Question Marks ➳ Camren

Ten

All rights go to original author.

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When I run into Camila the following morning, I feel like my heart is on fire. It shocks me to no end that people don't stare at her for hours like I want to. She attracts looks, no doubt, but everyone else gazes at her like she's an object to be manipulated. They see her long legs disappearing under a black skirt and the delicate curve of her collarbones arching across her chest and the full lips and the swell of her chest - and that's all beautiful, trust me, but it's not all I see. I see her laughter and her happy chocolate eyes and her kindness, her patience, her honesty and loyalty and love. She's bursting with it. And that makes her more than the attractive thing that other people see. It makes her a person.

"You're staring at me."

Camila laughs. She touches my elbow very carefully, as platonic as she can make the gesture seem, before quickly pulling it away. It's a practiced movement, one we have done a dozen times before. It's her not being able to refrain from touching me altogether, but keeping it friendly. I open my mouth to protest before zipping my lips shut. My parents know - I told her about the confrontation this morning. She had been so surprised she couldn't stop herself from crushing me in a hug. It was a step, sure, but it had taken over a month to get to that point. I smile back at her, reaching up and tucking a strand of silky dark hair behind her ear. It's an intimate gesture, something we don't do here at school very often. Camila is noticeably wary of reacting; I can see in the way her hands twitch and her eyes grow heavy that she wants to hold me closer, kiss me, but we're in the middle of the hallway. My fingertips ski down her jaw.

"You're beautiful."

Camila's cheeks burn. She ducks her head slightly before looking up at me through the gaps in her thick lashes. "Thank you."

I want to kiss her. I want to hold her cheeks and kiss her in front of all the mumbling students passing through. But I hold back, bite my tongue, swallow the urge away. I can't plunge into this without knowing how to swim. It's going to take time and I have to allow myself that to adjust or everything will fall apart.

I've accepted that I might not be straight. As far as being a lesbian - I don't think so. I'm attracted to guys. I'm attracted to Camila. Maybe I'm attracted to all kinds of people. Who knows. What matters is where my feelings lie and who manifests them and in this case, it's Camila. That's important. Not the rest of it. Not the labels or the identification or what other people might say when they see Camila and I together. We're Camila and Lauren. Simply.

After school, I drive the two of us to Camila's house. Like usual, it's empty, but there's evidence that someone other than Camila has been here. An empty pan with cookie crumbs on it is balancing on the kitchen counter, empty coffee cups, a box of blonde hair dye in the trash. It's weird that I even notice, even weirder that Camila tells me her and her mom spent the day together the day before without me having to ask.

"I told her about you," Camila says, words carefully constructed like she had considered them for a long time. She throws in some pizza rolls into the microwave before turning to face me, back against the counter. "That we're, uhm, secret dating."

"Secret dating," I repeat, smiling at her. I sit at her kitchen table. "We sound like spies."

Camila beams, hands folding in front of her. "She said she can't wait to meet you. And I can't wait for you to meet her. It'll be so special. Maybe you can have dinner with us one night, maybe even with my brother, and, oh! On Christmas my abuela comes down and you'll get to meet her, too! And my cousins and aunts and uncles, they'll be so delighted because they love singing and Miami and we could show them around and sing for them and -" Camila chops her words off at the sound of the microwave blaring. She whirls around, tentatively withdrawing the hot plate and standing there for a moment, facing the appliance.