Talk To Me (Camren)

Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

Lauren's POV

I had no idea where I was, but that wasn't my main focus. Alexa's house? Yeah, that's right, Alexa's house.

"He didn't even care about my feelings you know."

I nodded.

"Sometimes I wonder why I can't get one of the nice ones, you know? Like, a good guy but not a pussy. Strong, tan, muscular guy. A lifeguard maybe. Lifeguards are sexy as fuck."

Alexa and I had come to Alexa's house after school to let her vent about a boy who she had had a fling with. When she was done rambling, which could take a while, I was planning on telling her about my boyfriend problem. Luis was her best friend so maybe she had an idea of what I should do,

Camila came rushing down Alexa's basement stairs and trudged towards us looking like she was going to explode with anger.

"Hey, Camz," I greeted dumbly.

Alexa and I both stared at a fuming Camila that stood before us.

Camila didn't pay any mind to my welcome as she demanded, "Stand up."

I blinked.

"Stand up, Lauren," this time she said it with more aggravation.

I rose to my feet, not knowing what to expect before Camila grabbed my face and pulled me into a fervent kiss. Her pink lips crushed against mine forcefully. I could feel the lust radiating off of Camila as she buried her hands in my hair, pushing me against her body to which I did not protest. After I recovered from shock, I started to reciprocate, making the kiss slow down to a less rushed action. I gripped her waist, not letting go until we stopped for air.

"What the fuck was that?!" Alexa's dumbfounded voice yelled with amusement.

I stared at Camila.

My thoughts exactly.

My eyes snapped open. A white ceiling glared back at me. It was a fucking dream.

I observed my conditions after my unforeseen dream. My breathing was heavy, my hands hadn't stopped gripping onto my covers, and my body felt hot. I sat up, pushing my hair back, mind racing. My mouth felt sticky and I swallowed as I replayed the dream again and again. I placed my fingers over my lips. What had they felt like being pressed against her full ones? Oh shit, I'm starting to forget. There's nothing to forget, it wasn't even real. My imagination had made it feel so fucking real.

What did this mean? I rarely had dreams. I read somewhere that dreams can reflect emotional events, like anticipation, fear, or repressed love/desire.

Heat rushed to my cheeks when it hit me that I had just dreamed about Camila kissing me. It was so demanding and sexy, and it made me squirm with desire just thinking about it.

My Saturday morning was otherwise uneventful. It wasn't until I was home alone at around noon that I allowed myself to reminisce back on the dream. Sure I had thought about kissing Camila a good number of times, but I always felt guilty afterwords. Now, it was the only thing I could think about. I had never had these kinds of thoughts about any girl before. Sure, girls could be really attractive but I never had the craving to push one against the wall and do...things.

I went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Maybe I could not only clean the dishes, but also my dirty thoughts.

Ding dong

I changed my path to the kitchen to the front door. Luis stood at the other side of the door when I opened it.

"Hey Lo."

Oh great, this is not what I needed right now. It was becoming more of a chore to spend time with my boyfriend than a pleasure.

I forced a smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace, "Hi, Felipe."

"Is it a bad time?" He shifted uncomfortably as he stuffed his hands in the large pockets of his cargo shorts.

"Eh, not necessarily. C'mon, come in." He might as well stay if he came all this way.

"Nobody's home," I said as we made our way into the living room. It wasn't meant to be suggestive, but when I saw Luis smirk I realized it must have sounded like it.

"Mmm," Luis hummed, "Really now?"

"Yup," I said quickly, trying to defuse the flirtatious tension.

It didn't work because before I knew it, we were kissing and he was pushing me onto the couch. For a second, I pretended that he was Camila. That his dry lips were Camila's smooth ones and his big, rough hands were Camila's feminine, soft hands. Unfortunately, that was not the case and I stopped him once I felt his needy hands tugging my shirt up.

"They should be home any minute, though," I lied desperately against his lips.

He pouted, "Aw, okay," he stood, "I just came because I left my history book here. I have to study for an exam or my mom will kill me. Do you know where it is?"

I pointed wordlessly to the book lying under the chair. I was relieved that it seemed like he was going to leave.

He retrieved the textbook, "Thanks. I guess I'll see you later then."

I don't know if he was expecting me to tell him to stay, but I didn't. The upsetting thought occurred to me that he didn't see a need to stay if we weren't going to have sex. Stupid horny teenaged boys.

Soon after he left, I collapsed onto the couch. This was not good. Definitely not good.