[17]

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Cameron's POV

I lot of the time in my life, I think I'm imagining things or didn't hear them right. Maybe it's because Half of the time I have an attention span of an ant, and half of the time I don't give a shit about what people are talking to me about. This is one of those times.

"Seriously?" I exclaim staring at her with wide eyes.

She nods. "I guess it's okay. I mean, I do kind of want to go, and it's not like anyone else has asked me to go with them or anything."

I frown. That's impossible.

"How is that possible? You're beautiful" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

She looks taken-a-back and stutters, blushing profoundly. "Thanks, I guess."

Do I not contain a mouth filter? I keep making impossibly awkward situations even more awkward then they were to begin with. It's a talent really, and is probably the reason that only a select few can handle being my friend.

"You're welcome."

She smiles awkwardly in return and ducks her head down to look at her lap, fiddling in her seat.

I notice and chuckle making her glance up at me. "Do you want to go?" I ask and she nods quickly.

"I have to go to the bathroom first" she says standing up quickly from her seat.

I have no idea how it happens, but I don't notice the table cloth stuck in her belt until she's already turning to walk in the direction of the bathroom. By then it's too late, and with a loud noise she unintentionally pulls the table cloth off the table. Everything that was a moment ago on the table falls to the floor with a crash, and the glass cups and bowls shatter into a million pieces.

Cue around fifty pairs of eyes turning to stare at me, and a mortified-covered-in-food Lexie.

I try to contain myself, I really do, but I can't help but let out a small laugh at how mortifying and awkward the situation is.

God must not be on my side today, because Lexie hears me and snaps her head up to look at me in shock. "Why are you laughing? Do you think this is funny?"

I somber up. "No. It's not funny at all."

She looks back and forth from the wreckage on the floor to me, until her gaze finally stops on me, and she narrows her eyes. "You did this, didn't you?"

"No."

She scoffs and if looks could kill, I would have been six feet under by now. "You planned this. I can't believe you!"

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" I exclaim taking a step toward her, while attempting to avoid all the broken glass on the floor. "I had no idea that this was going to happen."

"Liar!"

"Can you lower your voice?" I look around us and notice that everyone in the restaurant is straining to hear our obviously heated conversation, even the waiters.

Shouldn't they be more worried that we just turned their restaurant into World War ll, then the fact that we're having a 'lovers quarrel' or whatever?

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