her, her harsh exterior fading. She ran a hand through her long hair, closed her eyes tight for a minute and opened them for a brief minute, peering directly into Camila's eyes. She almost looked sad.
"You never told me why you wore that dress today. Tell me." She crossed her arms across her chest, and Camila realized the girl before her was begging. Lauren Jauregui really wanted an answer.

Camila took a deep breath, knowing it was time to be real. "I'm done being this person. I'm tired of collecting twenties for sex that I don't feel, and having no real purpose in life other than to please the douches in our high school. I'm done being a whore, a slut, a tramp, and all the other vicious things you've called me." Lauren flinched when she said this. "I'm done dressing for attention. Negative attention. I want to be looked at as pretty. And damn it, Lauren, I actually felt pretty today when you told me I was beautiful. But I'll be dead before I believe that's really what you think." Camila swallowed back tears that had formed, and was going to continue, but before she could, Lauren rushed toward her, put her hands on her waist, and pushed the smaller girl against the wall behind her.

"Just shut up. Kiss me." And Lauren put her lips over Camila's, pressed hard, kissed with all the previous tension leaving both of their bodies. Camila kissed back, even though she knew she shouldn't.

Something wasn't right.

But in that little, miniscule glimpse of a moment, she really didn't care.