Her Light

XVIII

It's been four days since Camila started ignoring Lauren. And truthfully, Camila is over it. She's gone through every single possibility in her mind of what will happen when she finally breaks the ice. Tortured, they all sit unevenly in her heart. Camila has racked her mind again and again, leaving herself bloodied and raw with her thoughts.

She wants to put an end to it—this seemingly endless turmoil her heart likes to call 'safety.' It's driving Camila insane, and she'd rather not feel like she has to turn away from Lauren when she approaches her. Camila hates strategically planning out her schedule to evade Lauren.

But here's the thing, Camila physically can't stop. As of late, whenever she goes to talk with Lauren, her voice cannot utter anything, and she ends up turning away—every time without fail. Her and Lauren have stopped talking and interacting all together; they sleep in their bed like strangers and function like machines, and everyone on board is worried.

Camila wishes she could fix this. It has spiraled out of control and she just wants Lauren back; how they were, how they've always been.

"Mila," Dinah comes up beside Camila who is trying to enjoy the ocean breeze. She still isn't able to help with tasks on deck, so she tries to stay out of everyone's way best she can. "Normani wants you in the cabin to change your bandage shirt thing."

Pushing herself away from the ledge, Camila nods, "okay, I'll go meet her now." She waves briskly to Dinah before walking down the length of the ship.

Lauren is standing by Ally, looking as if she's being taught how to handle the sails. Camila passes by her, her head down and turned away. Having been here before, Camila is well aware of how Lauren's expression perk with interest as Camila walks by. Even without seeing it, Camila knows. And it hurts how she knows her like this.

The door to the cabin is closed, so Camila opens it and steps inside. To her surprise, the room is empty—there's no Normani anywhere on any of the beds, or in the corner where she's been trying to build them a table. Isn't Normani supposed to be in—?

"Got you." Loudly, the door slams behind her.

Shit.

Freezing on spot, Camila curls her shoulders into herself, cringing at the lingering shut of the door. She hasn't turned around yet, but she would recognize Lauren's voice anywhere—even if it hasn't been uttered to her the last few days.

Silence falls upon them, except it's not like when they're alone together. There is hostility emitting from Lauren, and it makes Camila tense and close her eyes before turning around. Hugging herself, she nervously cracks her eyes open.

Lauren is standing in front of the door, her arms folded over her chest, her foot tapping on the ground impatiently. Her expression is pissed.

"It fucking sucks you're ignoring me." She takes a step down from the doorway, slightly closer to Camila now. Letting her arms fall to her sides, she raises a hand in the air, "Did I do something wrong? I thought you and I were finally good."

Nearly cowering at her raised hand, Camila has to forcefully tell herself it's only an explaining hand—as Lauren talks with her hands quite often. Lauren picks up on Camila's body language; her nervously backing up, her eyes darting from her face to her hand. Lauren drops her arm.

Camila barely has enough breath, enough grasp, to say, "No, you didn't do anything wrong—"

"Then why are you avoiding me? I'm not stupid, I can tell you're solely shunning me because you talk to all the other girls on board. I want to know why."

In Camila's mind, she's better at this. The words come naturally and flow gracefully. But now, in the face of Lauren's hurt expression, Camila becomes undone.