Chapter 13: i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck

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A/N: 3 months later yeah I know :L . Apologies for any typos. 

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A part of her – a very large part – wants to ignore the knocking at her window. She wants to remain buried in her bed and soak in her misery. She wants to hide in her fears and curl into her sadness, and create a barrier from what Lauren has to offer.

What the offer is exactly Camila isn't so sure herself. But the thought of considering leaves her hesitant.

And yet, the other part – the part that urges her to open up the window – still relishes in the excitement from hearing the knock. The desire to see her neighbor is still there. She still yearns for her presence. Even in this wretched state.

And at this point, Camila doesn't know which one is worse.

She pushes the blanket off her body, feeling Dinah's eyes on her. She waits for Dinah to speak; nothing comes but the strained silence.

Her body protests as she rises from the bed. She bends over the edge, and reaches for her pants, tugging them on.

The knocking falters, and for a hopeful moment Camila thinks Lauren has left. But then it continues. And so does the perplexing mix of disappointment and elation when Camila pulls back the curtains to reveal Lauren standing behind the window.

Camila opens the latch, and instantly Lauren speaks up before she can offer any sort of greeting.

"You left your sweater," Lauren says holding up the hoodie. "Well, technically I guess you didn't leave it. I was the one that took it from you. I mean I forgot to give it back. I tried to, but you kind of just booked it. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye or, I don't know, say anything."

Camila silently watches as Lauren rambles. An overwhelming surge of emotion hits her upon studying the girl before her.

She sees Lauren, flushed and speaking so animatedly, and sees the same Lauren she had been so pathetically in love with. She can see the same Lauren smiling sheepishly. She can see the soft green gaze, and feel the gentle touch of her hand. She can even see the annoyingly adorable habit Lauren had of running a through her hair.

In fact, the present Lauren does so as if reading her thoughts.

The act creates a twinge of bitterness, heightened by the recent conversation with Dinah, which seeps into her veins like poison, coagulating her thoughts and turning her mind into sluggish disarray.

Camila feels her lips fall into a heavy frown as Lauren continues to talk completely unaware of how unreceptive Camila is to the one-sided conversation.

Memories begin to flood languidly through her inflicted mind. Recollections of specific details pertaining to Lauren. To the feelings that she felt whenever she was around her.

Lauren had always been her favorite person – right after Dinah.

The nostalgia hits in the most unpleasant way, as the past comes in perfectly, and the moment she reacts to one particular memory it becomes diluted in grief. Like the pages of her favorite childhood book had been torn and don't fit properly into their binding after being taped back up.

Now it seems as if Camila is just lost in translation, trying to flip back to the beginning chapters of their story. But she's detached from the beginning, as if someone kept the middle pages away from her. Jagged, ripped empty gaps.

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