the sound of your heart (camren)

don't you tell me that you "just don't get it" 'cause i know you do

Okay, so Normani's well aware that it really isn't any of her business, best friend or no. Like, not truly.

She just can't help it—it's so interesting to watch unfold in front of her.

Everything has become more obvious now that she's decided to open her eyes and pay attention to what goes on around her. She can see and analyze practically everything (like a hotter, more fashionable, female version of Sherlock Holmes, she likes to think), from the worrying of Camila's lip to Lauren's newfound habit of surreptitiously glancing at Camila when she thinks no one's looking every time the two are in the same room.

It's kind of like TV, she thinks; only gayer, not near as white, and nobody dies at the end.

(Like, fingers crossed, at least.)

-//-

The intermittent hybrid laugh-screeches are getting increasingly louder from its source in the kitchen and really, all Normani knows is that Ally had asked Lauren and Camila to be in charge of the baking while she made a quick trip to the school to pick up some papers she left;all Normani knows is that they're probably making a hell of a freakin' mess in there by the sound of it.

She should probably check the situation out before Ally comes back and flips.

Normani steps in the kitchen—or more like, steps on some flour spilled in the kitchen. She looks down, then looks up to find Lauren and Camila with more flour spilled onto the each other than onto the floor,which is saying something because there's a fair amount of flour spilled on the floor. There's white all over Lauren's black shirt, black jeans, and black hair; there's somehow more on Camila's everywhere—her clothes, her arms, face, even on her glasses.

"Guys, what the fuck," Normani says, crossing her arms. "Seriously? I thought Ally just asked you to mix the ingredients in the bowl."

"We did," Lauren says while Camila wipes her flour-stained glasses on her flour-stained shirt (which, Normani's pretty sure kind of cancels the effect of having clean, flour-less glasses, but she doesn't say anything). "Sorry."

Camila walks over to the counter, steps over a discarded egg carton, and holds out a bowl. "See? Mixed perfectly."

"Then what about the rest of this shit?" Normani says.

"That,"Camila's voice quiets into a mumble, "was kind of an accident."

Normani pinches the bridge of her nose. "Y'all better clean this up."

"We will," Lauren says, bending down to pick up an abused wooden ladle.

Normani leans against the threshold of the kitchen, arms still crossed, spies a white hand print left on Camila's ass, wonders exactly whose hand that belongs to, decides that she's had enough of Lauren and Camila for today, promptly leaves the kitchen with an eye roll and a: "And go take a shower when y'all are done."

Hopefully not together, Normani almost adds; instead she says, "And then go to the store and replace all the stuff you've spilled on the floor."

  -//-  

There's an odd difference in the way Lauren interacts with Camila compared with the way she interacts with the other girls. Normani isn't even sure if it exists, or if she's just reading too much into it.

Call her crazy, or whatever, but there's a distinction between how Lauren talks to someone like, say, Dinah, and how she talks to Camila. There's like, an uptick in her mood, kind of.

Or something.

Normani can't quite put her finger on it.

But it sure is something.