Lauren loved being with Camila.
Going out with her, staying in just watching movies and cuddling her, holding her, kissing her. She loved every thing about it. Except one thing.
Camila not being hers officially was driving her mad. It was just not a possibility anymore. Yes, they were dating, and spent all their time together, and didn't hold back on publicly showing affection (except maybe in front of Camila's parents), but still tiptoeing around the accurate way to introduce eachother to other people was annoying. What were they supposed to say? Hey, this is Camila, my bestfriend? – that just sounded wrong.
You don't kiss your best friends.
Or make love to them.
Love.
That was another thing on Lauren's mind. Was it too soon to use that word? Timing is definitely important, but is timing more important than honesty and self-disclosure?
No.
But maybe she wouldn't say that just yet.
"What are you thinking about, babe?" Camila ran a hand through dark locks while looking deeply into her green eyes.
"Um...nothing. I should probably head home, though."
"What? Why?" Camila sat up a bit.
"Because your dad keeps giving me death glares each time he's in my line of sight," Lauren jokes but Camila actually looked upset for a moment. "No, really, I should go. It's getting late and I have to have dinner with my dad."
"Ugh," the brunette dropped her head back on her chest for a moment. "I need to talk to my dad."
"I–um, I actually wanted to ask you something," the green eyed said kind of nervously and Camila picked up on it, sitting up yet again but staying close to her. Lauren thought she might as well just shoot it. "Do your parents know about me?"
"About you...?" the smaller girl furrowed her eyebrows at her cryptic question.
"Yea. Like about my condition, Camila," Lauren stressed.
"What do you mean? And why does that matter?"
"God, did you tell them or not?" Lauren raised her voice and Camila frowned, sitting up completely. "I'd like to know. You know, it's kind of a big deal."
"No, I didn't tell them anything. It isn't mine to tell," the brunette didn't break eye contact and saw Lauren's eyes turn more inquisitive.
"Is that why?"
"Yes. What–what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Would you want to tell them? Eventually?" the dark haired girl diverted the question.
"If you want to. It's up to you, Laur," Camila said more softly now, sensing some insecurities on her part. She didn't want that.
"So, you're not scared of their reactions?"
Camila shuffled a bit closer to her. "Lauren...what is this about, really?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to know what you thought of it. I guess...we've never really talked about it."
"I didn't know you wanted to," Camila lowered her voice significantly when she heard her parents going into the kitchen and her father stealing glances at both of them, on the couch in the living room. "But you should know you can talk to me about whatever you want. You know that, right?"
"Yes, baby, I do. I'm sorry," Lauren grabbed her hand gently and ran her thumb across the back, then bringing it to her lips to peck it.
"It's okay. Don't apologize," the brunette blushed mildly and intertwined their fingers. "But do you want to tell them? Eventually?"
