Riptide (a camren fic)

chapter 8: torpedo-free zone

A/N: aha.. ha. apologies for any typos.

The front porch light is still on at the Jauregui's house as Lauren pulls up in the driveway. It's not entirely a good sign, considering the annoyed sigh that falls from her neighbor's lips.

"Crap," Lauren mutters, turning the keys in the ignition and promptly shutting the car off.

Camila's attention flickers from the lone light bulb shining dimly beneath its rustic shade, and the brows knitting irritably above Lauren's green glare.

"Something wrong?" Camila presses. It's a stupid question that has an overt answer. Clearly something is wrong, and the fact that she chose to state the obvious makes her cringe. "What's wrong?" She quickly corrects.

"Nothing," Lauren mumbles offhandedly. She turns to Camila, and in the split second the hard expression softens.

Camila feels her stomach flip at the expression. The face that was once distressed is now contemplative, thoughtful. Yet with the way green eyes cast over Camila's slowly flushing face suggests that whatever is going on through her neighbors mind has instantly made Camila its prime subject.

"My parents are still up," Lauren says, nodding her head towards the door. "And there are probably going to be questions."

"Makes sense."Camila nods in understanding.

"I wouldn't know what to tell them," Lauren continues. The warm flush licks at her cheeks when Lauren's gaze suddenly falls down to her lips.

"Tell them the truth," Camila responds, noting begrudgingly how her voice has lowered. "That you were with me."

Camila isn't sure if she's imagining it – the soft shadow castings across Lauren's chin from smiling. It would be completely out of left field to assume so, considering her best friend is a figment of her imagination...

(And also the fact that she had caught herself staring so intently at Lauren's lips recently, she's pretty sure she can recognize the variations of gestures they project).

"That's going to cause more questions honestly," Lauren admits.

"Then lie," Camila quips.

Lauren's smile becomes apparent after this comment.

"I think that's more complicated than telling the truth," Lauren answers playfully, though Camila notices that it's laced with something fabricated. Something that she's become an expert in herself – half truths.

"Tell them we are dating then," Camila offers.

Lauren looks at a loss for words and Camila notices the way her phrase could have fallen into lie or honesty. Perhaps it was a subconscious way of asking Lauren. But Lauren's silence creates doubt and an insecurity that Camila desperately tries to shake off. "They already think we are anyway. Besides, I don't really know what to tell my parents either. If that's any kind of consolation."

Lauren's soft expression stiffens for a moment, as if a thought has passed through her head. A thought, Camila thinks, is not entirely a good one. It's proven in the way Lauren turns away, and sighs through her nose.

"Questions are just going to lead to arguing," Lauren finally says. A feeling of slight discomfort comes to Camila, as she watches Lauren quietly. The playful atmosphere has subsided, leaving the space between them dry and cold. And once again, Camila gets the feeling that she's listening in on something she shouldn't.

Questions form in the back of her mind, yet die when Camila takes in the frown marring Lauren's lips. A response to the statement falls flat on her tongue. Any potential words of comfort get stuck in her throat. The last thing she wants is for Lauren to get offended or lash out on her for saying something. Or worse saying the wrong something.