Beautiful When You Don't Try (Camren)

Chapter 22

"When did you want to go?" Camila asked tapping the dark haired woman laying on her bedroom floor with her foot. "We were going to go this morning, but then you wanted to go for a walk and think. Then you said after we ate lunch...that was an hour ago. So, when do you want to go?"

Never. "I don't know."

"You aren't getting cold feet are you? I mean, I am now well aware that your feet are always cold, despite how long they have been wrapped snuggly under the blankets, but are you having second thoughts about this?"

"Are my feet really that cold? Adrianne tried to make me wear socks to bed, but then I just felt hot all night."

Camila scrunched her face at imagining the feeling of scratchy socks running up her legs all night. "I would much rather deal with the cold feet. They aren't that bad after you've had them pressed against my legs for an hour. But you're avoiding the topic."

Lauren reached over and grabbed Camila's leg to pull her down on the ground. The diva took the hint and straddled the photographer's waist, leaning back against her raised knees for support. "I want to do this. I want to do this today. I'm still just nervous about it."

"Baby, you're going to be nervous about it until you get it over with. Stick to your conclusion from last night. We are going to go. Do the whole filling them in on the last few years of your life with the most basic of answers, tell them about us, listen to your father scream, and let your mother make her decision on whether she wants to know anything more about you. Then we leave. Simple." Lauren arched an eyebrow. Simple wasn't the word she would have used. "Okay, look...No matter what happens today, I'm still going back to New York with you. I'm still going to hold your hand as we walk through the city. I'm still going to let you wake me up with amazing sex that renders me useless for the rest of the day."

Lauren smiled but rolled her eyes in a blush. Camila loved that she was so easily embarrassed with a simple compliment. She grabbed Lauren's hands and locked their fingers together, drawing the green eyes back to hers.

"It doesn't matter what they say. Nothing is going to change that. Sure, they may say some things that sting but it wont last. You're guilt and regrets will, however. Stop worrying about me."

"That's my job." Lauren argued in a soft voice, full of duty but laced with fear.

"Not for today, it isn't. Today, your only concern is saying what you need to say to clear your mind. It's my job to make sure you do that. So...if you don't want me to feel like I'm failing and therefore I become disappointed with myself, angry at my mediocre results, then you will do whatever it takes to help me succeed." Lauren dropped her brow and smiled at Camila's slyness. "That is called reverse psychology. It works well, especially since you can't argue with my logic. So the best thing you can do to make me happy, is to get off your ass and take me to meet your parents."

"You're pushing."

"That's my job." Camila mocked honestly. "Now, lets go, Jauregui." The diva stood up and pulled on the hands still held in hers and Lauren surrendered, allowing herself to be shoved into taking that first step of actually meeting with her parents and no longer just talking about it. "Are you wearing that? Because I think you should wear those jeans I saw in your bag. If things do turn ugly, it will give me solace to be able to look at your ass while being screamed at. Oh, and that red shirt that molds and pushes your cleavage into view, that would definitely help me feel more comfortable as well."

"You know what's going to be great? Getting back to New York where all we have to worry about is us. Not Normani, not impressing your parents, not being arrested, not Michelle, or Ariana, or my parents. Just us."