20: three candidates

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"JEREMY, WHAT DO I even do?"

"Wait, what the fuck? Why did you wake me up?"

"After you dropped me off I kissed your teammate."

"Laurent? What the fuck. Why'd you put your moves on so fast?"

"I didn't know!"

"You didn't know what?"

"That he hates me!"

"He doesn't hate you!"

"He does, Jeremy. Right after I kissed him he told me no."

"No what? No kissing? How old are you?"

"No nothing! Nothing! I feel like such an idiot, oh my gosh."

"Chill out. He's just Laurent, you know. It doesn't even matter if he doesn't like you back because it's not like he has much to offer anyways."

"Jeremy..."

"You're not in love."

"Jer—"

"You're not fucking in love, you don't even know him. Camila stop being stupid. He's just a kid boy."

"But his eyes."

"Heterochromia is found in six out of a thousand people. There's about, I don't know, five to six hundred people in our high school? You already have three candidates. Suck it up."

"It's not just his eyes. It's his—"

"Personality. Aura. Whatever you believe in that doesn't exist."

"How about soul?"

Jeremy sighs into the phone.

"You can't force people to like you, Camila. Especially when you don't even know them. It's also far past midnight and I have an invitational tomorrow. Text me next time. Don't call."

"You know...this is why I talk to Elle more than I do with you."

"The fuc—"

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