(CAMREN) Pride & Stubbornness

3.

At Lauren's feet was a single, shiny black high heel.

With a smile, she picked it up and went back inside.

***

It had been a horrible evening.

First she had to face off against Jabba the Moore, and then she accused Lauren Jauregui of something she probably wasn't guilty of, and to top it all off she'd lost her goddamn shoe!

She'd seen the hurt in Lauren's eyes at her accusation and it made Camila feel horrible.

She had to apologize; there was no getting around it, but she wasn't the type to do so easily. She tried sleeping, but tossed and turned for over an hour. Camila tried again, hearing the rain start, listening to each drop in the hope that the rhythm would put her to sleep before she finally let out an exasperated scream and got out of bed.

She showered quickly, scrubbing her hair with a ferocity most people used to clean pans, and pulled on a bra, tank top, and jeans.

She slipped on a pair of running shoes, glossed her lips, and headed into the pouring rain toward her Miata. She knew exactly where she was going.

She knew it was rude to drop in on him at two in the morning, but she couldn't let the guilt keep her awake any longer. As she drove in to one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city, Camila took a deep breath.

She'd be facing a man none too pleased at being pulled out of bed, but she'd made her decision and was sticking to it.

The neighborhood was dark, as though the rain had caused a power failure. She had difficulty navigating but Camila managed to make it into Lauren's driveway unscathed.

She paused as she turned off her car and ran her fingers through her damp hair. With a deep breath, she got out of the car.

Around her, rain fell in torrents. By the time she reached the doorstep of Lauren's House, every attempt she'd made at her appearance had been washed away.

To her surprise the door opened almost immediately, and she couldn't help gasping at what she saw.

There Lauren stood, in jeans, a robe, and white button up hanging open, revealing his gorgeous chest.

Lauren's hair was tousled; she held a brass candlestick in her free hand, the flame illuminating her gorgeous features.

Once again he looked like the textbook romantic hero, and Camila couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope you didn't come all this way to laugh at me," Lauren said dryly.

Camila took a calming breath, and shook her head. "I came to apologize. May I come in?"

Lauren didn't answer, she simply stepped back, allowing Camila entry.

Camila stepped into the lavish foyer and winced as her rain soaked shoes squished beneath her. With a shy smile, she toed out of them.

"What's with the candlestick?" she asked.

"Power failure," Lauren replied.

"You don't have a generator?"

"We've been having some trouble with it lately so I'm dealing with it the old fashioned way. You're soaking."

"Yeah."

"I've got a fire going in the living room. Why don't we go there so you can warm up?" SHe suggested, leading Camila to a living room with plush leather couches and thick Persian rugs.

Facing the sofa was a massive fire place. The house, she realized with an amused sense of irony, looked like a castle, inside and out. She was warming herself in front of the fire when Lauren nudged her back. SHe was holding two snifters of brandy.