after this night (camren)

28. Camila

I crossed my arms, "What happened in college between you and Lucy?"

......

"What?" she asked, blinking her eyes.

"Were you involved with her?"

"No"

"Did anything happen with her?" I asked once more, and this time I felt like the lawyer, turning over the question again and again until the witnessed answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I need to spell it out?"

"Yeah. You do" she said firmly.

I pretended to mime sign language as I spoke, "were you involved with her? Because I'm getting a serious vibe from her that she's tripping down memory lane from the days of old" I said, now holding my hands out wide, "College this. College that. Lauren in college. It's like she's holding on to something in the college with you"

"We kissed once. We weren't involved"

She said it so matter-of-factly, but it slammed into me, and I nearly stumbled backward. She reached for me, but I held her off. I was fine. I didn't need her.

"Ohh" I said, long and exaggerated, "Right. Of course. A kiss. That's not involved what-so-fucking-ever"

"What the hell, Camila? I was never involved with her. She'd a friend. Not an ex-girlfriend"

"You kissed her" I said, jutting my chin out at her, "That makes her kind of an ex, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't think that constitutes an ex" The low-key way she answered pissed me off, because she truly seemed to believe her own line of bullshit.

"Okay, let's get technical and legal about it then, if you're going to be like that. So I'll walk you through what constitutes being involved. When you've kissed someone, and I ask 'Were you involved with her?' that's the moment when you say 'Yes, I kissed her once, Camila, and it meant nothing to me, and we've been great friends ever since then, and I have drinks with her every Tuesday night and talk about you, but don't worry that I had my tongue down her throat because we're just friends'. It's not at the fucking poker game I'm losing that you tell me" I said, practically spitting out the words through my anger.

"Are you pissed that you're losing, or are you pissed that I kissed her?" she asked me through narrowed eyes.

Anger flared deep inside me. Anger over that woman. Over Austin. Over the three thousand miles between me and Lauren. Nager, annoyance and frustration all fused into a cocktail of heat and rage as I grabbed her shirt collar, "Thanks for pointing that out, because it's kind of both. I have a shitstorm of trouble waiting for me back home if I don't win" I said.

"That's not true. I told you I'd help you" she said, and her hand moved briefly toward her pocket, but then she stopped.

"Why do you keep reaching for your phone? That's not your style"

"Zayn is out with the Bainbridge's. Just wanted to make sure it's all going well" she said, then shifted quickly back to the matter at hand, "but I wish you'd stop worrying about the game. You're going to be fine"

"I don't want you to help me, though. I want to win on my own" I said, and I was damn near close to digging my heels into the sidewalk. Didn't she get it? Didn't she understand how important this was to me? But everything had collided right now. the game, Lucy, the possibility of truth and lies.

"And you will"

I pushed my hands through my hair, "I just wish you'd told me when I asked you in Miami if you'd been involved with her. I asked you if Lucy was your ex and you said she was just a friend, and always had been. But now it turns out you kissed her" I said, but I knew deep down it wasn't the kiss that bothered me. That wasn't why I was upset about Lucy.