Professor C (camren)

32 - Found

(1)I'm sorry about all the dumb accidental updates. I got excited over my bluetooth keyboard. Yes, anything to make writing on my phone easier because my laptop is too big. (2) CHAPTER 31 is edited. As it turns out, I didn't like it so from 7k words, it has reached 14k. You can go back and read it or not. Up to you. lol! But there's a flashback in there now. (3) Thanks for 2.7k followers!! (4) I'm sorry this is late again. I didn't anticipate 31 to take ages to finish and I had a party to throw, a wedding to help organize, another one to attend, places to go, people to entertain. Weddings are done and I was swamped. (5) I didn't like writing this and writer's block is driving me insane so this is most likely garbage. SORRY. But here's 32! Lezzzz go

The silence of the solemn night was deafening. Words were meager, insufficient for the brimming thoughts restrained by fear.

Lauren wished Camila would stop stirring her cup of tea. The droning, rhythmic scrape of the spoon was sharp in her ear canal. She wished she peeled her eyes off the wooden material of the table and just looked at her.

Most of all, she wished for Camila to speak.

They'd wasted years mulling over what happened. There was no reason to waste any more.

At Lauren's request, they moved to the kitchen, where Lauren had pine needle tea waiting for them.

She took what little power she could by staying on her feet, arms wrapped around herself - a frail armor she wore that would easily disintegrate at Camila's mercy.

But Lauren misunderstood Camila's silence as aversion to talking. Camila was simply contemplative, meticulously picking the right words to say and wondering where to start. All while fighting through deep-seated guilt that churned painfully in her belly.

But since she misunderstood, Lauren decided to ask a question, a subject that was the least grave.

"Are you guys moving?"

Camila shook her head as a response, a distant look in her eyes. Abandoning the spoon, the tip of her forefinger danced around the rim of her mug while her other hand secured it in place.

It was then that Camila realized there was no such thing as the right words, when she could just stick with the truth.

"You're not a-" A sigh tore through her words, frustration clinging to the sound and when she looked up, her eyes revealed an intrepid spark. She'd won against her inhibitions and the intensity of her stare would have pushed Lauren back if she hadn't been leaning against the refrigerator to keep her upright. "You're not my mistress, Lauren."

With a clear, unobstructed view, Lauren could see utter surrender relaxing Camila's features. Shame forced her brows together but Camila's didn't allow it to sever their eye contact. She needed to see the consequences of her actions and if she was meant to be tortured by Lauren's pain, she would accept it.

"Luca's gay. I'm his Austin - his beard or mustache or whatever. Except we took it up a notch and got married." Camila continued without preamble and she swore she could hear a lock unlatch, the cuffs that bound her falling to the ground in a clattering heap. She paused, a disbelieving breath flew out of her parted lips.

That must be what freedom felt like, Camila thought to herself.

"Luca wanted to get married for his grandpa but he also wanted to hide his sexuality. He wanted the old man happy. He didn't care for the inheritance he would get but he needed someone who had no interest in it as well. We had a class together and he sat next to me on the first day and he had just gotten into an argument with his mother. He practically stomped his way to the seat next to mine and crashed down. I asked if he was okay. We talked and we ended up becoming friends, and talked more about our similar predicament.