IT'S A KIND OF A CHANGE. Not a big one, but not unnoticeably small either. It's kind of like the one Camila went through when she landed in New York. Very small, but very different.
That kind of transformation surfaced in Jeremy, Elle, and Roma, too. Their actions were still as familiar as could be but their aura? Shifted. When they were together everyday, nothing really changed. They grew into each other like they did themselves. But months apart? Very much the same but very much different.
So as Camila stares, with a fading grin on her face, bouquets in her arms, she can't for the life of her recognize who stands at the lobby.
Roma bounds into his arms. He swings her around, having the height advantage. Jeremy walks up next, giving him clap on the back before scowling at the response. Elle laughs, hand still on Camila's shoulder.
"Mila."
Is it her or has his voice gotten deeper, rougher? Still smooth, still enchanting. Maybe a little hint of an accent, since he spent so much time in Europe.
"Laurent," she says.
Then, she steps up to receive his hug, warm and inviting. Through the flowers and her own perfume, she can smell his cologne, bound into his hot skin to create his own scent. He's tanner now, hair still blonde as ever. But the thing she wants to see most is his eyes.
Soft, roaring thunder, and deep glacial blue. Have they changed too?
Her own searches his. Laurent smiles, and comes back for another hug, lifting Camila to her tiptoes.
"Missed you," he says, before letting go and giving Elle a ruffle on the head.
"Man, you basically disappeared," Jeremy says.
"Had some stuff to take care of," Laurent shrugs. "I'm starting college spring semester."
"Wow," Elle says, "thought you were on a gap life."
"Nah," he says. "Anyways, how have all of you been?"
He looks tired, as if he's been travelling all day. In fact, he probably has, his duffle bag by his feet. Did he take the first cab here? How did he even know? He even looks more European, with his coat and scarf—if that's a good description.
"Did you do lots of kicking?" Roma asks.
Laurent laughs, something Camila wasn't braced to hear. They all exit the theater, famished and ready to get a late dinner. It's almost Christmas eve now, and Camila knows for sure that Jeremy will be doing last-minute shopping on that day.
"You did well," Laurent tells her, as they walk in pairs on the sidewalk. "How's Juilliard?"
Camila blinks. It's been so long she doesn't even know how to talk to him now. Complete strangers, who happen to share a few memories together. Her heart doesn't know what to do, and falters.
"It's good," she says.
He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything about her. And the other way too, if imaginable.
"Andrew?"
Oh god. He really doesn't know anything.
"We broke up," Camila says.
Laurent rubs her shoulder in a consolatory manner. There's a little need to lean into him, to find comfort, to find him, but she overrides it.
"Hey!" Jeremy yells from the front. "What do you guys want to eat?"
"Anything's fine," Roma tells him, who gives her an exaggerated thumbs up.
The walk there is brief, the five of them unable to curb their empty stomachs. Dinner is spent catching up, and it fills Camila with another warmth again. They're all here, together, in New York. Maybe some things are in imbalance but it's nothing a little talking can't fix.