the sound of your heart (camren)

you say i'm such a cliché

Dating, Normani knows, is something Lauren Jauregui doesn't do.

So when she spies her friend presumably tongue-deep in some random person's mouth, she doesn't even bat an eye, just continues to drink and hope they don't get kicked out for indecency.

It was a very typical Saturday night for the both of them: Lauren getting shoved against a wall, or being led to the bathroom, or doing something inherently sexual, and Normani just glad to be here.

She looks back to check if her friend isn't doing something potentially concerning, but instead sees her walking over the bar where Normani's at, stumbling a few times while she's at it.

"What happened to your, uh, buddy?" Normani asks after helping her up the stool.

Lauren looks up from where she was messing with a paper napkin. "She left." Her brow furrows as if she was trying to recall. "Said she..." Lauren trails off.

"Said she what?" Normani asks.

All Lauren does is give an indifferent shrug. "Dunno. She never finished."

Normani isn't surprised when Lauren looks like she couldn't really care less. She looks her over. Although adequately drunk, hair mussed, lipstick smudged, she still looks fantastically, absurdly beautiful, and is easily considered the hottest person in the entire club. (Like, besides herself, naturally.) Lauren knows it too, Normani figured out a long time ago, loves using it to her advantage, enjoys it, really. Lauren Jauregui can have practically anyone she wants.

And, like, Normani isn't really jealous, though. She has a loving girlfriend, mind you.

"Why aren't you drinking?" Lauren asks, now attempting to make a paper plane out of her napkin.

Normani gives an amused smile. "I'm supposed to be looking out for your ass, remember?" She says like she doesn't tell her that a thousand times already.

Sometimes Lauren's drunk and Normani's relatively sober, other times it's the other way around. More times than not Lauren is the one intoxicated, though, and neither of them are drunk at the same time unless a third and much more responsible body was involved, usually in the form of Ally, Normani's girlfriend and their other roommate.

Lauren nods. "Right." She examines her handiwork on her finished plane. (Now that Normani's really looking at it, it could possibly be a boat too.) "You know, that girl was really pretty." Then with wide eyes Lauren leans over, looking like she's ready to share an earth-shattering secret.

Normani isn't sure what Lauren's doing for a second, but leans the rest of the way in so her best friend doesn't fall and damage her ass.

Fingers cupped to the side of her mouth as to not let anything unwanted reach anyone else's ears, she whispers, "Like, I think she's even prettier than me by like, a whole lot. Like, beautiful." Then she adds: "And her ass is so nice."

"Wow, really?" Normani says with an amused tilt in her voice, wonders how clearly Lauren actually saw her face in the darkness while she was too busy with her hands up the other girl's top.

Lauren nods. "So nice." Then she frowns almost comically. "Oh, no. I miss her, Manibear," she says despairingly.

Normani can't help but laugh at that. Lauren says things like that all the time; she's doubtful the girl even remembers her name. "What was her name?"

It takes her a while to respond. Then, "Camila, I think." Lauren's hands move idly to unfold her airplane/boat. "Or was it Camilla? Cameron? Camden? I don't know." She tries to smoothen out her creased napkin. "Maybe it's time for me to pass out, Mani."
Normani hums in agreement at that.