Blame It On Bad Luck (Camren)

Chapter 8

Camila was up earlier than she planned. The apartment was dead quiet and still relatively dark as the sun was only just starting to peek through the windows of the living room. She could see Lauren still passed out on the couch from where she sat on the kitchen counter, her feet dangling. She sighed quietly as she glanced down at her phone resting by her thigh. She checked it again. No new messages.

She leaned her head back against the top cabinet, reaching for the bag of miniature peanut butter cups next to her coffee. It wasn't an ideal breakfast but it was comforting and Camila was exhausted and upset and she found herself unwrapping another cup before she could convince herself to eat something healthier.

She'd been up for nearly an hour and a half by then but couldn't find the energy to make any moves to get ready for work. She knew she should be excited but after the previous night she didn't think she wanted to bother handling the day ahead of her. She just wanted to lie in bed and forget everything.

She stared blankly at the counter opposite from her, unblinking in an almost trance like state. She barely even noticed when a low groaning sounded from the living room. The only thing that brought her attention back was a loud thud followed by the unmistakable sound of deep coughs. She snapped her head towards the couch just in time to see her roommate pulling herself up from the floor.

"Good morning," Camila offered, her voice quiet and reserved.

"Oh my God," she mumbled, holding the side of her head, right where her staples were. "Who the fuck allowed me to sleep on the couch?" She straightened herself out a bit and glanced down at her clothes. "And more importantly, who the fuck allowed me to sleep in jeans?"

"Sorry, I tried to get you to come inside but you were out for the count." Her voice was still low and she wasn't really making any direct eye contact with the girl either. Lauren either didn't notice or didn't care. Instead she undid her button and zipper and yanked her jeans off, tossing them aside. Camila blinked a couple times but didn't say anything and went back to staring at the cabinets.

Lauren stood in her large grey sweater that just barely reached past her underwear and walked around the couch making her way to the kitchen when she paused to look at Camila. She picked up her jeans and folded them, setting them aside. Camila watched her then, confused at seeing her actually pick up after herself for once.

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked, her own voice still thick with sleep and even raspier than the night before.

"I don't know. Seven maybe."

"Jesus, why are we even up?" She rubbed her eyes and hopped up on the counter opposite from Camila, her sweater riding up her thighs a little.

"Work," she shrugged. Lauren raised an eyebrow, finally picking up on her monotonous responses.

"What bit you in the butt this morning?"

"Nothing."

"Ooookay..." she trailed off, not bothering to push it further than that and she coughed dryly into her elbow.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like garbage."

"You look it too," she said flatly, unwrapping another peanut butter cup just as Lauren reached over and smacked her in the knee, making a face at her weak joke. Camila attempted to breathe out a light laugh but it sounded tired.

"Peanut butter cups for breakfast?" she asked after a moment of—surprisingly not uncomfortable—silence. Camila simply shrugged again, biting into the snack and chewing it slowly.