Not Quite the Opposites (camren)

3 - The Moments We Tuck Away with the Rest of History

I think it's basic human nature to want to be around something or someone that makes you happy. And through all the new school stresses, I found ease with Camila – only because it'd be too soon to talk about tranquility and just pure, unadulterated contentment.

It'd be a premature assessment with such delicate vulnerability; like a soap bubble, carelessly blown into the atmosphere with hazards as harmless as a soft breeze. And even if it safely lands on the floor, it would burst and would be nothing but a round, soapy outline of the sphere it once was.

It wouldn't be a surprise that I had unconsciously and unceremoniously tucked the crumpled sheet of paper in my backpack like yesterday's news. Camila's notebook continued to lay unattended on her desk and the more I stared at it, the more intriguing it became.

The little paperback would mean a first-hand journey down the realms of Camila's mind through her heart, which were traced by her hand.

It had to be something personal to her, that the entire time I was in front, she'd never even spared me a glance.

At least, I didn't see her look up.

If we were to play whack-a-mole, she'd be the cunning mole I could not pound with the cushioned hammer.

But I knew she'd been writing.

The thought process of art is fascinating. The composition of words – the choice of words – and the thoughts they convey. They could simply be a narration of the writer's day, or a poignant poem with breathtaking metaphors. Either way, they would be a product of the complex labyrinth of the human mind.

Without an audience, they're the most genuine.

Camila and I talked for the remainder of the class.

She graciously asked me questions about the last four years of my life but remained within cautious borders and breathing spaces. None of them were intrusive and she was very respectful.

The most important factor about our conversation was how riveting it was, and just her eyes alone stirred my ability to remain calm.

It was embarrassing how my heart reacted to her. It was like a little child being thrown up in the air, laughing carelessly but knowing that whatever force propelled them there would catch them.

I am going crazy.

I think I need to have a little talk with myself, and maybe scold the giddy girl on a dangerous sugar high that if I allow myself some slack, that girl would ricochet all over the place.

I may or may not have acted like a damsel in distress, and asked Camila to walk me to my next class.

Trying to justify that would be impossible unless I simply say, I wanted to extend our time together after knowing we had different classes.

Yes, I blame the giddy girl on a sugar high because of course, she's not your typical poised Lauren.

But she's still Lauren.

So, blame Lauren.

Camila and I hurriedly collected our books from our separate lockers to be able to compensate for the limited time we had between classes. And while my actions created little bangs and booms within the metal compartment, Camila's were timed and efficient, a mark of a routine her hands had memorized.

We were finally on our way to my next class, navigating our way through the mess of students, determined to get to theirs without delay. I took my time to look for my brother, hoping to check up on him and see if he had a Camila by his side but to no avail. All the while, I attempted to familiarize the white walls and tangerine lockers, and identify it as some sort of a home.