this chapter is a monster and it's so long but it's also kind of the chapter where everything goes down.... so..... hope you enjoy.... ;)
as usual comment and vote if you feel so inclined xoxoxo
(tw: homophobic slurs)
-
Camila's having a weird day.
"Do you ever get, like, bad nostalgia?" she wonders out loud, swiveling in her stool so she can look at Lauren. The green-eyed girl is struggling to put on her fake eyelashes, even though she does it literally every night.
"You mean PTSD?" Lauren jokes. Camila makes an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat, and Lauren seems to think better of her comment. One hand still holding onto her eye, she puts the other on Camila's thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze. "Sorry," she says. "That wasn't funny. I get what you mean, though."
Camila places her hand on top of Lauren's, interlacing their fingers, smiling when Lauren looks up at her, dropping her fingers from her eye. "I was listening to one of my old playlists," Camila tells her, "because I was trying to pick a new song to perform, and this old country song came on- I don't know, it just reminded me of my childhood. But not in a good way."
It's funny, because everything about her childhood was good. She used to be so close to her dad. She was the quintessential daddy's girl - she was like his pride and joy, because she was so smart, so polite, everything a good daughter needed to be in his eyes. She used to look up to him so much, before she really started listening to him and heard him call gay people faggots and abominations who deserved to burn in hell for going against God's will. It reminds Camila of how she used to go to church every Sunday and feel sticky and sick and completely out of place once she discovered who she really was.
Her dad would've killed her if he knew. He was so mad just by her leaving Kansas and going to UCLA without him knowing. She still has his angry voicemails on her phone, still listens to them sometimes, tortures herself with his furious voice and feels like she's the worst person in the world. But it was like one day she had just looked over the dinner table at her dad and realized he was nowhere close to the man she thought he was.
He used to be her hero, but there was just so much hate there. There finally came a time where she realized she could never look at him the same way ever again.
Lauren is staring at her curiously.
"Major daddy issues," Camila offers by way of explanation.
Something flashes in Lauren's expression, and she gives her a gentle, sympathetic smile. "I get it," she says. "Dads suck."
She says it like she knows from experience, and the thought makes Camila unbelievably sad. Impulsively, she hops off her stool and wraps Lauren in a tight hug. Lauren lets out a small huff of surprise, but it relaxes into a giggle, and she hugs Camila back.
"You're an angel," she says, voice muffled by Camila's shoulder. "You know that? Best person ever."
A laugh bubbles up from Camila's throat. "You're ridiculous," she says, feeling a sudden rush of fondness for the girl in front of her. "I'm just giving you a hug."
It's a lot more, though. Camila thinks they kind of both know that.
-
Lauren gets sick right before Christmas.
-
"Do we do a Christmas show?" Camila asks. Before rehearsal started, Dinah walked in wearing the most egregious ugly Christmas sweater and insisted on making pretend snow angels on the stage. Lauren sat beside her and stared off into space with that slightly glazed look that originally made Camila think she was probably hungover. But that was what she thought two days ago when Lauren started acting all sluggish - this is definitely something else.
"We've tried," Lucy informs her. "It never works out because the only sexy Christmas song is Santa Baby, and there's really only so many ways to perform that, so."
"But sexy Santa outfits." They were great in Glee.
Lauren's head pops up. "Like Santana's in Glee," she says. Fucking mind reader. Her voice sounds hoarser than usual, so much it seems like it would be painful. She can't even conjure up enough energy to be over-the-top about a Glee reference, which is especially worrying to Camila.
"Christmas isn't a very sexy holiday, I guess," Camila relents.
"But what is, then?" wonders Lauren. "Like, Valentine's Day?"
"Sure."
"Halloween," Normani suggests. "Everyone can dress in slutty costumes."
The other girls throw in holidays (and subsequently decide that a St. Patrick's Day show would be nothing less than nightmare-inducing) and Camila takes the opportunity to sidle up to Lucy. "Hey," she says. "Any updates?"
Lucy looks like she's biting back a smile. "I'm sorry, Camila," she says. "It's not my fault Ally and I already wrote the set lists for the entire month of December before you and Lauren came up with that fabulous duet."
Camila huffs. "You suck," she tells her with no small amount of childishness.
She knows Lucy is super anal about her House of Hernandez set lists - she's a little bit of a control freak, which Camila both respects and can relate to - but she's especially been dragging her feet about Lucky because she knows that it annoys Camila. Camila's been bugging her about this for weeks. It probably doesn't help that said duet is with Lauren, but either way, Lucy is being a dick about this on purpose. Since it's a new song, and a two-person song at that, it has to be reasonably worked into the set list, tested out to see if audiences like it - or whatever Lucy is saying to try and make this process as long as she can.
Lucy's not an asshole. She's just being an asshole about this one particular thing for some reason. Camila and Lauren aren't asking to make this a regular number - they just want to perform it once, for fun. But Lucy has a monopoly on the set list until January, so that's that.
"I do suck," Lucy agrees, but her face softens. "Seriously, Camila, I would if I could."
"You could do more," Camila mumbles, and Lucy's laugh is raspy as Camila turns away from her.
-
Rehearsals are light. They always are around the holidays, or at least that's what Dinah tells her. Lucy stops it halfway through so they can all walk to the hipster café down the street. They stay a good hour there, even though they can't eat much before they get on stage, and Lauren spends the whole time nursing a cup of chamomile tea and looking positively miserable.
Camila tries to keep her distance while still showing relative worry. She pulls Lauren to the side over by the bathrooms, while the other girls are grazing on salads and green smoothies like regular LA hot chicks. "Um." It seems like her voice barely permeates Lauren's ears with how little the girl in front of her reacts. "You okay?"
Today is probably the worst day yet. Lauren looks tired and spent. She keeps pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers like she's trying to massage the headache right out of her sinuses. She's been coming down with a cold for the past few days and simultaneously vehemently denying that she's coming down with a cold. The dark circles under her eyes are purplish slashes that make her whole face look a little sunken, and Camila is way past concerned.
"You need to leave," she says before Lauren can say she's fine - again. "You need to go home. You're sick."
"Yeah," Lauren says wearily, her voice thick with congestion. She's been sniffling and wiping at her eyes the whole time. "Yeah. Probably. But you wouldn't have anyone to drive you home."
She's so cute and such an idiot that Camila would hug her if she wasn't afraid of getting infected. "Normani and Dinah can take me back to the dorms."
"The show can't go on without me," Lauren mutters. She's back to pinching her nose. "My head hurts." She had popped two ibuprofen before rehearsal started but Camila doesn't think it helped her much.
"Give me your keys."
"What?"
"Your keys, Lo."
It takes Lauren a moment to find her keys in her purse, swimming in about a pound of cough drops and a bottle of DayQuil. Plus fruit. So much fruit. Camila has no idea why Lauren would bring her purse full of fruit to a café but Lauren's so out of it Camila doesn't think she'd have an answer for her even if she asked. God. How did she even drive here this morning?
"Lucy!" She raises her voice. "Lauren is sick. I'm taking her home."
"Thank god." Lucy looks relieved. "You taking her car?"
"Yeah."
Lucy straightens up and lifts her chin in that authoritative way of hers she always does before she's about to make demands. "Girls," she announces. "Who wants to pick Camila up from Lauren's apartment after she drops her off?" She's kind of maternal, in a weird way. Ally might technically be the owner but Lucy is so mother hen.
Dinah raises her hand. "I'll do it."
"Great." Lucy claps once. "Camila, be back before opening, okay?"
"Okay." Camila nudges Lauren, who is looking sicker by the second. "C'mon, honey, I'm taking you home."
-
A bunch of wrappers for the mini peanut butter cups Lauren buys religiously from Whole Foods are crumpled on her nightstand, next to a half-finished bottle of Gatorade and cough medicine. A wastebasket filled with tissues is sitting up next to it. Lauren is a lump under her duvet. When she hears Camila come in, she peeks her head just slightly out of the blanket, and she's so damn cute that Camila can't help but letting out a small, soft cooing noise. "Oh my god."
"No." Lauren already sounds defeated. "I'm gonna get you so sick. Don't come near me."
"Babe, you literally just have a head cold." Camila perches herself on the edge of Lauren's bed. "You'll be over it in a week or so."
"You don't know that. You're not a doctor." Lauren wriggles herself out of the blanket a little more, and Camila can see her thick eyebrows furrow together. "Are you wearing gloves?"
"Safety precaution."
"Fucking bitch. You're so smart."
Lauren is clearly half-asleep, because her eyes are half-lidded and she's basically slurring her words. Camila wonders if she'll even remember this in a couple hours.
After she had dropped Lauren off at her place and had Dinah swing by and pick her up, she hadn't been able to get Lauren off her mind the whole day. Not like that was anything new. Still, she couldn't stop thinking about how Lauren was sick and alone and Camila had filled in for her closing slot, which was a trip in itself. Earlier when the girls were crammed in the backstage bathroom Camila had leaned against the cold porcelain of the sink and groaned, "I wish Lauren were here," far from the first time that night. It was met with mixed reviews.
"Girl, shut the fuck up," Normani had said. "I mean, I wish she were here too, but my god, you're obsessive."
"You have a crush on her!" Dinah bubbled, pinching Camila's shoulder. "I think it's sweet."
"I think it's disgusting," Ariana had chimed in.
"I think it's a lot to expect from a girl who's allergic to commitment." Normani always means well. She's almost always right, too. Camila made a face at her and Normani pulled her into a hug, refusing to let go even when Camila wiggled in her arms. It made her laugh despite herself.
"You're just jealous because Lauren likes Camila more than you, bitch," Dinah had said to Normani.
"Hey." Normani smacked a loud kiss onto Camila's cheek, and Camila had finally relaxed against her. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
All the windows are drawn in Lauren's apartment. The cup of tea Camila had made her before leaving is empty. "Want me to make you more tea?" Camila asks.
"Yes, please." Lauren's voice is tiny and petulant. She peeks her face out of the blanket. "What is that?" She's noticed the large case Camila has placed on the floor. "You brought your guitar." Her mouth is wide open. "Are you going to sing for me?"
When Camila nods, Lauren makes a noise that would probably sound like her usual excited squeal if she weren't so hopped up on cough medicine. "Oh my god, I love you. I'm literally in love with you. You are an angel." It all comes out in a sleepy, almost nonsensical half-whisper, and Camila thinks she could die with how strong her feelings for Lauren are.
"Let me make the tea for you first," Camila says, and she does.
When she comes back, Lauren is sitting up against her pillows, her duvet pooled around her waist. She's scrubbed her makeup off from earlier and her hair is a rat's nest. "I want coffee," she says when Camila hands her the cup. "I am so fatigued." Fatigued, like a WebMd article.
"Sugar is an inflammatory," Camila replies patiently. "It'll just make you feel worse. Do you want me to play my guitar now?"
That's apparently all Lauren wants her to do, and Camila peels off her gloves and plays a One Direction song just to make her laugh. Then she starts taking requests. She knows some Britney, even though acoustic Britney is very strange. Some Paramore because Lauren loves Paramore. Somebody Else by the 1975 as a closer even though it's depressing because it's soft and quiet and Lauren is starting to drift off into sleep. Camila came here right after work, so it's well into the night at this point. Lauren's neighbors probably hate them.
No, I don't want your body
But I'm picturing your body with somebody else
"You sang me to sleep," Lauren says with her eyes closed. She's finished her tea and a more-than-appropriate amount of cough medicine. There's a tired, sated smile on her face. "Stay here for the night. It's late."
Camila begins packing up her guitar. "Are you sure?" she asks. "You want me around when you're sick?"
"Use my shower. Sleep on the couch. It's fine, I promise." Lauren burrows further into her blankets, turns on her side. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Trying to be as quiet as possible, Camila shuts the latches on her guitar case and stands up.
"You're the best person I know," Lauren mumbles. "The best, prettiest person I've ever met. I don't know why I never tell you that."
The laugh Camila lets out almost hurts her chest. "You're high on cough medicine," she says, heading towards the door. "You don't know what you're saying." She tries and fails to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, all too familiar. God damn it. This girl.
"I know more than you think I know." It comes out as a half-strangled, congested mess of phlegm. It still manages to make Camila freeze in place. "What?"
"Everyone thinks I'm so stupid," rambles Lauren. "Lucy. You. Everyone just thinks I'm some sexy beautiful idiot. I pretend like it doesn't bother me but it does."
Camila can't even begin to imagine what she means by that. "I don't think you're stupid at all." She pauses. "Lauren?"
No response. Camila looks back at her. Lauren looks much younger when she's asleep. Or maybe she just finally looks her age. Less intense. More peaceful. Camila sighs.
"Goodnight, Lo," she says, before leaving Lauren's bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.
-
Lauren gets better by the end of the week. She still is a little sniffly from time to time, but Camila was right, it was just a head cold. She's been keeping Lauren on bed rest because House of Hernandez is a germ-infected cesspool (probably) and she doesn't want Lauren to get re-sick. Lauren complains about it a lot, because she wants to go back to work, but she's mostly complaining just to be a brat. Camila knows her too well.
Lauren doesn't remember a lot of what she said that first night Camila sang her to sleep, which is both hilarious and kind of frustrating, because even while she's bedridden and half-asleep she can still find it in herself to be a charming little asshole and make Camila fall that much harder for her. That part she never bothers explaining or following up on - you're the best, prettiest person I've ever met. She does follow up on the second part, though.
They're in her apartment, because they're always in her apartment. Lauren is nursing a tea again, honey lemon. She's wearing Camila's UCLA sweater, the sleeves pulled down over her hands, dwarfing her and making her look even more adorable than normal. It's taking all Camila has to not just wrap her up in her arms right now. Camila has folded and color-coded half of Lauren's closet just because she can. She's taking a break to mill around Lauren's room.
"You have so many books," Camila marvels, running a finger along the spines of them. There are soapy wine mom thrillers - Gone Girl, Girl On A Train, Big Little Lies - which somehow doesn't surprise her at all. The ones that do surprise her are the ones like Malcom Gladwell's Outliers, or autobiographies by business tycoons and self-help books by psychologists. It just seems so un-Lauren that it nearly pulls a laugh from her throat. "I thought you didn't know how to read."
Lauren is staring at the books like she's never seen them before. "I don't," she says, grinning at the jab, but her voice sounds a little unfocused. "Huh. I used to love to read - used to do it all the time when I was younger - but I haven't in a while. I think my attention span is fucked."
"I feel that." Camila used to love to read too. She thinks college has ruined it for her. So much assigned reading it's taken all the joy out of it. Now every time she tries to pick up a book, even for fun, it feels like a chore.
"I guess I haven't found anything interesting enough." Lauren puts her mug on her nightstand and flops backwards on her bed. She's silent for a second, in that characteristic way of hers where Camila can tell something's on her mind.
"Stop thinking so loud," she says.
Lauren cracks up with soft laughter, rolling forward on her stomach. "Can I tell you something weird?" Her eyes are large and imploring.
"Of course." Camila sits down next to her. Since Lauren has barely any symptoms anymore she's forgone any concerns about getting infected from her.
Lauren immediately props her head up on Camila's thigh, and Camila starts stroking her fingers through her hair, watching Lauren's contemplative face. "Are you sure?" Lauren asks. "It's about me and Lucy."
Camila doesn't school her expression fast enough and Lauren makes a noise in the back of her throat, pointing at her. "See. That. I knew you didn't want to hear it."
"No, tell me," Camila insists, sifting through Lauren's long, silky hair. "I'll be a good listener, promise."
Lauren gives her an overly skeptical look, but continues nonetheless. "Lucy was actually the one who bought me all those books," she says. "You know how she likes to buy me stuff." She jangles the charm bracelet on her wrist.
Camila nods. This has become apparent.
"It was kind of weird, though," Lauren says in that quiet voice she uses when she's about to talk about something serious. "I mean... it made me feel weird. She really wanted me to read them. You know she graduated from college with, like, the highest high honors or whatever?"
Camila chuckles. Lauren's lack of care about higher education is somehow adorable. "Yeah?"
"I feel like she wants me to be this really intellectual person." Lauren props herself up so she's facing Camila, and Camila lets her hair slip through her fingers. "Like, this person who reads books and can sit through educational documentaries, so I can be, um..." She folds her arms around herself, almost self-consciously. "Smart, I guess. She wants me to be smart."
"You are smart."
Lauren shrugs. "Not in the way she wants."
It's kind of strange to see Lauren so vulnerable like this, eyes trained on the bedspread, lips twisted to the side, her eyebrows knotted together in a frown. Camila feels a spike of sympathy in her chest, and she suddenly wraps Lauren close to her in a tight hug, feeling the taller girl immediately relax into her. "Hey," she says softly. "You are so smart. Who cares that you didn't go to college? You're still smart. Who cares about what Lucy wants? Fuck her!"
Lauren lets out a shaky, slightly amused breath into Camila's shoulder, and then she squeals when Lauren plants a kiss on her temple. "I love you," she says very honestly, pulling back so she can cup Camila's face between her warm hands. "You're seriously the best. How do you always know all the right things to say?"
"I think you might just have incredibly low expectations," Camila deadpans, and Lauren howls out a laugh.
"Fuck you," she says gleefully. "My expectations are so high, bitch. You're just managing to meet them all."
She meets them, and Lucy doesn't, and it's a selfish, tiny little victory. Lauren kisses her face before letting her hands drop. "You're my favorite person in the world," she says.
Camila smiles and sighs and wonders why it's so easy for Lauren to say that stuff and yet Camila is too much of a coward to say anything at all.
-
Christmas is a non-issue. Ally and Lucy are going back to Washington, where they are apparently from, so no work for a few days, including Christmas. So Lauren invites all the girls over for a party on Christmas Eve. Almost everyone shows up and Lauren's apartment is just big enough to accommodate them. It does prove the point that most House of Hernandez girls have issues with their parents, though. Everyone Camila knows from school is going home for the holidays to visit their families.
But Lauren's apartment is full, and so Camila and Lauren take it upon themselves to bake a bunch of sweets for the girls. Mostly for themselves, actually, because they love baking so much. Normani gives them hell when she finds out this is a regular occurrence.
"You bake together?" she says incredulously when she walks into the kitchen to find Camila and Lauren waiting in front of the oven for their brownies. Key lime pies are chilling in the fridge. Chocolate chip cookies are cooling on a rack on the counter. "God, you two make me sick. Do you throw flour and other baking supplies at each other like you're in a rom-com?"
"No!" Camila and Lauren say at the same time. "You think I'd let this bitch fuck up my kitchen?" Lauren asks, like she's offended.
Camila nods emphatically. "And you think I'd let her get anything nasty in my hair?"
Normani stares at them for a second, before mumbling "you guys are so fucking weird" and walking back out to the living room. She's a little drunk. They all are, actually.
Once the brownies are out of the oven and cooling too, Lauren drags Camila into her bedroom, away from the chaos. "I have a gift for you," she says as Camila plops down on her bed. "You might kill me, because I didn't spend any money on it."
"It's Christmas Eve!" Camila protests. "No gifts until Christmas day!" Her gift for Lauren - which she spend so long making, by the way - is sitting under Lauren's dinky little Christmas tree that's set up right next to her TV. Most of the other girls already exchanged their gifts, but since Camila already decided she's staying over here tonight, she made Lauren promise she wouldn't open it until it hit midnight. Lame? Cheesy? Maybe. She's kind of tipsy.
Lauren ignores her. She's fishing under her bed for something. "Or you might love me," she continues, "because it's pure sentimental value." She pulls out this large bag, and then presses a small, square thing into Camila's hand. She keeps the bag by her side.
Camila glances up at her. Lauren is practically vibrating with how excited she is. "What is it?"
"Oh my god, just look at it," Lauren begs, and Camila does.
It hits her square in the chest. "Oh," she says, and her voice sounds thick and sticky and lovestruck even to her own ears. "Oh, Lauren, who took this?" It's a Polaroid picture. Lauren's apartment, and Camila is sitting on the counter with Lauren slotted between her legs. The day after they all went to Melrose for the first time. It was definitely Dinah who took it, and Camila can't imagine how she managed to snap this without either of them noticing.
Or maybe she can. They just look so utterly... together. Their own little bubble. Lauren has her fingers gently placed on Camila's jawline, holding her face still, her features a model of perfect concentration. Camila's eyes are shut, and she's smiling fiercely, her grin so big it threatens to split her face. She remembers struggling so hard not to laugh that day while Lauren did her makeup. Fuck. This stupid, stupid homoerotic moment.
"Dinah took it," Lauren says, just like Camila thought. "Okay, now here's the real gift."
Camila stares at her in disbelief. "What's the real-"
And then Lauren is lifting it out of the bag and Camila completely loses her breath.
"Lauren." It comes out filled with so much longing she wants to die. "You didn't."
Because in front of her Lauren is holding a painting of the Polaroid clasped tightly in Camila's hand. Full color. It looks like so much time went into it that suddenly the part of Camila's tipsy brain that is utterly in love with her best friend sort of feels like crying. In the lower left corner - initials. LMJ.
Fuck. Lauren painted it herself.
Camila knows Lauren paints. She found out a while ago that most if not all of the oil paintings on Lauren's living room wall are ones she did herself. "A hobby of mine," Lauren had told her wistfully. "When I was in high school I took so many art classes. I was always really passionate about it but since I moved out here I haven't really had the chance to paint again." She had shown Camila her easel, stuffed in the very back of her closet, and her collection of paints and paintbrushes, almost as varied and plentiful as her accumulation of makeup products. "Haven't touched them in so long," Lauren had said, and she sounded a little regretful.
Except now she has, and she did it because of Camila, just so she could paint this piece of art of the two of them wrapped up in each other exactly how Camila pictures them, always. Wordlessly, Camila reaches out to brush the edge of the canvas with her fingertips. It's abstract enough for their faces to be vague, vague enough that if Camila hung this up on her wall maybe people who hadn't seen the original photo wouldn't even know that it was her and Lauren in the painting.
But Camila would know. She would always know.
She just can't believe Lauren would do this for her, would put so much time and effort into painting this just for her. Because they're friends, of course, but Lauren didn't go this far for her gifts for Normani and Dinah. Because they're best friends, maybe. But this photo? And Camila can't stop thinking about how long this took her-
Lauren is a brat and she's smiling so smugly and self-indulgently that Camila kind of wants to push her off the bed. She mostly wants to kiss her. "I did," Lauren says, and her smile is like a forest fire, burning Camila up from the inside out. "What, is it okay?"
"Is it okay?" Camila repeats, high and shrill. "You fucking bitch. Oh my god. I love it so much. Fuck you!" She's wrapping Lauren in the tightest hug, leaning all of her weight onto her, her whole body flushed and hot with gratitude and love and love and so much love. "How long did it take you to do this?"
"Hmm." They split apart. Lauren is beaming, trying to seem modest and failing completely. "I don't know. Maybe a couple days?" She tilts her head, eyes wide like a puppy. "So you like it?"
"Shut up, Lauren, oh my god. You know I love it. I can't believe you would- I love you!"
"Love you more." Lauren is so pleased with herself. "I knew you would love it," she says. "I don't know, the moment Dinah showed me that picture-" She taps the Polaroid in Camila's hand- "I just saw it so clearly in my head as a painting. So I was going to paint it already. And then it turned out kind of good, and of course it has you in it, and you're such a sucker for sentimental shit - I thought it would be the perfect present."
Camila stares at her. She could not stop smiling even if she tried. "That's so sweet, jesus," she says. "Now I feel like I should've made you something better. This is just so, so amazing. How am I supposed to beat this?"
Lauren shrugs. "I knew you couldn't," she says, and then she bursts out laughing. "Seriously, Camila, anything you give me... no matter what it is, I'm going to love it anyway because you gave it to me."
Camila's heart feels like it could burst.
When it hits midnight, most of their friends are sloppy drunk and taking Ubers home. Camila is half in Lauren's lap and they're watching Elf on Lauren's flatscreen, drinking hot cocoa with peppermint sticks because Camila loves Christmas. Lauren flat-out refused to decorate her apartment so instead Camila was the one who dragged out twinkling Christmas lights and draped them anywhere she could manage. She's lame, but right now it seemed like a really good decision.
Lauren is playing with Camila's hair, and Camila could melt into her any second. "I wish we were playing Outlast," Lauren says into her ear. "Also, it's midnight."
Camila leaps out of her lap immediately. "It's midnight!" Her eyes zero in on her gift for Lauren under the tree. "Okay," she says as she goes to get it, "if you don't like it, you can totally tell me, but please be sensitive because I am sensitive." She's also been steadily drinking all night and it's caused her filter to shatter and die. Perks of most of the House of H girls being 21 and over - they supply their underage friends with good wine.
Lauren eyes the box. It's perfectly wrapped, duh. "Give me a hint," she says.
"No, bitch, just open it!" Camila is practically bouncing in place.
"Oh my god, I'm scared."
"Open it, Lo, please. I will die from anticipation."
Lauren tears apart the wrapping paper and then carefully lifts the top off of the box, and her eyes get huge when she sees it. She stares up at Camila. "Holy shit." She lifts the gift out and immediately her jaw drops. "Holy shit, Camz, you didn't."
"I did," Camila says, and maybe they really are both that annoying.
"It's perfect. It's so- jesus fuck, Camila." Lauren's smile is so big that it makes all the late nights and cramped hands worth it. "This is unbelievable." She clutches it to her chest, her eyes squeezing shut. "You're seriously an angel. I- no one else has ever made something like this for me before."
"Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe," Camila recites, and Lauren looks so utterly happy that Camila thinks she could never love a person more.
The gift idea started at House of Hernandez, both of them sitting side-by-side at their vanities. Lauren was criticizing Camila (as she frequently did) for her empty mirror. "You need to put pictures up," she was saying, tapping her nails against the bare glass. She must've just gotten them done - ruby-red, for the holidays, probably. "It's so empty it makes me sad."
"I don't have any aesthetically pleasing pictures of myself," Camila said. She got up so she could hoist herself up on Lauren's vanity, scan all her Polaroids like she did so often. She bet Lauren's never had that problem in her life. Every picture Lauren was in was aesthetically pleasing just by her being in them.
One of the pictures caught her eye, a black picture with a white illustration of a sun and moon intertwined and kissing on it. It was the only thing on Lauren's mirror that wasn't a Polaroid photo, but maybe something printed off the Internet. She pointed at it. "What's that?"
Lauren had stared at it. "You're going to laugh," she said.
"Never."
Lauren paused, putting her makeup down. "It's this thing I read on Tumblr once," she said. "Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe. It's just about, you know, how when you fall in love with someone you feel like you could sacrifice anything just for their happiness. Not even to be with them, just to make them happy. Even if that means being apart, or being in pain. Complete and utter selfless love."
Camila had never heard Lauren talk about love like this before, and it made her heart wrench and her stomach flutter like some lovestruck preteen.
"That is so het," Camila said. "So het and so cheesy." But then Lauren looked a little miffed at her dismissal, so she rushed to say, "I mean, out of the two of us I thought I was the more hopeless romantic type. This just seems so..." Not Lauren? Everything she knew about allergic-to-commitment fuckgirl Lauren was so not this, so it kind of took her aback to see Lauren so protective over it.
"Well, I like it," Lauren said resolutely. "I don't care if it's cheesy. It means a lot to me. It's very sweet and very romantic. Plus I'm a Cancer, and we're ruled by the moon, so of course this speaks to me."
"Of course," Camila replied automatically. She studied Lauren's profile, at her green eyes, the contemplative fix of her mouth. "It is very romantic," she agreed. "Very cute. Very heterosexual rom-com."
She had never seen Lauren blush in her life but she thought that might be what was happening. "Shut up," Lauren whined, pressing her hands to her cheeks. "You can't make fun of me for being a sap. I just really resonate with it, okay?"
Camila couldn't stop smiling because Lauren was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. "Okay."
"Stop!"
"I didn't say anything!"
They may have laughed it off, but it stuck in Camila's brain - the quote, the striking look on Lauren's face when she had explained it. When the holidays were beginning to roll around Camila decided to put her embroidery expertise to good use. It was something she had learned back in high school, because she learned all of the 1950s housewife hobbies (and so did most of her friends). Maybe she'd never tell Lauren, but the sun and moon story kind of resonated with her a little bit, too.
She went out and bought this oversized black denim jacket at a thrift shop, and then set out on this particular project.
And now she's here and Lauren is enthralled with the jacket and she's also looking at Camila like she's a god. She's running her fingers over the embroidery on the back of the jacket - smooth white thread that makes up an outline of the sun and moon kissing, exactly like that picture Lauren loves so much. And the lyrics embroidered in tiny letters underneath it, just because she's so ready to fuel Lauren's eternal Lana Del Rey obsession-
"Heaven is a place on earth with you," Lauren sings in her raspy voice, and Camila could just drop dead right there. "Jesus. It's perfect."
"Right?" Camila's so proud of herself for pulling something like this off, and the wondrous expression on Lauren's face is so- it's just everything. Lauren smacks her arm but she doesn't let go of the jacket. "Don't get a big head," she chastises, but then she breaks out into bubbly laughter. "Or do. This is incredible. You're incredible." Her nose is scrunched up as she smiles, her teeth peeking out between her lips. "This is the best thing I've ever seen." And then, like that wasn't enough, she adds, "I love you."
"Love you too, Lo." They say it more than they probably should for being best friends, but it's Christmas and they're drunk and they can let it go just this once.
-
The next time they get back to work, Lauren is wearing the jacket Camila gave her and she tells anyone who will listen how it's the best Christmas present she's ever gotten. Camila is sort of, kind of obsessed with her. But that's hardly anything new, so.
-
By New Year's the Hernandez sisters are back in LA and Lucy is insistent on having a New Year's Eve party.
"We're so found family," Camila says when Lauren tells her that they have this every year. "I love it."
She gets ready at Lauren's apartment with Normani and Dinah and they get way more dolled up than appropriate for a party that's just going to be the people she sees at work every day. Tiny dresses, makeup so heavy it rivals the stuff they wear on stage. Lauren wants to do Camila's makeup but she can't handle that sort of gay tension right now, not when her self-control is so fragile, so instead Dinah does Camila's face, breathing vodka on her the whole time. They're pre-gaming, except for Lauren, who's driving.
Lucy's house, naturally, is huge and decorated like a HGTV wet dream, clean and a little impersonal. Lauren waltzes in like she owns the place and Camila doesn't want to think about how often she's been here.
Also, she loses Lauren almost immediately, because Camila gets caught up in Normani and Dinah's shenanigans, as per usual. They monopolize the kitchen and take a lot of shots until Normani and Dinah are wasted. Camila tries to moderate herself. She's the only one out of the three who manages to keep her heels on and make her way up the staircase without tripping, so she thinks she's at least sober enough.
They lock themselves in one of Lucy's many bathrooms so they can have a quintessential drunk girl conversation. Dinah is staring out the bathroom window, moony-eyed at the dark sky and the bright lights. Normani is perched on the counter, touching up her lip gloss. All Camila's slightly intoxicated brain wants to talk about is Lauren.
"Do you think she likes me back?"
"You're literally so annoying." Normani is kind of mean when she's drunk. "Why does it matter? She's probably making out with Lucy downstairs right now."
Camila frowns. She hops up on the counter next to Normani. "I feel like she says the most romantic things to me but it never means anything."
"I don't think you understand how much I literally do not want to talk about this," Normani says, but she caps her lip gloss and wraps her arms around Camila's waist. She presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, leaving a sticky print that Camila wipes off with her thumb. "Look," Normani tells her, "that's who Lauren is. She's just very flirty and very affectionate. I don't want you to take that as something it's not. I am telling you this as a friend who was also in love with her at one point in time - it is not worth it."
This is the last thing Camila wants to hear. "I'm not in love with her," she says, and Normani and Dinah are both completely aware she's lying. Then, softer, "I don't want to be in love with her."
"Cliché ass bitch," Dinah says from where she's balancing on the edge of the tub. Camila has never seen her smoke before but right now she has a cigarette between her teeth and she's flicking a lighter in her hand.
"You're only going to get hurt." Normani sounds floaty and far away. "I just - make sure you know that before you do anything stupid."
"I don't want to get hurt," Camila says sadly, but she also thinks that maybe she already is.
Normani seems to take pity on her, because she leans her head against Camila's and hugs her tightly to her side. "I know, baby," she murmurs. "I know."
They spend too long in that bathroom, letting Dinah smoke cigarettes out of Lucy's cracked-open window, talking in circles about the most unimportant things. Camila feels not very drunk when they come back downstairs, but Dinah's clinging onto one of her arms and Normani is holding her hand, so maybe they're all okay.
When it hits midnight, everybody watches the ball drop on Lucy's flatscreen. Somewhere along the way Camila and her two musketeers have gotten party hats strapped to their heads, and Dinah blows air through a plastic kazoo in celebration. There are a lot of party poppers involved, and Camila doesn't know where they came from. She's enjoying her girls, enjoying their company, enjoying sobering up with sparkling cider so she can actually remember this night tomorrow.
Ally is here, finally. She has a glass of champagne in her hand, holding it so elegantly that Camila thinks she must've been some sort of royalty in her past life. She smiles at Camila across the room, and Camila smiles back.
Dinah's traipsing around the living room, ducking into the kitchen, smelling like an ashtray, making fun of everyone she sees sharing a New Year's kiss. Normani and Camila trail behind her because they have nothing better to do. Camila's humming a Lana Del Rey song because tonight Lauren wore the denim jacket Camila gave her over her minidress for no damn reason except "it was her favorite piece of clothing in the world", or something like that.
Lauren's in the kitchen, too, and that jacket is draped over her shoulders, and she's pressed up against the kitchen island with Lucy practically attached to her neck. Camila watches as Lauren giggles, her fingers threading through Lucy's hair as she bites hickeys into Lauren's collarbone, and Camila stops dead in her tracks.
Normani is tugging at her hand, saying her name, but it's like Camila can do nothing but laser-focus on Lauren and Lucy it that moment, and when she exhales she feels all heavy and tired. "Sorry," she says to Normani. "I'm being dumb. Just- I'm going to the bathroom."
She doesn't bother going all the way up the stairs this time. She finds solace in Lucy's downstairs hall bathroom, that Lana Del Rey song in her head like a broken record - What's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt? And she's stupid, and irrational, and she knows that. She's like a high schooler, swept up in the current of cruel, boundless infatuation. Drowning, maybe. She sighs and fixes her hair in the mirror because she's an idiot. Normani is right. She's always right when it comes to Lauren, somehow.
"Jesus. Please don't tell me you're moping in here like an angsty teenager?"
Camila turns to see Ariana standing in the doorway, her hair slicked back into a high ponytail, sleek strands coming out to frame her face. She looks like a supermodel, as usual.
"I am an angsty teenager," Camila says, because there's really nothing else to say. Ariana steps into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. "I'm just tired." She doesn't feel the need to elaborate because Ariana is basically all-knowing.
"I know the feeling," Ariana says.
"You don't have feelings."
Ariana laughs at this, her head tipping back just slightly, showing off the sharp curve of her jawline. She is painfully beautiful.
"I just don't understand why the two of them feel the need to basically have sex out there on the counter," Camila mutters. She's being dramatic. She doesn't care.
Ariana is smirking at her. She moves closer, acrylic nails tapping on the bathroom counter, all of them long except her pointer and middle. Camila suddenly feels warmth and a whole lot of deja vu. "You're just jealous because Lauren is out there fucking someone that's not you," Ariana says, her voice a low purr.
"Shut up," Camila says. She might be staring at Ariana's lips right now. "God, I hate you." Ariana just oozes sex appeal out of every pore. Camila doesn't know how she does it.
"I'm up to fuck you instead," Ariana says very sincerely.
Camila snorts. "Fuck off," she says, turning to squint at her own reflection in the mirror, at the mascara that's flaked off under her eyes. Then she slides her gaze back over to Ariana, who has both hands planted on her hips, a forever intimidating presence despite her short stature. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious." The corner of Ariana's mouth curls upwards.
"Hmm." Camila props her hip up against the sink, staring at Ariana like a challenge. "You can't tell Lauren about this," she insists.
"Like she'd care," Ariana says, and- ouch. It hits Camila in a soft, sensitive place inside her chest, and she has to fight to control her facial expression. Fuck. Fuck. But she's right, and Lauren doesn't care, because she's out there on the counter letting Lucy kiss the life out of her and if Camila and Lauren are never going to happen she might as well take what she has right in front of her.
"You're awful," she tells Ariana, and then she kisses her.
-
Ariana is wrong. Lauren does care. A couple days after New Year's Camila comes over to Lauren's apartment and the moment she steps in the doorway Lauren is there, arms crossed over her chest, staring at her accusingly. Instantly Camila's hand flies to her neck before she reminds herself that she covered all of her hickeys beforehand.
"You slept with her," Lauren says. "You slept with Ariana."
"Umm." Camila is at a loss for words as she kicks her flip flops off. Winter in LA is no winter at all. "Yeah, I did. And it wasn't the first time, either!" She punctuates this with a smile but Lauren seems to not be in the mood. Camila pushes past her.
"Don't be a cunt." Lauren follows her into the kitchen and hoists herself up on the counter. Camila slides two coffees - one for herself, one for Lauren - across it. "Why didn't you tell me?"
This strikes Camila as hilarious, and she lets out a laugh. "Are we talking about our sex lives now?" she asks sardonically. "I mean, I don't want to know about every time you hook up with someone, so."
It comes out harsher than she means it to because she's feeling sensitive and when she's feeling sensitive, she lashes out. It isn't fair. Lauren looks a little wounded when she glances back at her, and Camila instantly feels bad. "Sorry," slips out of her mouth. "I just... I don't know what you want. It was New Year's. We all made questionable sexual decisions." She points out, "You had sex with Lucy."
Lauren is quiet. Her fingernails scrape against the skin under her charm bracelet. "I didn't have sex with Lucy," she says eventually, and then, "New Year's was kind of the worst night ever."
She just looks so soft, and her jade-green eyes are so suddenly vulnerable that all the stubbornness immediately dissolves from Camila's body. She exhales and makes her way over to Lauren, to where she's sitting on the counter, places herself between her legs. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to be- what happened?" She wraps her arms around Lauren's waist, the softness of her middle. Lauren relaxes into her in that way she always does, and Camila is such a bitch. She didn't even think-
"We had a fight," Lauren sighs into her shoulder. "Usual shit. She wants to tie me down, I'm too much of a flighty asshole to be with her."
"Lauren."
Lauren pulls back from her. She's tugging on her bottom lip - her most obvious nervous tick. "Not really that," she admits. "It's just- she told me she'd wait for me to be ready to be in a real relationship with her. I was kind of drunk, I didn't know if she meant it or not. But it rubbed me the wrong way for her to say that this thing we have together would somehow become an actual monogamous relationship in the future. Because I told her- I mean, I told her I didn't want that, when we first started fooling around."
Camila is rubbing circles with her thumb onto Lauren's thigh, trying to calm her down. "You told her you didn't want to be monogamous in general?" she prompts gently. "Or with her specifically?"
"I said in general every time I said it. I guess that made her think she could change my mind." Lauren places her hand over Camila's, squeezing it. It's all so domestic and affectionate and fucking christ. "I said something dumb about how she'd be waiting for a long time, and she got upset. Mad at me, I guess. But then I got mad at her, because, like - how is she going to get mad at me for reiterating something I told her at the beginning of all this? So then we started fighting, and I walked out and I was stupid drunk and I was trying to find you, but..." She trails off, shrugging. "I mean. You were having fun. So that makes one of us."
Camila opens her mouth, but Lauren quickly says, "Not saying it's your fault! God. I was just wasted and emo. You were having a good time, you had every right to have a good time. Like. Just because we're best friends doesn't mean we have to be together twenty-four-seven. My drunk brain really wanted you, that's all." She shrugs. "You're my go-to. My safe place."
Then she smiles softly, like she didn't just say the sweetest thing in the world.
"I love you," Camila says, because she can't help herself. Lauren stares back at her, and then tugs her in for a hug, looping her arms around her tightly.
"I love you too," Lauren mumbles, right next to Camila's ear. "Love you so much."
Lauren loves her and Camila just wants to spend the rest of her life like this, in Lauren's arms, in this one uninterrupted faultless moment. She feels this way and she never wants it to stop.
-
Camila stays over for an impromptu sleepover. They sleep in the same bed because that's what best friends do.
In the middle of the night, she wakes up to Lauren whispering, "Camila." She feels Lauren's nails poking at her shoulder, and then her arms snaking around her waist. "Hey, Camz. You awake?"
"Well, now I am, dumbass." Camila's voice is thick with sleep. She has this talent of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, no matter what. It's especially easy to fall asleep in Lauren's apartment right next to her, curled up together in her bed. Lauren seems to have more of a difficult time drifting off into sleep. Camila can't count the number of times she's woken up because Lauren was playing a video on her phone just a little too loud and the sound bled through her headphones and jolted Camila awake.
Camila rolls over to face Lauren. She can barely make out her features in the dark. "What do you need?"
"I can't sleep," Lauren says. She's so close to whining. "And it's too hot."
"You woke me up for that?" Camila groans, then reaches out so she can feel Lauren's forehead with the back of her hand. "It's too hot with the both of us in the bed," she decides. "Want me to go sleep on the couch?"
"No, no, don't leave me. Ever. Jeez. I'm getting up to turn the air on." There's a small pause. "Don't leave?" It comes out as more than a question.
"Oh my god." Lauren is such an idiot. "You were the one who woke me up, Lauren. How would I have left if I was still sleeping?"
Lauren clicks on the bedside lamp. "I just wanted to talk to you," she says. "Just wanted to let you know. What if you woke up to an empty bed? You would've gotten worried. And you get paranoid easily. Honestly waking you up was the best move for a lot of reasons."
Lauren is an idiot but she's also kind of right. "Whatever."
And then Lauren is bounding off, and the air in her apartment kicks on. Lauren climbs back into the bed within seconds. There's a silence, and Camila rolls over to look at her.
Lauren is still upright, and she's wearing this odd, unguarded expression, soft in the light of the lamp. Before Camila knows it Lauren is reaching out to touch Camila's cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear. Camila feels like her face is on fire. She props herself up a little bit. "What is it?"
"She said I was perfect," Lauren says. She sounds very distant. Camila thinks she might look a little sad.
"Who?"
"Lucy. When we were having our fight." She draws in a breath. "She wanted me to quit my job."
"She wanted you to what?" Jesus christ. Lauren lives for that job, Camila knows that. Everyone knows that. How could Lucy - and she's her boss, too. Christ.
"Yeah." Lauren pulls her knees up to her chest. "She said- she said I was too perfect to be working a job like this, where men look at me like a piece of meat." She seems to be caught on the word and Camila doesn't know why. "I feel like she doesn't know who I am. She couldn't if she said that." Lauren is speaking haltingly, like she can't get her thoughts in order.
"Lauren," Camila suggests gently, "I think maybe she was just trying to give you a compliment." She sits up now, moving to find Lauren's hand, intertwining their fingers.
"I know that." Lauren sounds very far away. Her eyes are huge when she looks over at Camila. "I just... you know that I'm not perfect, right?"
"I know," Camila reassures her. It seems like the only thing she can say. "I mean, I don't think anyone can be perfect. I'm not perfect. It's a fickle word."
Back in high school that was always who she was. Little miss perfect. Little miss cheerleader with the four-point-oh, church-going good-girl with the great voice. She tried so hard to be that girl. No faults, no flaws. She needed to be a caricature of who everyone else wanted her to be. Her family, her friends. They all needed her to be that girl. Maybe it didn't even matter that it wasn't real. It was just what she needed to present, the mask she needed to wear.
"Yeah." Lauren shakes her head, like she's trying to bring herself back into her body. She squeezes Camila's hand, once, then twice. "Sorry. It's a harmless word. I just- the way she said it- sorry. I'm being weird."
"You're not being weird," Camila reassures her. "It's not really the word that bothers you, it's what Lucy meant when she said it. You're concerned that Lucy only wants you for who she thinks you are, and not who you really are. She likes her idea of you. You think she doesn't see you. That's why you can't be with her. It's a very valid thing to be worried about." Lauren is very quiet, and anxiety spins in Camila's chest that she might be completely off base. She glances over at her. "I mean. Right?"
"God," Lauren whispers. "Get out of my head."
Then they're both laughing, a little hushed, a little shy. Lauren leans on Camila, burying her face in her neck. Camila can feel Lauren's smile against her skin. In that moment Camila loves her and she loves her so acutely, loves her like this, sweet and uncertain and with her heart wide open, letting Camila see her. She is so delightfully unpretentious, and honest, and good. When she first met Lauren she thought there couldn't be a more perfect girl.
She still kind of thinks that. But Lauren is human. She is not any more perfect than Camila is. She loves her all the more for it.
"Thank you." Lauren's breath is hot, and it sends goosebumps along Camila's collarbone. "Even if you're not perfect, you're probably the closest thing on the planet to it."
She says that, and Camila loves her. She thinks she'll never feel like this about anyone ever again.
-
"You know what I like about LA?"
They're sitting on the steps leading up to Lauren's door. Lauren is a little drunk and a lot beautiful.
Camila turns to her, sees the thoughtful look in Lauren's eye, a trademark that she's going to say something either incredibly intelligent or incredibly stupid. She hums, knocks Lauren's knee with her own. "What do you like about LA, babe?" she asks patiently.
Lauren points straight up into the dark sky. "That you can't see any of the stars because of the pollution."
This is not even that funny. It still sends them both into a fit of giggles, Camila falling slightly into Lauren, catching herself against her shoulder. "Stupid, stupid," she says. "You're so fucking stupid."
It's sort of their favorite thing - being stupid together. Camila wouldn't trade it for the world.
-
Lucy is stubborn and whatever spat she's had with Lauren has seemed to only make her want to hold Lucky hostage forever. Camila badgers her tirelessly. She relents sometime in mid-January, because although Lucy is being an asshole, it's just not who she is.
"How about this." She spreads her hands wide, a peace offering. "You two can perform it on Valentine's Day. The number is cheesy enough for it to only work on a holiday like that."
It's almost too perfect and Camila hugs Lucy very tightly and thanks her profusely. Lucy says she's only doing this because Camila has annoyed all the fight out of her.
It doesn't matter. Camila takes it and runs.
-
Camila is on top of the world. Flying high. The peak of a rollercoaster, sitting there, biding her time, basking in the glow of the sun. Entirely cinematic. She could write a song about it if she wanted.
(Realistically, the only place she could possibly go is down.)
-
"My favorite part about House of Hernandez is the clothes," Dinah says dreamily, twirling around in her purple lingerie that's supposed to be serving as an outfit. They have some gorgeous beaded corsets and bodysuits, but good-quality lingerie never fails under the lights, against the oil-painting backdrop, in front of the cheering crowd tossing money on stage.
"I agree," Lauren says, leaning forward, elbows propped up on her vanity so she can inspect her reflection. She's in the same lingerie that Dinah is, and her boobs are practically spilling out. Camila looks similarly scandalous. Purple is definitely her color. Settling herself on her stool, she stretches one of her legs out, flexing her calf. She and Lauren had done their toenails together the other day, and both hers and Lauren's are painted a glossy black.
"I've never looked so good, ever," Lauren continues. They're all barely wearing any clothes, but Camila feels the sentiment exactly.
It's Valentine's Day. Fucking finally. Lucky is the closing number, and so while Dinah and the rest of the girls are changing into even skimpier underwear, Lauren's tugging on a lacy black dress that hugs her curves perfectly and Camila is in this silky red slip. Lauren's lips are red to match Camila's dress. By the time they're both dressed, all the other girls are already out onstage for the second-to-last number, and it's just the two of them up in the dressing room.
Camila drinks too much caffeine and is about to take a shot of tequila before she realizes that alcohol, Red Bull, and her nerves all combined will just end in her puking on stage or something similar. Stage fright has been something she hasn't gotten since she was her high school musical productions. She has a hell of a voice on her and she knows it. But today she's felt frantic and paranoid like she hasn't felt in years.
Instead of drinking she turns to Lauren and wraps her in a hug just because she feels like it. Lauren seems to be similarly jittery - she's been hyper all day, flitting around the dressing room like she can't get herself to sit still. Even in a hug she's still swaying a little on the balls of her feet.
They might be hugging a little too long because Lauren's hand drifts down to Camila's ass. Camila eyes her suspiciously. "Lo?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sexually frustrated," Lauren says by way of explanation. "Oh my god." She moves away from her, checking her reflection out in the mirror. "I look hot, right?" she asks, placing a hand over her stomach and sucking it in. She kicks one of her legs up, raking her nails along her thigh. See what Camila meant by hyperactive? A spike of hope shoots through her at the thought that Lauren might be just as nervous as she is about tonight.
It's basically a rhetorical question. Lauren knows she's drop-dead gorgeous. "Hotter than hell," Camila says, sidling up behind her. Lauren hooks one of her knees up to Camila's waist, and Camila grabs her thigh, holding her leg as Lauren leans her hip against the vanity. She's looking at their reflection together in the mirror, smiling.
"We look so good together," Lauren says. "Do you want to have a threesome with me?"
"Jesus christ!" Camila scream-laughs, dropping Lauren's leg abruptly, and they both dissolve into giggles, Lauren tipping her forehead against Camila's shoulder. "You're fucking disgusting, Lauren."
"I know you do," Lauren says matter-of-factly. "God, I need to get laid," she half-moans, turning around to face the mirror again. She rubs her lips together, smearing her red lipstick a little over her cupid's bow. She pauses and waits diligently when Camila takes her chin in her hands and wipes the smudges off with her thumb. Once she drops her hands, Lauren speaks again, mussing her dark hair between her nails.
"I feel sexy," she says conversationally, placing her hands on her hips, turning to the right, then to the left. "Should I get some random guy to fuck me in the bathroom?"
"No," Camila says immediately, and- no, god, it's not because she's jealous. It's because she has fucking common sense. "Aren't you scared you might get something?"
"Like an STD?" If it were anyone else Camila thinks they might have gotten offended, but Lauren seems to take Camila's comment for what it is - genuine concern. "Huh. Yeah, you're right. I mean, usually I ask the guy beforehand, and they're usually married so they only have one sexual partner so they're clean-"
"Lauren, please tell me you don't fuck married men. Don't you have morals?"
"Zero. And they're the ones trying to fuck me, bitch. I feel bad for the wives, but what am I going to do about it?"
"You're so fucking annoying," Camila groans at the shit-eating grin on her face, hugging Lauren to her chest. "So annoying. I swear to god, I can't stand you."
"In all honesty," Lauren tells her as they sway side to side, "I try not to make it habit of having sex with grown men at the club. It feels good in the moment, but I always really regret it later. That's what was happening the night of- you remember that? When that pervy guy was groping me?"
The memory flashes into Camila's brain in an instant, and she feels an unpleasant, wrenching tug in her chest at how upset Lauren was that night, shaky and glassy-eyed, trying to cover it up with a frozen, plastic smile. "Yeah," she says, almost reflexively pulling Lauren closer to her. She hates to think of Lauren like that - hates to think of her hurt, or sad.
"If I think about it too much sometimes it can get to me," Lauren says. "I mean, if I didn't like the attention most of the time I wouldn't have taken this job. But it's like..." She hums, reaching up to tuck the wayward strands of Camila's hair behind her ears. "I have to be in a very specific, very sexually charged headspace to handle stuff like that. I have to prepare myself. If I'm not ready or if I'm not expecting it and it catches me off-guard, I can get... you know. How I got that night."
"Lauren," Camila breathes out, suddenly feeling pity for this beautiful girl in front of her. She always seems so in control, so sure of herself, so sure of everything. It's strange to think of her like this - to think of her hurting and uncomfortable and scared. Camila tucks Lauren's head into the crook of her neck, kisses her temple once, then twice. She smells like sweat and booze and thick, heady jasmine: the scent of House of Hernandez, the same one that clings onto clothes Camila wears to rehearsal, or her duffel bag she brings her every day. It's familiar, and only slightly intoxicating.
"It's okay for you to feel uncomfortable with grown men objectifying you. You're eighteen." Camila still hasn't managed to get used to it herself. She hasn't gotten openly felt up, mostly because she moves fast and tries to never be alone out on the floor without someone else accompanying her. She gets lewd compliments, but she hasn't gotten harassed. Not like Lauren has. "You're allowed to not like the attention sometimes. And if you ever feel like that all you have to do is call for me and I'll come rescue you, okay? I'm always here."
For a while, she's just holding her, and all there is to hear is Lauren's breathing and the faint sound of the music coming from the stage.
"How is it that you always know the right things to say?" Lauren wonders aloud. "I know I tell you this all the time, but you really are an angel." She searches Camila's features in a way that makes her feel naked. "You put up with so much of my shit," she says. "I don't think I ever give you enough credit for that. You're like the best person I know."
It's so similar to what Lauren told her before Christmas, sick and half-asleep. The best, prettiest person I've ever met. Camila doesn't even try to hide her blush because it's so not worth it at this point. "It's not like it's a chore to put up with you, you know," she says. "It's not a burden to spend all my time with you. I want to spend all my time with you." She's inching dangerously close to the truth, here, with Lauren's face so close to her own, but she can't stop herself.
There's a small smile on Lauren's lips. "Yeah," she says softly. "Ditto. You're my number one girl."
Camila is so full of love and affection and longing that she thinks if they stay here any longer like this, she'll kiss her, or tell her everything, spilling her guts out, tugging her heart out. She just wants something to happen. Something, anything.
And then Lauren is leaning away from her, just a little, so she can check her lipstick. Camila lets her go hop up on her stool one more time, and she stays, studying Lauren's impossibly pretty face. She just wants her so- fucking- bad.
"I love you," Camila says, because she can't stop herself, and also because she wants to see Lauren smile. And she does, beautifully, one that lights up her whole face, her eyes. She smiles with her whole body. She smiles and she glows. She smiles and Camila has never felt this way before.
"I love you more," Lauren says, and she always says that. "Probably more than anyone else in the world." She meets Camila's eyes in the mirror, and she's smiling, and Camila is so fucking far gone. "You should know that, too."
It means something, it has to. It has to mean something.
-
They sing Lucky. They look beautiful, Camila in her red dress and Lauren in lacy black, as they circle around each each other, voices layering smoothly, perfectly. They just work, Camila thinks deliriously, they work, they fit so well together. She can't be imagining this.
Lucky I'm in love with my best friend - she sings it, and everyone knows it. Everyone in the audience must see it. Camila is laying her heart out there on the stage and she doesn't care who knows anymore because she's so tired and she wants Lauren so bad, so bad she doesn't want to hide it or pretend it isn't there anymore. Lauren's gleaming green eyes, wise beyond her years underneath the hot stage lights. Her fingertips sending sparks down Camila's skin as she touches her hip, keeping her there, keeping them together. Camila thinks she never wants them to be apart. Lucky I'm in love with my best friend - and oh, oh god, she is.
The moment they get backstage, Camila wraps Lauren in a hug, and they're both giggling and breathing hard and Lauren is fisting her hands through Camila's hair and Camila's heart is beating so, so fast, and she's so in love with Lauren in that moment and maybe always, and she's so close, and so beautiful, and Camila wants to do this forever and ever and ever.
"I love you," Lauren says breathlessly into her ear, and it feels like a prayer, a sign. Camila lost her faith years ago but she thinks she might find it again somewhere in Lauren's eyes. "Love you, love you, love you. That was everything. We were everything."
Camila wants to kiss her. She wants to do something, wants to hold her, wants to tell her that she meant every word up there on that stage. Instead she just pulls back and smiles at her. "We were pretty great, huh?"
"More than great." Lauren grabs her hands. "That was amazing. You are amazing." She seems luminescent even in the darkness of the backstage area.
Laughing, practically attached at the hip, the two of them struggle up the stairs in their heels. Camila grabs Lauren's waist as the taller girl collapses against her, leaning against the nearest vanity. Lauren's giggling uncontrollably, and Camila is grinning at her, and she feels like her heart is about to beat out of her chest. Lauren's the most incredible girl in the world, she muses. She's never going to meet anyone she likes more than her. She's never going to meet anyone so special, who she shares such a connection with, someone who she feels so strongly about. And Lauren knows, she knows, she must, she knew on that stage - lucky I'm in love with my best friend, and Lauren knows-
And then her girl is spinning out of her arms and towards Lucy. "Luce!" Lauren calls out to her, throwing her arms around her. "How did I do?"
"You did perfect, baby," Lucy says to her, running her hands through Lauren's silky hair. "You looked beautiful. You sounded flawless."
"Oh, thank you!" Lauren cheers. She squeals when Lucy tugs her to her chest, and then she loops her arms around Lucy's neck and kisses her mouth, hard.
Lucy immediately deepens the kiss, and- fuck.
Camila's stomach turns and she has to look away. Suddenly she feels the horrible, all-too-familiar cold, a head-to-toe chill that makes her slump against the vanity. She feels so instantly sober, so fast it's like whiplash, her intoxication of her performance and her feelings while she looked at Lauren while she sang fading away into a dull, painful ache inside her chest.
Wow, she thinks bitterly, and she ducks her head. Really, what did she expect? That after the flirting and the song and the on-stage chemistry she could finally maybe tell Lauren how she feels? That by the grace of God Lauren would feel the same way?
No. Lauren likes to flirt and likes to say shit and it doesn't even mean anything, and Camila was dumb and naïve enough to take what she said at face value. The flirting and the touching - it's just her version of fucking friendship, and now the truth is here, abrupt and awful like a sucker punch. Pathetically, Camila thinks she might cry.
If anything were to ever happen it would be now. And instead Lauren is in another girl's arms. After everything-
"Does this mean you'll date me now?" Lauren is saying teasingly. "That I'll be less than a booty call to you? Because I'm so perfect, because I'm so flawless-"
Lucy is laughing and then they're kissing again and Camila literally wants to fucking die. She feels like she could. She feels like she could collapse, even though she knows it's irrational and like she said, despite Lauren's words and her flirting, she doesn't owe her anything, she never did. It doesn't make her hurt any less. She was sure this time, she thought she saw it - she was sure Lauren knew and she was sure there was fucking something, there had to be-
"Camz!"
But no. There's nothing. She made it all up in her head. There is nothing there at all.
Regretfully, Camila turns to look up at them. Lauren is beaming at her with kiss-swollen lips, her red lipstick smeared a little around her mouth. "You can catch a ride with someone else, right?" she asks. "Lucy is going to take me back to her place tonight." She tips into Lucy as Lucy kisses all along her face, and Camila wants to melt into the floor.
She doesn't owe you anything she doesn't owe you anything shedoesn'toweyouanything-
"Yeah, that's fine," Camila says, trying to smile, but she's sure that it's coming out all wrong. Lauren doesn't seem to notice, though. Camila remembers how Lauren told her that she was so easy to read. She figures that doesn't matter when Lauren's not even looking at her.
What happened? she wants to scream. What happened to Lauren looking so distraught, telling Camila she said I was perfect and being so upset because she knew Lucy didn't see her - what happened to that? What happened to you're my go-to, to you're my safe place, to Lauren saying she was her soulmate, or any of the stupid shit she said? What happened to fifteen minutes ago when Lauren said to Camila she loved her more than anyone else in the world? What happened to you're my number one girl? What happened to any of that?
Camila feels like she's going out of her mind. So none of it was ever real? And Lauren was never flirting? Or if she did, it meant nothing? Well, obviously it meant nothing, because now Lauren is wrapped up in Lucy, her hands tangled in Lucy's hair just like they were tangled in Camila's a second ago. And none of it ever means shit.
Camila steadies herself against her vanity and blinks the tears away, because even though she is dumb and pathetic, she still has enough dignity to not cry while Lauren's still in the room. She's not stupid enough for that. She is stupid but not that stupid.
Stupid enough to fall for her best friend and her pretty face and prettier words and all her bullshit? Yes. But not stupid enough to cry here. You have to at least give her that.
-
Normani can be a cunt sometimes, but a cunt with a heart of gold. She's too nice to say I told you so even when Camila really, really deserves it. Instead, she just offers to drive Camila home, because she really is a good friend.
She stays in the dressing room while Camila packs up her stuff, holds her hand as they go down the stairs. She whispers I'm sorry to Camila as they pass House of Hernandez's front double doors, even though she has nothing to be sorry for. Camila thinks half-hysterically that Normani might be the only other person in the world who could understand how this felt right now. But it's Lauren. Everyone who meets her probably falls in love with her, Camila's thought that a million times. She's not special. Just another sucker who fell for her.
Oh, and it hurts. Heartache - it hurts so bad.
It's tremendous insult to tremendous injury when she and Normani are walking out to the parking lot, to Normani's car, where Dinah is sitting and waiting, and Lucy and Lauren are already out there by Lucy's car. Neither of them pay any mind to Normani and Camila as they cross the parking lot. At this point Camila isn't sure what she expected. Everything was right there in front of her. Her feelings for Lauren - they made her crazy, they made her blind.
There was never anything there at all. And it is this thought, this realization, as it hits Camila like a freight train while she is frozen with one hand on Normani's car door, staring at the girl she loves, that finally makes her start to cry.
Unrequited love is a bitch, she thinks fiercely, wiping the tears away from her face. The fact that unrequited love, that horrible, desperate thing, is the term she's using to admit what she feels for Lauren is making her cry even more. And she hates to cry like this, hates that she spun herself into such a romantic fantasy with Lauren when she should've known the other girl never would've reciprocated. She made it all up in her head. The intimate touches, the words, the time they spent curled up in bed together, her arms encircled around Lauren's waist - Camila saw what she wanted to see and ignored the clear fact that despite her overly affectionate ways Lauren does not and will never feel the same way.
It hurts. Camila feels pathetic for how her throat seems like it's closing, how her pain sits high in her chest like it's threatening to choke her - she hates that her stupid crush - her stupid feelings- her stupid love, her stupid something for Lauren has sent her spiraling this way. She's usually so level-headed, so in control. She hates that she let it get this far.
Lauren is laughing, nuzzling into Lucy's neck, letting Lucy kiss her lips. Her face is open and relaxed, flushed and happy, and she looks like she's never felt more joy. She's so carefree as Lucy guides her towards her car, her dark ponytail swinging, skipping across the parking lot. She's laughing loud in that wheezy way of hers when she can't contain herself, and Lucy has this self-satisfied grin on her face, pleased she's made Lauren laugh. The two of them, illuminated by the almost sickly buzzing blue streetlights, carving out a little bubble for themselves, so enthralled with each other. Lucy tickles Lauren's sides, presses her against the car and kisses her. Lauren lifts a leg up around Lucy's waist, pulling her hands through Lucy's hair, settling at the nape of her neck just like she does when she's hugging Camila, or they're curled up in her bed together.
So fucking charming. Dizzily, Camila rests her weight on Normani's passenger door. It's one thing to hear about it, to hear Lauren gloating about her sexual escapades and joking about how Lucy only uses her for sex. It's another to see them like this, romantic and lovestruck, and Lauren pulling all the same moves she always does, laughing and bubbly and fingers sliding along Lucy's arm. Camila wonders if Lucy feels the sparks, too. She must.
Camila tortures herself as she watches them. She imagines how Lauren must talk to Lucy, in the way she talks to Camila, talks to everyone. Baby, you're so perfect, so pretty, so gorgeous. I love you. Lauren's hot breath in her ear. Love you, love you, love you. I'd die to fuck you. Die to be with you. You and me, baby, we were written in the stars. Cosmic fate. We're soulmates. Flirty, over-the-top, those huge irresistible green eyes, looking so sincerely at you, like this time you might be the one who's special to her. Camila had been stupid enough to fall for it. To fall for her.
She hates Lauren, just a little bit. She hates herself a lot more.
-
She writes a song, later that night. It's a rough cut, unedited and sloppy and sad, and she'd pluck out the melody she has in her head on her guitar if she wasn't scared it would wake up her roommates.
It's about love, even though maybe she's stupid and young and naïve and doesn't even know what that word means. She hates putting weight behind that word, hates to think about what it really means. But the song is about love, and she stares at the lyrics after she writes them, at the scribbled, half-legible writing that barely even looks like her own.
She wants to cry, but again - roommates. Hey, she's considerate. She'll let her heartbreak happen in silence.
-
so.... yeah
take a shot every time lauren and camila say they love each other.... but it's just Platonic
i'm not saying this fic is like a play that's split up into different "acts".... but if it was..... then this would be the end of the first act. there's still a whole lot in store, believe me ;)
but anyway vote and comment and tell me what you thought!!! see you next time <33