Camila brought her Jack and Coke to her lips, and took a generous sip, welcoming the faint burn of the whiskey as it slid down her throat and warmed her stomach. It momentarily cleared her mind as she took in a deep breath and swirled the remaining ice cubes around her glass. An infectious dance beat pumped out of the speakers, and the alcohol ran through her system, but they only served as distractions from the girl sitting fifty feet away, his arm wrapped around her waist. Running a hand through her loose curls, she leant her elbows on the railing in front of her as people pushed by, all of them trying to be heard above the music.
The brunette was sitting next to Holly in a booth as reporters from radio and various websites sat with them, casually asking questions. The off-white lace dress Lauren wore had her perfect almond eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the club. Even from across the room, Camila could see that smile she always got whenever she spoke of the world and her writing; it was her favourite on her. It would light up her whole face, so much so that others couldn't help but be transfixed, unable to look away.
But every now and then, Lauren would lean into Michael's embrace, a very different smile stretching across those lips; a smile that had Camila gripping her glass tighter as she watched from the raised landing across the other side of the bar. A stranger would look upon them, and say that they were a happy couple, that the smile she wore was one of happiness and love.
But Camila knew better.
It was one that had no life, and didn't reach her eyes. It was one she'd held for the past two weeks, ever since they came back into each other's lives, and ever since he showed up at the studio. It sent a lump to Camila's throat, knowing that all she could do was stand back and watch the girl she loved pretend to love somebody else.
"Do you ever not stare at her?"
The jesting voice to her right cut through the music and drew her concentration away from the couple. Camila heaved a sigh and turned toward Rachel who was watching her expectantly, a small smirk hinting at her lips. Camila leant her chin on her palm and raised both eyebrows, looking at the tiny brunette pointedly until she chuckled and rolled her eyes.
"You know what I mean," she digressed, leaning backwards against the railing, smiling at people as they passed.
"This is fun for you, isn't it?" Camila said, looking back at Lauren. "Seeing me in your shoes for once."
Seeing me want something too much.
"Are you referring to someone finally making you feel something up here, rather than just down there?" Rachel teased, placing a mocking hand over her heart, before sliding it lower.
Camila took the last sip of her drink, Rachel continuing to smirk at her as she nudged her playfully. She let out a breath, a smile pulling across her lips at her friend's words. Rachel was right. Camila never believed in the possibility of love in high school. People like Rachel who yearned for that idealistic notion of love, most of the time in the wrong place, she thought of as delusional and naïve. She never believed in a love like this; one that made you feel as if you were drowning, taking with it the desire and will to breathe.
And now I've become like Rachel.
One of the delusional.
"Your shoes hurt."
"The cutest ones always do," Rachel quipped back, placing a reassuring hand on her forearm. Camila dropped her gaze, no longer able to look at the two of them without wanting to scream, or worse.
Before he showed up that day, it was easy for Camila to pass him off as a faceless object that was just in the way of them being together. A blimp on Camila's radar that she knew would disappear as soon as she got Lauren to open her eyes. But now that this man had a face, and very real presence, it became harder to just pass him off. Camila now knew the hands that laced through Lauren's and wrapped around her waist at night. And when her thoughts would wander to those hands and their bodies, Camila would feel that ache thud heavily in her chest, and her hands go for her phone.
