A Light in the Dark

Chapter 82

She stepped out of the bathroom and pulled her hair into a messy bun. It was damp from the shower, but she would deal with it later. There were more important things she had to do right now.

A quick glance towards the queen-sized bed assured her that Lauren was still sound asleep. This was already the second time that she was awake before her. Usually the roles were reversed. Although, to be fair... she wasn't entirely innocent in this new development.

She tiptoed out of the bedroom and silently closed the door behind her. An ear pressed against the wood, she listened with bated breath to any noise that could indicate that Lauren had woken up, but the only thing she heard was a tiny snore.

Thrusting her fist in the air, Camila stepped back, a massive grin on her face. She had done it! She had actually succeeded! Lauren was such a light sleeper, she had doubted that sneaking out of bed and out of the room would work. But she couldn't waste her time with celebrating. What if Lauren turned around in her sleep and noticed that she wasn't there anymore? What if she reached out for her, only to touch the cold, empty space next to her?

No, she needed the kitchen. But where was it? The smile slowly faded as she glanced around the hallway, feverishly trying to remember the swift tour Lauren had given her of this place. It was useless. In her old apartment it had taken her days  to figure out which door was leading to which room.

Scratching her head, she haphazardly opened door after door, stealing glances into a storage closet, the living room and the entrance hall, before she finally found the right one. It just had to be the last one she tried. Of fucking course.

After a quick look around the kitchen, she cracked her fingers and closed the door behind her. The truly fun part could begin. She had already spotted the different kinds of fruit in a bowl on the table, indicating that either Clara or Mike had bought some groceries for them over the holidays and a look into the fridge confirmed her theory. Lauren's parents had gone above and beyond her expectations. It was filled to the brim. One thing was clear; they certainly wouldn't starve during their stay.

Grinning madly, Camila took out some butter, eggs, milk, and bacon, and set them aside on the counter before looking for spices and the right equipment. The beauty in cooking your own breakfast was definitely that no one could force you to eat healthy. Not even Lauren. Camila had eaten enough vegetables and salads that would probably last her for a lifetime – she was in dire need of bacon. And she would finally get some. If Lauren had anything to criticize, she would just point to the fruit salad that she was going to make later as well.

Cooking was a lot like riding a bicycle. She hadn't properly cooked in over a year, but as she expertly cut the various fruits while keeping a watchful eye on the stove, she noticed that it wasn't any harder than it used to be. Sure, in the beginning it had been the most difficult thing ever – almost impossible and with some injury here and there – but with practice it became easy. Yes, there had been many burned and downright awful  dishes along the way, but she had mastered it.

Maybe she could even surprise Lauren one evening with a nice dinner, along with a bouquet of sunflowers or something. Breakfast was breakfast, but she could throw together a mean arroz con pollo. Lauren wouldn't know what hit her. For that plan to work, however, she needed to get Lauren out of the apartment. Perhaps a consult with Dinah was in order.

"And this is what I call a healthy breakfast," Camila muttered to herself as the bacon sizzled in the pan and filled the kitchen with its delicious smell. The scrambled eggs were coming along nicely as well.

She nodded satisfied and flipped the bacon strips around to make them a bit crispier before putting two slices of bread into the toaster. Everything had to be perfect. After all, this was the first time she would serve her girlfriend breakfast in bed. Her eyes swept through the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly she had seen the bed trays last night. They had to be somewhere.