Smash Into You

Chapter 25: Honest

"Camz," Lauren called softly, but I ignored her as I buried my face more into her stomach. My body shook as I held her, jaw rigid as I attempted to get a hold of myself. We had been like that on the bathroom floor for a long time; her on her knees, holding me, and me clinging to her, shaking.

"Camila..." She called again quietly, running her hand through my hair as she leaned down to envelope me completely, dragging her fingers through before gently scratching my scalp, "Why are you shaking? Babe, what's wrong?"

I squeezed her more, too afraid to answer her question.

I woke up with a throbbing headache and a desert dry throat. Swallowing at nothing, I opened my eyes to the burning sunlight. Vision blurring, I blinked, bringing my hands to my eyes as I rubbed them gently. Crumbs dusted and rubbed across my fingertips, and with a frown, I realized they could only be from dried up tears.

Turning my head, I took in my surroundings. I was in the bed, alone, with the sheets embracing me at all ends. The sunlight continued to come in through the curtains, which allowed me to see the specks of dust dancing above me. With another blink, I attempted to sit up.

Again I noticed I was completely alone. It was so quiet that the silence was bounding at my ears, or maybe that was the killer headache. I swallowed again, and realized how disgusting the inside of my mouth tasted. With a secure hand to my head, attempting not to allow it to move too much because the room still seemed to spin in the most sickening away, I shifted and swung my legs from the bed.

Standing up, I wobbled to the bathroom. Then, running the water, I leaned against the sink and attempted to gather myself. When I was able to stand without my hands holding onto something, I cupped my fingers under allowed water to fill up my palms before splashing some on my face.

That was so much better. When I was satisfied, I clumsily slapped the nob to stop the running and wobbled back to the room.

Again, I took in how completely and totally alone I was. Frowning, I moved to the door and walked out.

Walking down the hall seemed like the hardest part. I think about twice I ended up just leaning against the wall and just standing there. Eventually, though, I reached the rest of the apartment with the sound of music playing and someone rampaging in the kitchen.

I swallowed, carefully moving towards the doorway. When I reached the area, I saw dark brown hair swing from side to side as a happy hum circled around me. She danced a bit as she flipped whatever was in the pan, even twirled as she moved towards the other pan.

The moment she twirled is when she noticed my pathetic stature.

I was leaning heavily against the doorway, one arm across my stomach as the other was used to make sure I wouldn't fall. The moment her eyes met mine, she froze. As she stared, I grew uncomfortable and turned around, moving towards the living room.

She didn't bother stopping me, which made me anxious. I only felt that way for a moment though, because as soon as I managed to lie down on the couch, I curled in a ball and stayed there. I held on to my stomach as my head throbbed, causing me to curl even more.

My mind and the room were swirling around me, so I didn't know how long I was lying there like that. All I know was that I was staring ahead, too sick to close my eyes because it would make me feel worse. I'm sure I looked dead and pathetic, but I just wanted to get better as soon as I could so I kept perfectly still.

Time just danced by, and I hadn't moved an inch from the moment I touched down on the couch. In the middle of me being a pile of crap, I saw legs pass by. I blinked, my headache not allowing me to shift to see what Lauren was up to. So instead I stared again as she placed down a plate right on the table in front of me. A second later, a second plate with food was set on the table.

She left again before coming back with two cups of orange juice. When she placed them down on the table, I took in what she had cooked. There was French toast, hash browns, and a small plate of eggs. I blinked and saw all the starchy materials. With a small twinge of gratitude, I realized she cooked all of this just for the hangover she knew I would have.

I wanted to move, to get up and say my thanks and inhale it all just to show how thankful I was, but I was too sick to move. So, I continued to lie there, hoping she understood this wasn't by choice.

She just might have already known I wasn't going to move any time soon, because I watched her legs disappear as she climbed to on the couch. Then, gently, she lifted my head to lie on her lap. I allowed her to do so, getting comfortable in position. Then with a glance up towards her, I saw her smile and felt as she carefully played with my hair.

We didn't say a word. I laid on her like that as she continued to nurture me back to health. She hadn't started eating either; I guessed she was waiting for me. I wanted to rush it. I tried a couple of times to sit up so I didn't have her starving just because of me being foolish, but every single time she would gently push my chest back down and told me to stop.

Images of last night toyed with my mind. Every moan, whimper, and whine was burned into my memory. The sounds were taunting me, poking at me as I cringed and shook at every recollection that played like a home movie.

All over again, I became scared. All over again, I started to tremble. She ran her hand down my shoulder and arm as she mumbled, "Why are you shaking, Camz..."

I trembled as I shut my eyes, not knowing how to answer. Instead, I just laid there, listening as she risked it all and asked,

"What are you so scared of..."

Because there was a line Lauren. There was a line and I cross it with every step I take. How many times, Lauren? How many times are you willing to forgive my mistakes? Like last night? I need to know, I do. Because if I stray away from that line. If I continue to step over that carefully drawn line, I have to use fear as a motive.

The fear of losing you trumped the feelings that were pounding at me, trying so hard to get out. How would you feel Lauren? What would you say?

Could we have gotten what we wanted
Oh, if we had just been honest?