My Favorite Camren One-Shots (Part 2)

I'll Send You the Information

Lauren always left, that much wasn't a secret. I guess I just never really thought she’d leave me after all this time. It never occurred to me that she’d actually leave one day. I mean, she’d always come back. Maybe I was her home in a certain way, a place she’d run to after any wild adventure.

I remember this one night in particular, one of the first nights she stayed here,  she sporadically left and I thought she’d be gone for good. I heard her trying to quietly leave, the squeaking of my door making it difficult. Emerald eyes looked at me and I wasn’t worried.

“Where are you going?” I didn’t expect her to respond, I never did but I’d ask every time.

“I’ll send you the information.” If I had to describe her with one sentence, it’d be that. She said it for almost everything and I never understood why.

“I mean, I’m not going anywhere,” but you might. “why can’t you just tell me about it when you get back?” And when I said that, she looked at me. I looked back at her, trying to convey what that look meant. Her eyes were gentle almost as if she was
silently contemplating what I said. If she was, she must’ve brushed it off quickly because soon after she went right back into her routine of discontinuation and perplexity.

She left after that, nothing in hand but her journal. Nothing on her back but the weight of her mysteries. And I wasn’t hurt, no that’s not it. I was confused as to why she always felt the need to leave. Was I, and this little home she ran to not good enough for her?

I remember the night she knocked on my door. I was bewildered to say the least, but it was raining and she was soaked so I let her in. I hadn’t seen her since high school, she was the only one out of our group that didn’t go to college. Probably couldn’t handle the commitment of having to pay all of that money to only leave after a short space of time - because you know, staying was not her thing.

The first couple of weeks we lived together, I didn’t pay much attention to her. She didn’t eat much and she was never around so I was basically still living alone. Months started passing and a year slowly crept up on us and she was still here. We’d never engage in proper conversations, whenever I tried to start one she’d always make her responses shorter And her eyes never quite met mine. She was never a fan of eye contact, probably scared to really connect with someone. Scared that someone could actually figure her out - slowly removing the weight of her mysteries and carrying it on their shoulders instead.

After the first year of living together  passed, or as I called it, theyearofshortsentencesandunansweredquestions. I told myself that my time with her was up. There was no way she’d actually stay longer. The words stay and Lauren could not be associated with each other. I had to remind myself of that even more when year two came around (theyearofstolenglancesandfeelings.)

Whenever I’d cook, Lauren would always be in the kitchen. She’d never speak, never help - she’d just look at me. But when Lauren looked at you, she really looked. I was sure she knew me better than I knew myself just by looking. Whatever it was that we had, it was never verbal, but it was always very physical, extremely observant.

The only time we’d make contact was when I’d burn myself or hurt myself with a knife while cooking, which undoubtedly happened quite a lot. Sometimes I thought the only reason she made sure to be in the kitchen when I cooked was to be certain that I was safe. She’d get up, very calmly and get the first aid kit and fixed whatever was wrong.

Close proximity seemed to be a problem for her also. Seeing as she’d always leave for an hour or so after he assistance was given. At first, I seriously thought I had bad breath or something. It’s not everyday someone runs off right after being very close to you.            

Those concerns began fading when year three (theyearofunexpectedintimacyandconversations) started. With year three, I was in shock to say the least. Why was she still here? Not that I’m complaining, I just genuinely did not understand. Much like the night when she came home after being gone for about a week. Her seven days disappearance was not what confused me. It was the knocking on my bedroom door and the cuts on the face and the head immediately collapsing onto the crook of my neck.

I led her to my bed and sat down with her, not asking anything just listening to her cry. I don’t think anything shocked me more than that night. The rest of the night consisted of her asking me a bunch of questions as if we weren’t ever friends in school. She asked me questions as if each answer was something she’d cherish and store forever.

But when the questions stopped and she kept looking at me as if I was still answering, I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought that if I made eye contact with her, she’d avert her eyes like she normally does but that was not the case tonight. Instead, here eyes locked with mine for a bit and drifted to my lips soon after. Then we were kissing and in the middle of all of that confusion, I’ve never been less confused.

Plump lips met a tan neck, gentle kisses turned into rough sucking. Cold hands met warm hips and I was in a daze up until those same cold hands reached for the top of my white v-neck and ripped it. After that, it was all clear to me exactly what was going on. For her though, she seemed to grow level headed after her lips circled around and her tongue swiped both of my nipples. I had no intentions of stopping her but she ceased on her own after she kissed her way down between my legs and I’m not sure if the smell of my arousal was what made her realize what was going on but within a second her head was raising up from between my thighs, eyes full of regret and feet headed to the door.

“So, that’s it,you’re gonna just leave?“  You’d think her leaving had limits and she wouldn’t dare leave a girl in bed, but no. "Let me guess, you’re gonna send me the information about this too?” She paused when I said that and I could’ve sworn I heard her beginning to cry again. Nonetheless, she walked out and I could hear pacing in the room next to me and I had no doubt that this was it. She was not coming back.

And in a way, I regretted comforting her. Maybe if I didn’t hold her, she would’ve held onto this longer and stayed. I got up and walked outside, I don’t know if I thought her seeing me, seeing how hurt I was. Seeing me crying and silently begging her to stay. I don’t know if I thought it would persuade her in some way. She was crying too but she did not stop packing, replacing the weight of her mysteries with an actual bag.

Emerald eyes looked at me and I was more than worried. She left and I let her. I didn’t try to stop her because I knew it wouldn’t do anything. But once the door closed behind her, my mouth opened and I did not try to stop the screams and cries of pain from escaping my lips. I knew that she heard at least some of it, and the fact that that didn’t even make her come back says a lot.

I didn’t know Lauren’s life but I knew Lauren. So when I saw her journal was left behind, I knew this was some sick way of her, ‘sending the information.’ Lauren’s favorite novel was Paper Towns and she’d read it repeatedly daily. Did she know that life was not a book? Did she know that I’d bookmark the pages and read it over everyday if it meant she’d stay? That was not the case at all though. If we were books, she’d be a hardcover and I’d be paperback. She moved on and was already writing a sequel without me in it.

The journal was filled with different stories, each one capable of being a separate book. I flipped through them and read the last entry. She knew she was leaving today.

‘Just know that out of all the things I’ve ever seen in life and all the things I’ll ever see. You will always be my greatest adventure and I’d explore you over and over again if I could, until there is no more information left to send.’

She’s been gone for about a year now. Impossible to track down because of how fast she’d move from one place to another. Every now and again I’d get a letter from her telling me about her different adventures. I just wished the adventure involving me never ended.