Imaginary Lover // Camren Fanfiction

Chapter 29

Camila placed the finishing touches to the dinner table, snipped a stem of fuchsia that was growing wild, and placed it in the small vase in the center. She lit a candle and watched as the flame darted around in the breeze, like a dog running around the garden yet chained to her kennel.

The area was silent, just as the name suggested, christened hundreds of years ago by the locals and untouched since then. The only sound was the water gently lapping, swishing back and forth, and tickling the sand.

Camila closed her eyes and swayed to the music. A small fishing boat tied to the pier bobbed up and down on the sea, occasionally bumping the side of the pier and adding a soft drumbeat.

The sky was blue and beginning to darken with a few stray wisps of teenage clouds lagging behind the older clouds of hours ago. The stars twinkled brightly and Camila winked back at them; they too knew what was
coming. Camila had asked the head chef at the work canteen to help her out tonight; he was the same chef responsible for catering the tea parties in the back gardens of best friends, but this time he went all out.

She had created the most luscious spread Camila could have imagined. Starter was foie gras and toast cut into neat little squares, followed by wild salmon and asparagus cooked in garlic, followed by a white chocolate mousse with dribbles of raspberry sauce for dessert. The aromas were lifted by the warm gulf wind and carried past her nose, tickling her tastebuds.

She played around with the cutlery nervously, fixing all that didn't need to be fixed. She tightened her new blue silk tie, loosened it again, opened the button of her navy blue suit jacket, and decided to close it again. She had
been so busy all day arranging the setup that she had barely taken time to think about the feelings that were stirring inside her. Glancing at her watch and at the darkening sky, whe hoped Lauren would come.

Lauren drove down the narrow winding road slowly, barely able to see past the end of her nose in the thick blackness of the countryside. Wild flowers and growth reached out to brush the side of her car as she passed.

Her full headlights startled moths, mosquitoes, and bats as she drove in the direction of the sea. Suddenly, the blackness lifted as she reached a clearing and the whole world was spread out before her.

Ahead of her were thousands of miles of black sea, glistening under the moonlight. Inside the cove was a small fishing boat tied up beside the steps; the sand was a velvety brown, the edges being licked and teased by the approaching tide. But it wasn't the sea that took her breath away; it was the sight of Camila standing in the sand dressed in a smart new suit beside a small,
beautifully set table for two, candle flickering in the center, casting shadows across her smiling face.

The sight was enough to bring a tear from a stone. It was an image her mother had stamped in her mind, an image she had wherpered excitedly into her ear about moonlit dinners on the beach, so much so that her mother's dreams had become her own.

And there Camila was, standing in the picture Lauren and her mother had painted so vividly and that had remained etched in Lauren's mind. She understood the phrase, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and so she unashamedly did both. Camila stood proudly, brown eyes glistening in the moonlight. She ignored her tears, or rather, accepted them.

"My dear"—she bowed theatrically—"your moonlit dinner awaits you."

Wiping her eyes and smiling a smile so big Lauren felt she could light she entire world, she took her extended hand and stepped out of the car. Camila inhaled sharply. "Wow, Lauren, you look stunning."

Lauren smiled proudly. "Wearing red is my favorite thing to do now," she said, imitating her, taking her arm and allowing her to lead her to the dinner table. After much hemming and hawing Lauren had purchased a red dress that accentuated her slender figure, giving her curves she never even knew she had. She had put it on and taken it off at least five times before she left the house, feeling too exposed in such a bright color. To prevent herself from feeling like a traffic light she had brought a black pashmina to drape over her shoulders.