House Of Cards

14. "Our little secret."

"That's her."

"Lauren, that can't be her, we were just talking about her, New Orleans is a big city, there's no way. It's too cliché." I wasn't sure if Camila didn't believe me or just hoped it wasn't true.

"We used to come here most Mondays with our friends, the music is always good, that's why I was taking you. It's so unknown that the possibility that it's actually her is very high."

"Which one is she?"

"I'm not going to point her out, Camz."

"Why, is she looking at us?"

"Well, no,"

"Then just do it discretely!" Camila urged.

I contemplate it for a moment but give up pretty quickly. If I didn't point her out, I'm almost sure that Camila would start going up to random strangers and ask their names. That's just quirky Camila as a result of indecisive Lauren.

I trust Camila, that's for sure. I think I trusted her when we started going out for coffee or when I told her and Dinah I was gay in high school. She's easy to talk to and gives off the impression that her lips are constantly locked, no key ever made.

So I do it, I point out the think figure in loose pants and a crop top that's really just a bandeau. I almost scoff at the outfit because it's so Lucy. She knows she's hot but isn't cocky about it yet knows how to dress to show it off. Her intentions are almost as confusing as her love life.

"Where are her clothes?"

"Shut up, Camila." I roll my eyes and nudge her playfully.

"Are you going to go say hi?" Camila's question seems thought out and careful. From the lack of eye contact, (her eyes are planted on her fingers that are toying with the beads) she's not too confident in it.

"I feel like I have to. " I admitted.

"You don't have to," she looked up. "But if that's what feels right, then that's what feels right."

I nodded aimlessly, acknowledging that I was listening but not really commuting to anything.

This whole thing felt dumb. Bringing Camila to this exact place on a Monday was basically a death wish, but I apparently forgot to put my head on straight this morning.

I hated small talk, I hated meaningless conversations with someone that used to be meaningful and I knew that was exactly what was coming. Lucy would look good, probably got another tattoo, and I would look the same without much to share.

Then, she would ask who Camila was and I wouldn't have an answer. What would I even say?

That she's my coworker? Well no, I don't work at the school.

That she's my boss? No, I'm volunteering.

That she's a friend? Too vague and brings up even more questions than it answers.

That she's kinda my old teacher (but not really) who I was crushing on big time in high school. Now, five years later, I basically tricked her into going out with me and we kiss every once in a while? Definitely not.