colours. (camren)

Chapter 7

Lauren POV 

My knees were weak, my feet were dragging, my shoulders were hunched. Since when did walking home become such a difficult task? If time ever stopped, it would've been right then as I made no headway in approaching my neighbourhood, or so I thought. 

I watched my feet as I dragged them across the jagged concrete sidewalk, internally telling myself that I can make it home without falling to my knees, too weak to continue on. Without self-recognition, I made it to the front door step, still able to proceed up the stairs to my room. My parents were in the living room and saw me come in. 

"Hey Lauren, how was school?", my dad said not looking up from the newspaper he was reading in his favourite armchair. I had no response for him, so I just threw myself up the stairs, internally telling myself that I was almost to my bed. 

This day had drained me physically and emotionally, and hopefully with a little rest, I will feel a little less like shit and talk to Camila. If she thinks about me like I hope she does, she may be worried about me. But my body will not allow me to tell her what's actually happening in fear of rejection and disgust. If I even begin to think about telling her about me, it would have to be a while from now if she made herself trustworthy to me, and if she proves she wants to stay. 

Stumbling onto the last step, I gripped the railing and stretched my back out straight as I had realised upon that action that I was slouching. 

"Finally", I whispered opening my bedroom door and throwing myself on my bed, releasing a squeak from the mattress while I bounced on it waiting for my body to settle. With everything I had been through today, I knew I had worked up a stink, physically and mentally. But I could only tend to one of those at this point in time. I took a deep breath and sighed thinking about the amount of nonexistent energy I had to exert to perform this simple, everyday task. As my feet were hanging off of my bed, I raised them above my head in order to gain momentum to get myself off the bed. It took a few tries to get up but once I did, I was unstoppable. 

I made this action a quick one as I just wanted to get to sleep. I quickly stripped and rush into the shower, not even waiting for it to warm up a bit. The severity of desperation there was uncanny. I stood under the shower head just letting the water run over my skin and hair, replaying the scenes of today, trying to wash away my everlasting guilt with it. 

Suddenly my mind ran to Camila. What an awkward time to think about her. How we only just met and yet I feel like we've been friends forever, and can tell each other anything. If only. My thought tracked from thinking about her personality and how addicting it could become, straight to her physical stature. The way her hair effortlessly flows down her shoulders in waves, the smile that make people turn and stare, the way she bites her lip when she concentrates. all these little things could make anyone fall in love with her. 

My mind was relentless in making me think about this girl. Anything I did aided in my reoccurrence in my mind. The longer I thought about her, the more inappropriate the thoughts became. It slowly drifted to me carefully focusing on her body. 

If she looked that good with clothes on, imagine how she'd look if she di....

My thoughts were interrupted with a surge of heat shooting through my lower region. The longer I left it, the more burning the desire to release the urge became. I couldn't do this. I closed my eyes and walked backwards so that my back was against the cold tile of the shower wall. My eyes were closed so tightly as I tried to push everything out of my mind. With all of the indications that my body was waiting for this release, I knew I had to fight back.

I gripped myself hoping this urge would subside. It took all of me to not just go through with it, but I didn't want to have to think about her that way. It would make our actual face-to-face conversations very awkward for me.