Serendipity // Camren

Chapter 12

After they had finished their dinner and Lauren had made quick work of a disgustingly large piece of apple pie, a la mode, thank you very much, they obliged their server by posing for a picture together in front of the bakery counter. Lauren smiled at the camera as she wrapped her arm around Camila's shoulder, and her smile grew even wider when she felt Camila's wrap itself around her waist. That was definitely a feeling she could get used to. After the picture, they signed a few autographs for people who had suddenly recognized them because of the camera, and then they made their way out of the deli with Camila's hand tucked firmly in the bend of Lauren's arm.

"I can't believe the number of people who recognized you," Lauren said as she pushed open the door. "Talk about being a superstar, Cabello."

"Hey, I'll have you know that just as many people recognized you—Miss-I-just-got-four-phone-numbers. You did throw those away, right?"

Lauren laughed and nodded as she placed her hand over Camila's on her arm. "Not yet, no. There wasn't a way to do it discreetly while we were surrounded," she answered, enjoying Camila's little possessive streak. "I will later, Camz. Don't worry. They're so not my type."

"Good," Camila laughed as she pushed open the door. "Just so long as you remember that."

"What? That I like beautiful brunettes?"

A blinding flash of light interrupted Camila before she could form a response. Not even half a second after that, the yelling started.

"CAMILA, WHY ARE YOU IN LA?"

"LAUREN, IS THIS YOUR LATEST GIRLFRIEND?"

"HOW WAS YOUR DINNER?"

"CAMILA, AREN'T YOU VEGAN? WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN A DELI?"

"ARE YOU GUYS DATING?"

Lauren plastered on the fake smile she always wore for the paparazzi and glanced at Camila. "Don't answer them," she murmured under her breath. She tightened her hold on Camila's hand that was still tucked into her arm and began pushing her way through the small crowd. She had no idea if the paparazzi in Manhattan were as ruthless as they were in LA, and she did not want Camila inviting trouble. She was not a big enough celebrity that this sort of thing was commonplace for her, but she had run into her fair share of cameras during the Oscar race the year before, so she knew what kind of trouble they could be. She did a quick count of the flashing bulbs and was relieved to note that there was only a handful of paparazzi surrounding them. Five eager photographers were easy enough to get away from, but she cursed herself for parking a little less than a block and a half away from the restaurant. Not that it was her fault, that was the closest space she could find, but it still meant that they had a few minutes' walk to get to her car.

And that meant the paparazzi had a few minutes to yell at them and take pictures.

"CAMILA, WHY ARE YOU IN LA?"

"WHERE DID YOU GUYS MEET?"

"WAS THIS A DATE?"

"LAUREN, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF TYSON HOWE GETTING PICKED UP FOR SOLICITING A PROSTITUTE?"

"WAS THAT THE REASON HE WAS FIRED FROM YOUR NEW PROJECT?"

"WHO IS YOUR NEW LEADING MAN?"

Camila just smiled politely beside Lauren as the paparazzi took their pictures, the only sign of her discomfort being the way her hand tightened on Lauren's arm. She was used to paparazzi following her in New York, but she had honestly figured that she would not be an interest to them once she got away from the bright lights of Broadway. A couple of times she had to do a quick double-step to keep up to Lauren, who was still smiling and nodding at the reporters as they swarmed around them yelling and taking pictures, trying to get a rise out of the women, trying to get something that would net them a healthy paycheck from a tabloid.