18

4.2K 122 47
                                    

Lauren's PoV

The next day came all too quickly. We'd finished breakfast around eight, and by nine o clock our group was stood outside a small grey Poetry museum. The streets around us were bustling and busy, and whilst my group went over the plans for today I found myself zoning out and staring at the busy streets and towering buildings. The sky was a light blue, covered in grey clouds, and it looked like any minute now the first droplets of rain would fall. I shivered slightly in my black puff-a coat and grey jeans, realising Christmas in New York was nothing like Christmas back home in Miami.

I felt a presence move beside me, and I looked discreetly to find Camila by my side. Her brown eyes were trained on Mr Rogers as he set out instructions, and her arms were held around her waist to help the cold. I noticed Camila always seemed to look good, no matter the weather. She was attired in a long pink buttoned coat that I'd seen her wear the first day of the trip, but my eyes were surprised to see her makeup-free and fitted in a pair of black jeans. She looked so much younger like this- dressed casual and light- and it seemed as if Camila never stopped failing to amaze me.

It took me a minute to realise I was blatantly staring at her, before I averted my gaze to Mr Rogers as he spoke.

The words 'poetry', 'handbook', and 'quiz' passed through my mind in a muffled blur, before I realised everyone was already walking up the steps to the museum.

Shawn had gone ahead, his interest in poetry overtaking him, whereas I stalked behind in bored fashion.

"Bored Lauren?" Camila asked beside me.

"A bit." I mumbled, opening the front doors for her to go in before me. "You know, when I came on this trip I expected it to be fun, not just long coach rides and boring museums."

She chuckled, tucking a loose wave behind her ear that had fallen gently in her face. "Don't worry. We do fun things later. But this trip is still educational."

We fell into silence, strolling beside each other as we followed close behind our group. The museum was quiet, colourful and surprisingly modern, and brought a fun atmosphere that I didn't know museums had the power to do.

Camila's eyes seemed to brighten at all the poems and writings displayed around the large room, and I wondered how much writing really meant to her. Not only did her eyes glow, but her lips were set into one of the softest smiles I'd ever seen. I felt mesmerised watching her, and as if I was imposing of something she was meant to witness alone.

The next hour was spent listening to Camila and Mr Rogers lecture us about some of the famous poets we'd seen, and then a small activity where we filled out a quiz booklet on everything we'd seen in the museum.

I mostly stayed in my own thoughts the rest of the morning, as we strolled around historical buildings and ate lunch in an Italian restaurant that was hidden under ground. It was nice really, exploring New York with a small group of people, and not to mention Camila. She seemed the most interested in everything out of our group, and I wondered how often she had the chance to travel outside of her job. For me, I travelled every Easter and summer holidays. In Easter mom and I would always spend a week down in California, and in the summer it would vary between Europe and South America. But with Camila she didn't seem like the type to get out much, and I realised most often she'd be inside her apartment, alone.

The afternoon was a quiet one. We'd been given a task to explore a mall close to the museum, and had been told to write down in our booklets anything that inspired us. Shawn and I mostly goofed that one out, writing down random things, but I did get a chance to write down a few inspirational things.

By 5 o clock the city was already dark, and the moon was bright in the sky. I noticed the further down the street we walked, the busier it began to get. All sorts of people were bustling about, scarves hats and gloves wrapped tightly around them, and steaming cups of what I assumed was coffee held in their hands. It was only when we rounded a corner did I realise exactly where we were. Central Park.

Miss Cabello (Camren)Opowieści tętniące życiem. Odkryj je teraz