Riptide (a camren fic)

Chapter 6: Freeze Pops or Otter Pops?

"Well, we're not," Camila answers shortly, turning over on her stomach.

"We've got things to do though," Dinah persists. "Actually, we've got people to do, if you know what I mean," she adds suggestively.

Camila reaches for the pillow again, draping it over her head.

"You have to see Lauren today," Dinah says, her voice closer than before. "Come on!"

"She doesn't want to see me," Camila grumbles.

"Because you called her a slut?"

Camila sits upright and throws the pillow at Dinah. She watches as it goes right through her friend and topples over the edge of the bed. They both stare at it, silently for a moment, before Camila rounds on Dinah.

"I didn't call her a slut," she snaps.

"That's not what her face said."

"I already feel bad about it. You don't need to make it any worse," Camila sighs. "Besides, I'm always making the moves."

"The bad moves," Dinah chimes in unhelpfully.

"It's time she shows some interest."

"I like how you jump to this conclusion." Dinah moves to sit closer to her. "That she's just so interested in you."

"She wants to be my friend," Camila responds irritably.

"See, this is where you lose me. You want to hate her? But you want to be friends with her? Or you want her to like you enough to sleep with you or what?"

Camila flushes, rising from the bed completely to create as much distance between her and Dinah's playfully accusing stare.

"Oh, no you're doing that constipated look you get when you think too hard," Dinah says with a wince. She pats the empty side of the bed. "Come back. We'll watch some old videos again."

So they spend an hour going through Camila's saved videos. The same ones, the ones that they've both gone through more times than they could count. She knows Dinah's reasons for it. Tactical. Analyzing every detail and move projected on the computer screen in a way only athletes do. Camila, however, isn't sure why she still does it. Why she plays, rewinds, fast forwards and repeats almost every day.

It's the only routine, since the conception of this dumb list, which she hasn't broken or even thought of breaking.

Recording-Dinah, bronze skin reflecting off the bright sunlight and bright blue ocean, rips through the shiny surface. She rides the small barrel, a tiny speck from Camila's camera angle on the beach. Camila can hear herself through the recording, over the sound of crashing waves, chirping seagulls, and the murmur of people on the beach that day. She can hear herself cheer and giggle, and chant Dinah's name.

"The waves were weak that day," Dinah mutters from over her shoulder. "The waves are always weak here," she sighs dramatically. "Unless there's like a storm or something. I would've liked to go with Z to Cali.

"Like she would take you," Camila murmurs, moving over to play a different video.

"Hey we would have gone. We always planned to go to the west coast," Dinah says. There's something in her voice that doesn't settle well with Camila. "The dream was Waimea. Eventually save enough money to go to Hawaii."

Camila feels a lump form in her throat. She struggles to swallow it down as she tries to focus upon the recording. This is the first time she's heard Dinah speak like this. With a twinge of longing in her voice. It's the first time Camila thinks Dinah has ever spoken on this matter in a serious tone. It's the first time she catches a hint of bitterness in her friend's expression. It's the first time she sees the ache that twists in her chest reflected in Dinah's dark eyes.