#and when they giv him a little cat familiar ? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawbebyjam · 4 years

Text

@arissayoo, hey!!! it’s ur atiny christmas angel!!!!!!!! i thought that since you’d be getting to open a bunch of presents earlier in the day, i’d give you your gift a little later. recency effect, you feel? (definitely not a product of my procrastination, no maam, not here. we do not know that word.) i’m gonna be honest—this isn’t my best work. but i tried to write out something that you might like, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize for it not being too sappy or holiday-themed 🥺; i felt like that friendly, comfortable feeling was what worked best. please let me know if you’d like any changes! i hope the rest of your holidays go wonderfully~ (also, your pets are adORABLE oh my goodness…pls giv nala an extra kiss for me….)

LIL PLAYLIST!! 맘 편히 (comfortable). G2 ft. GRAY & Simon Dominic // dancing like butterfly wings. ATEEZ // i swear i’ll never leave again. keshi // LOVE?. ELO & PENOMECO ft. GRAY // she likes spring, i prefer winter. slchld // sims. Lauv // stay with me. ayokay ft. Jeremy Zucker

“I’m so sorry about this,” Yeosang says for the fourth time that minute. “I totally forgot what day it was. I was planning on getting my license before I moved out, but—“

Sira grins, nudging his shoulder with hers as she grabs her keys.

“Don’t worry about. What would I be doing otherwise? Road trips are fun.”

Yeosang glances between her and the garage of luggage on his left, opens his mouth to say something, but then turns back to the luggage to gape for a moment.

When he’s done with that, he looks at her again, eyebrows furrowing. He has somehow managed to look even more apologetic, and Sira lets out a breath that’s stuck somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“It’s okay, Yeo. I’m serious. I’m glad you’re with me and not some random moving dude who you wouldn’t even feel comfortable telling the address.”

“I would be totally —“ he starts, but after a second thought, goes silent. When he speaks again, he sounds solemn. “I would be totally screwed. Damn.”

Sira grins, dragging a few boxes over to the trunk, and Yeosang piles the rest into the back seats.

Once they’ve settled in, Yeosang having thanked her another five times, and Sira having asked him to connect his phone to the stereo in a futile attempt to calm his nerves, they finally start the drive to his new house.

That is, until Sira asks if they locked the door and Yeosang notes that their lunch is sitting on the patio floor. Neither of them realize the garage is open until they’re backing into it again without moving a finger. Then Sira heads in to lock the door and registers that the door isn’t just unlocked – it’s wide open.

She reminds herself to check in on Yeosang’s new place at least three times before every other trip. And to remind the other boys to remember to check in on him a lot. And then realizes she’s standing in front of the door, still open, muttering to herself. She shakes her head, widens and then shuts her eyes, then takes a breath and shuts the door.

Yeosang is grinning at her from outside the patio when she looks up, keys on a finger as he steps up beside his old shoe-rack.

“You forgot the keys.”

Sira blinks blankly as he slips past her and locks the door, then lets out a slow exhale and waves at the door.

“Bye, bud.”

She squints, head tilting the slightest bit, lips apart.

“Are you trying to be cute, or are you really gonna do that every time you move?”

Yeosang feigns a sad look, pouting, puppy-eyed, the whole lot, as he heads out the door (forgetting lunch again, Sira notes with a fond grin, grabbing it herself) and he pats the door as it shuts behind them.

“I’m really gonna miss the house. I did all my dumb university stuff here. Like use tuition savings on drones. And then play with the drones instead of studying.”

Sira clicks her tongue, buckling back into the car as he shuts the garage.

“And decide to move out on Christmas eve?”

Yeosang whines, pout back on his lips as he grabs a seat.

“I said I’m sorry. I thought it was November.”

Sira sighs, then nods, lips parting slightly as she backs out again.

“No worries. It’s also why everyone’s getting their gifts late, and why I’m gonna be on the road instead of staring at my beautifully decorated Christmas tree with my even more beautiful babies.”

“I’m sure the cats will be fine for a day.”

“You're forgetting Nala?"

"Not forgetting," he notes, smiling softly. "We both know she already misses you like hell, and we're just getting on the freeway now."

"Well that's reassuring."

He doesn't answer, just looking out the window, but a minute later, he’s slouching again.

“I really am sorry.”

Sira glances between him and the road, eyes flitting around before she declares,

“Every ‘sorry’ equals one episode of Goblin you have to sit and watch with me.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows furrow, head lilting to one side.

“Every sorry is an hour of time? That’s a little—“

“Your sorries are worth less than an hour of your time?”

“Well, no, but Goblin is bo—“

“Stop right there for your safety, Yeo.” When Yeosang looks up and notices the way Sira is trying to glare at him, then the road, then the rearview mirror, and then him again, he struggles to keep from giggling, but breaks off the sentence all the same. He can see a mirroring grin slip onto her lips too, but he pretends her facade's functional.

“Sorry,” he says, and then his eyes widen. Sira stifles a laugh herself, and in a matter of seconds, they’ve both dissolved into fits of laughter.

The rest of the ride goes quick, with Yeosang ricocheting through topics—calling to mind all the new songs he wants to show her, asking random questions about car insurance, and even trying to budget video game money. Sira drives, he talks, Sira listens, and then, somehow, they’re there.

It takes them a few hours to unpack, so despite their attempt at an early departure, by the time the apartment rooms are livable, the sun is setting. Yeosang hasn’t bought balcony chairs yet, so they sit on the balcony floor, clad in parkas and toques, and they keep talking.

When the sun falls past the horizon, Yeosang can see the way Sira stops halfway through sentences, blankly blinking before her earlier topic returns to her, and suggests they head inside—so they do.

Sira’s filter starts waning around then, and she declares, walking into the mostly empty living room, “This isn’t Christmas eve.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow, and a half-grin rises onto his lips instantaneously. “Really? That’s great news for me. I’m about…” he trails off, pretending to count off something on his fingers. “8 presents behind.”

Sira shakes her head, laughing as she starts scrimmaging through boxes. “You need lights and stuff. Do you have any in here?”

Yeosang hums in thought before shaking his head, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“That’s three episodes so far.” Yeosang tsks, feigning a frown, but he can’t help dropping it for a grin when he sees the way Sira’s smile grows every time he slips up.

“Sorry. That was my bad. Sorry about that.”

She knows he’s messing around, so she stops counting, grabbing her phone and humming in thought.

“We can just watch the whole thing together, since you seem to love it so much all of a sudden. Anyways, it’s late. ‘m tired. Are the pillows in the car?”

Yeosang shakes his head, opening up a few boxes. “There’s some over here, with the blankets. Are two okay? Just one each?”

She nods and he drags over the box, grinning as he pulls them out. “My mom got these before I moved out.”

Sira’s fatigue is fairly visible at this point in the way she nods, pulling a pillow under her head and looking up at Yeosang with a slow-mo smile. Her blinks are slow, but her gaze lingers, steady, around his eyes.

“Mhm. Cute. Real—” a yawn.”—really cute. ‘m gonna sleep. Merry Christmas.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows shoot up, and he’s about to offer her some hot chocolate before he remembers he hasn’t bought a new microwave yet. He decides to just set the blanket over her, mutters a ‘merry Christmas’ back, and tries to keep from looking over at her too much.

It proves more difficult than he thinks – she takes her glasses off before sleeping most of the time, setting them aside neatly, but at the moment, they’re halfway down her cheek, sliding steadily. It's ... cute. He tries to pull them off as gently as possible but she groans and turns over anyhow. Setting them on a box, he grins back over at her before remembering again that she’s asleep and flushing, turning away to grab himself a pillow.

He's giving into temptation within the next minute — setting his pillow beside hers, sliding an arm under it, and letting his cheek rest on the pillow so they’re facing each other.

She looks so cute. He muses, still smiling. He feels dorky, but he doesn’t let himself worry about it too much, preoccupied. Really cute.

After some more silent contemplation, he decides that the jeans he’s in are pretty uncomfortable after his eyes flicker open with every movement around them, and decides to change into what he hopes Sira will accept as holiday-enough.

When he’s back after rummaging through his suitcase and then trying to find a laundry hamper, Yeosang slides onto the floor next to her. A hint of a smile sneaks past his lips and he mumbles,

“Thank you.”

There’s no answer – though it isn’t as if he’s expecting one. His smile only grows in the silence, and he finds his cheeks are warm again. He sets his elbow on the floor, cheek in hand, humming a familiar, unidentifiable tune under his breath. His eyes glide across Sira’s eyes, nose, mouth, hair, and then flutter shut. He grins sheepishly to himself when he finally works out a present he can get her in time for Christmas.

He doesn’t sleep too well, though, after his mind wanders through the different ways to share his feelings, and uses none in the end, but the embarrassed kiss he earns for his groggy confession is more than enough validation for him.

#merry christmas!!!#sorry this is late :[#n for not having been the best of anons :[#ur a super cool person tho n my inbox is always open if you need me!!!!!!#atiny christmas angel #hope u like it aaaa

6 notes · View notes

pjbehindthesun · 7 years

Text

chapter 2: the tick, the duck, and the cat

Sat, June 9th, 1990

“…hey, are you locked out?” a hesitant voice travels down the dim hallway of my floor. How long have I been standing here, staring vacantly at my own front door? Long enough to raise the suspicion of a well-meaning neighbor, at least. I can’t see his face from here, but the voice and the outline are enough to identify him as the guy in #46.

“Oh, uh, no…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” That’s a lie, but I’m not about to explain the truth to 46, so I wave awkwardly at him as I key into my apartment. I’m not really one for getting to know my neighbors anyway, except for Lucy, and I’ll tell her about it tomorrow, maybe. The truth is I’ve been standing out here and mentally kicking myself in the ass for picking this pointless fight with Alex. It really wasn’t fair of me. He was never going to go. He would have hated the whole day, and he definitely would have hated Chris. There’s no way I would have enjoyed such a nice conversation with that charming near-arsonist if I’d been shepherding poor, grumbling Alex through the woods. So maybe the whole fight was a win-win in disguise. Hey, look, I found a silver lining. Gotta remember to tell Lucy, she’ll be so proud.

The apartment is dark and quiet, and the clock on the VCR tells me it’s 11:24. Can’t blame him for not waiting up. I leave my muddy hiking boots on the towel by the door and make my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The bedroom’s dark too. The lanky heap of boyfriend seems not to have woken up, so I pad across the rug and slip under the quilt behind him.

“You’re home,” he slurs.

“Mm-hmm, sorry I woke you.” I snuggle a little closer to the familiar curve of his body, finding my place and pressing kisses onto his back. “Hey listen, about today –”

“Forget it.”

“Forget it?”

“Yeah. It’s fine babe, forget about it.” He turns over and props himself up on one elbow, and I can just make out the outline of his face but not his expression.

“You sure? You’re not still mad?”

“Nah.” He brushes my arm with the back of his hand.

I cock an eyebrow, not that he can see in this darkness. “'Nah’? Seriously, that’s it, ‘nah’?”

“What, you’d prefer another fight?”

“No, no… I just… I figured you would still be mad, that’s all…” I mean I’m not going to complain about the lack of the usual silent treatment, but… “what’d you get up to tonight?”

“Oh, went over to Brian’s for a while, hung out with him and the guys from work. Usual stuff.”

“Oh good! So one of these days I’m actually going to get to meet these guys, yes?” I give him a gentle shove in the chest.

“Oh yeah, definitely, definitely. So did you have fun?”

“I mean, yeah, of course. It was a gorgeous day for it.” I venture a peck on his lips, but he dodges and wrinkles his nose. “Wha -”

“Ugh, gross Cora, you smell like moss. How do I know you’re not all covered in ticks and shit?”

Okay, now I know you’re over it, you adorable asshole. “I swear on a stack of Bibles, I am not all covered in ticks and shit,” I struggle to keep a straight face.

“Your Bible pledge is worthless and you know it, you heathen,” he glowers, “and that, right there, that looks like a tick…” he stabs at a spot on my shoulder with his finger. “Hmmph. Freckle.”

“Okay. Stack of textbooks, then. Tick-free zone.”

“What about this one?”

He prods a couple more freckles, muttering to himself, occasionally glancing disapprovingly at me as I barely manage not to crack up. Soon his search moves down across my chest, and his head disappears under the blanket.

“And you expect to identify arachnids under cover of darkness how, exactly?” I giggle as his pokes tickle my belly.

“You’re right. Better switch investigation methods.” He starts kissing a line down my stomach, across my hip, down my thigh, and suddenly I can’t remember what we fought about or why…

*** Sun, June 10th, 1990

Definitely this dress for work tomorrow, the light gray one. It’s still totally professional, but it hits in all the right places, and Jake… Jake’s been stopping by my desk a lot more lately, even though the main billing desk in the hospital is nowhere near his rounds. I almost had the courage to form actual words last week when he brought me a coffee and asked me how I was doing. Maybe this dress will help me feel ever-so-slightly less pathetic and actually answer him if he tries again? Maybe?

Fuck, is this really the only light-colored piece of laundry in the entire apartment? Really? I have to do an entire load of laundry just to feel confident enough to finally talk to Jake tomorrow? Fuck that, I won’t accept defeat, I’m calling upstairs.

“Hello?”

“Hey lady! How was the hike?”

“Lucy! You’re not going to believe what happened, you’re gonna freak out.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“I should make you guess…” the mischief on Cora’s face is thick enough to be heard through the phone line, so whatever it is, it’s good.

“Haha oh fuck you… hey before I forget, do you have any white laundry that needs washing? I was gonna run some but I don’t have enough to justify sacrificing quarters.”

“Uhm, let me check…” I hear her rummaging around. “Yeah, actually, I could scrounge up some stuff, between me and Alex. Thanks!”

“Okay, I’ll be right up, I’ll try to come up with some good guesses on my way.”

I grab my laundry basket, tossing my keys and coin purse in, and head out the door and up the stairs to Cora’s. Okay, what happened to her in the woods? Did she… find magic mushrooms and trip her brains out? meet and outrun the Green River killer? somehow convince Alex to go hiking with her this time? Honestly, the first two are more plausible…

“Oof! Hey, easy –” I hear a man’s voice say, presumably belonging to the person I just slammed into at the top of the stairwell while I was totally lost in thought. I send my laundry flying in my futile effort not to tumble back down the stairs, but I can feel myself falling back over the top step in slow motion – fuuuuck… so this is how it ends, at the tender age of 23, scrambling like Wile. E. fucking Coyote over a cliff’s edge – when a hand grabs hold of my arm and snaps me back into the hallway.

“Close one! You okay?”

I look up in the direction of the question and see a scruffy blonde guy, much taller than me, still holding my arm with one hand and a basketball with the other, standing amid a mountain of laundry and wearing my tiniest pink gym shorts draped over his head like a headscarf and a pair of bright green panties on his shoulder. I officially wish I’d fallen to my death.

“Yes! I’m okay! I’m okay, thank you… uh, I think those are mine” I stammer as I reach out to grab my stuff, but he’s faster. He lets go of my arm to pull my laundry off with a chuckle, tossing it into my basket and then straightening the bandana he has holding back his long hair.

“Yeah, lime green’s just not my color,” he says with a little laugh. Okay, so now that my shorts are off his face I can see that he’s completely gorgeous too, and my humiliation is complete. I can feel myself blushing madly. I try for some words, but all that comes out of my mouth is a crazy-sounding and high-pitched giggle. I busy myself with re-filling my laundry basket to avoid looking at him, and he stoops down to help.

“What’s your name?”

Underwear Guy is asking you a question. Think. THINK DAMN IT. What is your name?

I squeak out, “L … Lucy. Lucy Rosenfelder.” Oh good, actual human speech is returning.

“Well, that makes me Jeff. Ament. Number 46.” He points his thumb back over his head in the direction I was originally going, before our collision. “You live on this floor too? Don’t think I’ve seen you.”

“No, I live downstairs, third floor, I was just visiting my friend down that way –”

“And doing their laundry? Man, I’ve gotta have a talk with my friends, bunch of useless fucks.” He grins as he gently tosses my plastic rubber ducky coin purse back into the basket. God why do I have to be such a child? All of my possessions have decided to embarrass me today. They must be unionized.

“Ha – no, just throwing a couple things in together. Friends don’t let friends waste laundry quarters, right?” god why do you have to be such a dork? stop talking stop talking stop talking he must think you’re a total loser.

But he smiles at me again. It’s a really good smile. It’s warm and easy and wholesome in an all-American sort of way, but his eyes gleam with trouble. Somehow all the jitters vanish when he’s smiling at me.

“Ooh, so you’re a responsible type,” he teases, “just say no… to half-empty washing machines! Well, I think we got all of it, unless I’m wearing a rogue bra in my hair or something…” he combs his long hair with his fingers, and the flush creeps back up my face.

“SoJeffwhatdoyoudo?” Please talk about anything but my underwear.

“Oh, I work over at the Raison d’Etre, you know, the cafe? Living the dream.”

“Hah, aren’t we all.”

“And your dream would be…?”

“Well, it’s definitely not medical billing. And yet.”

“And yet.” he chuckles, smiling that warm, knowing smile at me again. His eyes are this amazing gray-blue, like a veil of rain I want to run right into. I scramble for something to say so I don’t stare too long and make him think I’m a total weirdo.

“So, uh, if the dream isn’t espresso, then what is it?”

He looks down at his basketball and fidgets with it a little. “Uh, well I play bass, but, I think –” he turns around at the sound of a door opening behind him.

“Luce? Is that you out there? Did you get lost??” Cora laughs, before noticing Jeff. “Oh, uh, sorry to interrupt…” she grins wickedly and disappears back inside.

Jeff turns back to me with a sly smile and clucks his tongue. “Cinderelly, Cinderelly… better let you get back to those chores…” there’s a little gravel in his voice every now and again, just the smallest rough scrape when he trails off, and it makes me want to lean a little closer every time I hear it.

“Jeff, it was nice to meet you, and, uh, thanks for saving my neck…” I hold out my hand awkwardly and he takes it in his to give it a shake. Big hands, warm and calloused. I’m in no hurry to let go, and it seems he isn’t either.

“Anytime, Lucy. It’s, uh, it’s a nice neck.” He cocks an eyebrow and before I can get my bearings, he’s off down the stairs. How is it possible I’ve never noticed this guy all the time he’s been Cora’s neighbor? Oh, right, Cora…

She had left the door ajar for me, so I walk in without knocking and see the usual scene: Cora sitting at the kitchen table behind a mountain of books, Alex on the couch with his hands fused to a Nintendo controller. He calls “hey Luce” without even glancing up from the screen, but Cora’s trying (and failing) to hide her smile behind a wall of red hair as she feigns maximum interest in her beaten-up copy of Advanced Soil Mechanics.

“Oh hey Lucy!” she’s going for a surprised look but she sucks at lying. “Make a new friend out there?”

“Just getting to know your neighbor, you should try it sometime,” I sneer back, dropping my laundry basket and heading for the fridge to steal a beer.

“Who, the blonde guy? Ugh, tell him to fuck off with his fucking music, would you? Do you have any idea what it’s like to try to work with Dee Dee fucking Ramone down the hall?” The lump on the couch chimes in.

Cora bites her lip and nods dutifully in agreement with Alex, not that he notices, but stands up to grab a beer with me in the kitchen and whispers, “well, I mean, I actually like the soundtrack…”

“The view’s not bad either, you ever met the guy?” I reply in a conspiratorial whisper, Underwear Guy’s eyes still swimming in my head.

Cora shakes her head quickly with a significant glance at the back of Alex’s head. “Hey let’s get you that laundry,” she says, and she’s pulling me down the hallway.

Once we’re in their room with the door shut, I pounce onto her bed and take a sip of beer while she rummages through the hamper.

“Hey, sorry, I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble…”

“Oh no it’s fine, he’d just be an asshole about it.” She shrugs it off, but fuck if she’s not right. “So? Tell me everything?” she grins expectantly at me, obviously trying to change the subject, so I fill her in on my encounter with Jeff.

“Hahahaha oh my god Lucy, it figures that would happen to you!”

“Ugh, shut up, why?”

“Shyest girl I know, literally throwing her panties at a musician?” her grin is pure evil, and she dodges as I toss a pillow at her head. “So on a scale of one to kill-me-now, how embarrassed were you?”

“I wanted to throw myself back down the fucking stairs!”

“Oh, come on,” she parks on the bed and nudges me, “I bet it was fine, you guys looked like you were having a nice talk when I saw you, no underwear anywhere.”

“By then I’d collected it all, it was only my self-respect I lost.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Lucy. You’re gorgeous and I bet he didn’t mind one bit. Didn’t look like he was suffering when I saw you…”

“Well, he was a gentleman about it. You really haven’t ever talked to him? He’s so nice.”

She’s grinning at me with amusement in her eyes. “Not much, no, just in passing. Like last night he said hi as I was keying into the apartment.”

“Oh yeah! So what will I not believe about this hike of yours? Alex didn’t actually go, did he?”

“No, come on, of course he didn’t. We fought about it” – uh huh, and water is wet and bears shit in the woods – “but it’s probably for the best he didn’t come with me.”

“Why?”

As she tells me the whole story, I can see why she’s glad Alex stayed home. He’s a jealous prick on a good day, I can’t imagine him tagging along for that encounter.

“So did we get you enough laundry? What did you so desperately need to wash anyway? All your stuff’s bright colors…” she roots through my laundry basket… “ah hah! The Jake Dress!” she holds it up, looking as triumphant as a cat who’s caught the fattest mouse.

“It is NOT the Jake dress!” I try to snatch it out of her hands but she bounds off the bed and waves it at me. “I mean, okay…” to be honest, until she mentioned him I had totally forgotten about Jake, Jake who?

“I knew it. You’re so cute. Own up to it, Luce, you look super hot in this dress! I bet Dr. Hottie thinks so too.”

“Ugh, well first of all don’t call him that” – I swat at her head and she ducks – “and secondly it’s the only thing I own that doesn’t make me look like a beanpole, you’re lucky you’re short.”

“You’re insane, you know that? You’re literally the classic American girl next door. I’m sure Jeff thought so and I know Dr. Hott–” I give her my best death glare “– I mean Jake agrees, why else does he loiter at your desk to flirt with you all the time?” she trails off with Cheshire Cat mirth spreading across her face.

After we make plans for our next movie night, I collect the laundry and wave goodbye to Alex, who mumbles “seeya Luce” on my way out the door. Once I close the door to #41 behind me, I can’t help but glance down at #46. I know he’s not home now, but I wonder when he’ll get back. I wonder if he’s wondering about me too.

#behind the sun #chapter 2 #jeff ament #chris cornell #pearl jam #soundgarden #fanfiction #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

5hfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Blame It On Bad Luck - Chapter 24

There was an odd sense of familiarity and comfort sitting in Lauren’s car with her. Camila would have assumed it to be much more difficult than it was to fall back into a sort of routine with the raven haired girl but she quickly discovered coming back home was nothing short of unremarkable. It was like she had never left.

At least on her end, anyway. Camila was never accustomed to feeling she quite fit in anywhere she inhabited. And, okay, Dinah’s place while more often than not a touch overcrowded was something close to a second home but it would always remain just that; a second home without even having a first.

Lauren was unwelcoming when she first moved in and there was no other way to describe it. She had made it perfectly clear that Camila was not only unwanted but also an unfathomable burden raining down on her life at the most inconvenient of times as if she had planned it out specifically to spite her. She didn’t belong there and she was going to make sure she was painfully aware of it.

Perhaps it was more subtle than she realized. Because even looking back on the few months living together she couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment in the given time frame where things began to change or when Lauren softened around the edges—so to speak��and put an end to her seemingly never ending crusade to drive her out of there for good.

She didn’t know when Lauren started to be more aware of their living situation, aware of the fact that she wasn’t alone anymore, aware of the fact that she was starting to enjoy her company rather than resent it.

And she couldn’t figure it out either. She couldn’t figure out why certain things started to matter or when. But they both knew that it worked. It worked because somehow they did. It was easy, like they’d lived together for years and it was all of a sudden strange if they didn’t.

Camila pondered this, thought of their weird little home they’d inadvertently made by themselves in such a short span of time, as she watched Lauren drive them away from the record store and to the supermarket nearby to do something as menial and domestic as grocery shopping together.

And it was weirdly content despite everything that had transpired.

Lauren was quiet, uncharacteristically so. She had been ever since Camila walked in through the door with the sole purpose of making sure their overweight cat didn’t starve and nothing else. And if it weren’t for Camila’s countless attempts at conversation, she wouldn’t speak at all.

“I talked to Steve by the way,” was the first thing she had said to the green eyed girl that actually piqued her interest.

“Who?”

“My manager. He wants to meet you sometime this week, if you’re still interested.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. So just stop in whenever, chat him up, kiss some ass…you know, give him the ol’ razzle dazzle,” she said cheerfully, purposefully, eying her roommate through her peripheral for any hint that she was struggling to contain some snarky insult or even just a swift roll of her eyes.

“Um…okay.” Her voice was controlled, her tone calculated, and she kept her gaze on the road with both hands on the steering wheel giving no indication that she even actually heard what Camila had said. She nodded, going along with whatever nonsense she was spewing. “That sounds good.”

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing, you’re just…” she started, the questions and curiosity boiling and burning the tip of her tongue. But she held it, sighed, and shook her head. “Nothing, never mind.”

It was silent again and Camila figured she should probably just get used to it, as weird as it was to come to that realization even only after having spent one day back home with the other girl. She didn’t understand it but felt it was better to just leave it alone.

They wandered through the aisles of the market in an anticipated silence not quite as uncomfortable as the car ride there. Camila found that while she would look over most items, actually selecting things to toss into their cart, Lauren only followed, not really giving anything a second glance, and kept her hands in her pockets and her mouth shut.

“Do you prefer white or whole wheat bread?” she asked randomly, causing green eyes to finally meet brown since they set foot in the market.

“Whatever you want is fine,” she mumbled with as much nonchalance as she could muster. And it worked, for the last dozen items or so at least, as she blindly agreed to Camila’s preference for quite literally everything.

“Lauren, just pick one. You’ve said that for all the stuff we got so far.”

“It’s really not a big deal. I’ll eat whatever.”

“Really, if I bought nothing but, like, cow tongues and pig asshole would you eat that?”

“Do they sell pig asshole? How would that work?”

“Lauren…not the point.”

“I’m just saying.”

“We’re roommates, we don’t have to eat the same things you know.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted for what felt like the hundredth time since they set foot out of the car and into the store. Camila gripped the handle of their cart until her knuckles turned white. “Just get whatever you want.”

“I’m going to scream,” she mumbled under her breath, tossing a loaf of sliced white bread in with the rest of their items, pushing the cart down the aisle in search of sugar. She didn’t know how long she could be yessed to death before she would start to pull her hair out. She pursed her lips and stopped walking. “Can you grab that for me?”

“Of course.” And as expected, without a second thought, she bent down to get the bag of sugar that Camila was more than capable of getting herself while she watched curiously, her eyebrow raised though going completely amiss by the raven haired girl as she placed the sugar in the cart.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

And it was a split second—this moment that she would have missed if she had just blinked her eyes a moment sooner—where the corners of Lauren’s lips curved up in what appeared to be the most genuine form of emotion she had shown all day. And it was over as quickly as it had appeared.

“What do you feel like having for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know. Anything, really; it doesn’t matter.”

“Right, you’ll eat anything, including pig asshole,” she said as they turned the corner and headed for the produce. She heard her huff not too far behind her.

“I never said I would, I was just saying that-”

“Relax, Lauren, I’m just joking with you.” She placed her hand gently on her arm, her touch warmer and far more comforting than she would bring herself to admit out loud to the brunette. “Lighten up, will you?”

“I am…light. I just-” she began but stopped rather abruptly. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Camila asked, brows furrowed almost instantaneously in concern at the tense posture and slightly wide eyes of her disturbed roommate. Before she could ask any other questions she felt her hands grab her by the arm and yank her, quite forcefully, behind one of the many fruit stands.

“Fuck,” she muttered, still holding onto Camila entirely too tightly. She peeked her head out, looking behind the stand and quickly moved back, her eyes squeezed shut tightly and her breathing noticeably more erratic.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she kept muttering to herself as Camila tried to turn to see what it was that Lauren was looking out for, what caused her to nearly hyperventilate crouched down on the supermarket floor behind a small mountain of tangerines. “We need to leave.”

“We…what? Why? Who’s here?”

“Brad.”

His name fell from her lips in one rushed syllable, like her body was physically rejecting his name, leaving a cold and bitter taste in its wake. Camila blinked, not making any sense of it until the name rang somewhat familiar and the panicked, semi-nauseous look on her roommate’s face suddenly seemed completely justified.

“Are you sure?”

“I haven’t seen him since high school but yes, Camila, I am sure.”

“Um…okay, just…hang on one sec,” she instructed the raven haired girl who gave no indication that she was anywhere near ready to move back into plain sight and instead remained crouched behind the fruit, trying to take deep breaths through her nose. Camila rose from where they were, feeling Lauren’s grip finally loosen and disappear altogether as she scanned the produce aisle for the vaguely familiar face. “I don’t see him,” she whispered.

“By the bags of salads,” she told her, her eyes glued to the floor. And sure enough, Camila spotted the boy wearing a worn out leather jacket, his brown locks slightly unkempt and lazily stuffed beneath a grey beanie, examining the quality of two bags of baby spinach oblivious to the two roommates on the other side of the produce section.

It was a weird sensation, seeing her roommate’s ex-boyfriend strolling casually through the supermarket knowing just how much damage he had done to the girl still crouched by her leg, unbeknownst to him—along with the pain and suffering he had caused. Camila felt angry and absurdly protective as she involuntarily moved to stand closer to Lauren, keeping her behind her and out of sight.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t see you.” Lauren didn’t respond and just kept staring down, feeling her heart race erratically within the confines of her chest as she tried to swallow past every bit of dryness in her throat. She only snapped out of it when she felt someone’s hand tapping her shoulder. “Okay, he’s gone.”

She didn’t bring her eyes to meet Camila’s although she could feel the weight of her gaze on her heavily—intense yet still so gentle and cautious, just waiting. And although she hated to admit that the mere sight of the father of her child still sent her into a state of absolute dread and anxiety she knew she didn’t possess the willpower to even remotely hold it together.

“Hey, are you okay, Lauren?” she asked her softly when she didn’t say a word. Just blinked rapidly as the corners of her eyes burned angrily until her vision was clouded and she was standing upright, making a beeline to the exit, not giving Camila a second glance or even a moment to get a good look at just how much she seemed to be losing it.

She sighed sadly at the sight of her roommate leaving the supermarket, hoping she would be able to somehow calm herself down and hoping even more that she wouldn’t run into him elsewhere. She stared at the exit for another moment or so before resuming her shopping, a little more quickly than before, ready to get out of there as fast as she could and find Lauren.

She was perched on the curb with a cigarette between her fingertips, almost burnt to the end, when Camila made it back to the car trying to carry all the bags. Without a word, Lauren tossed the butt of her cigarette and took most of the bags from her roommate to help put everything in the trunk of her car.

“Thanks,” she said gratefully to which the green eyed girl simply nodded wordlessly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” She slammed the trunk shut and they both sat in their respective seats in silence as neither of them really knew what to do or say.

“Look, Lauren. I can’t imagine what you went through with him and your daughter. It’s nothing you have to justify or feel bad about if you can’t handle seeing him. Nobody blames you,” she tried when Lauren made zero effort to talk. She heard the unsteady, sharp intake of breath and watched as she dragged her fingers through her dark tresses stubbornly. “You’re only human.”

“It’s been five years. And I still can’t even face him. God, you’d think after all this time especially, especially, after everything he did and said to me I wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he gives a shit. He gets to live his normal life.”

And it might have been what upset her more than she was letting on, at least that’s what Camila was getting a sense of. Because while Lauren was stuck with not only the backlash from all of their peers, but with all of the obligations and the consequences brought on from a decision they were both responsible for.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Lauren suffered multiple complications throughout her pregnancy, it wasn’t fair that she survived it all just to endure a painfully dragged out bout of postpartum depression, it wasn’t fair that her depression landed her at the hands of addiction just to feel normal, it wasn’t fair that her life spiraled out of control while walked around, day to day, and he was fine.

“Has he ever tried to contact you?” she asked carefully to her distressed roommate. “You know…after Kayla was born. Did he ever even try to see her?”

“No. He never asked about her. And that kills me. It’s not fair to her. My own daughter can’t have her father because he just doesn’t care. Not that I would ever let him fucking near her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do, Camz,” she said, her voice cracking a bit at the end. And Camila could tell she was trying desperately to not fall apart again in front of her. “How am I ever going to explain this to her?”

“She’s going to understand one day,” she offered, placing her hand on Lauren’s back, running it up and down slowly as she leaned forward with her forehead on the steering wheel. “It’ll all be okay. Okay? You can’t beat yourself for this every time it comes up.”

“I know,” she mumbled with tired eyes and she turned her head to look at the brunette beside her, her cheek pressed against the wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your emotions. You’re always allowed to feel them.”

She nodded before letting out a breath, finally realizing the soothing gesture. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and picked her head up, slightly flustered just as Camila retracted her hand, and buckled herself in.

“Come on,” she said, fastening her seatbelt as well while keeping her eyes on the raven haired girl. “It’s starting to get dark. Let’s go home. They were fresh out of pig asshole so I’ll make us tacos for dinner.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, pulling out of the parking spot. Camila grinned at the weak laugh she offered as she shook her head before glancing over at her. Her gentle smile turned unmistakably appreciative as she added, “Sounds good, Camz.”

“It’s just weird, Ally. I mean, I know I haven’t known her that long but I’ve never seen her like this,” Camila spoke into the phone she was trying her best to balance between her ear and her shoulder. She used the heel of her boot to shut her car door, adjusting the strap of her bag on her other shoulder. “I thought maybe she’d…snap out of it or something but it’s been a week.”

“I never thought you’d be complaining about Lauren…being too calm.”

“Well when you say it like that you make it sound so dumb.” She heard the shorter Latina’s laughter over the line while she tried to single out her mail key on the chain. “I don’t want to be all in her business because I mean…okay, yeah, we’re okay and she even started working and things seem fine but…”

“But?”

“I just don’t want to assume things are fine just because they seem fine. You know? Like, she’s been through a lot. You know better than anyone. Was she like this when…you know…” she trailed off awkwardly, upsetting herself with the direction of her sentence. She sighed and grabbed the mail before heading towards the stairs.

“Mila, I know what you’re worried about. I don’t blame you. But honestly? It really just sounds like she’s trying to, I don’t know, behave herself…for your sake.”

“Behave herself?” she asked, scrunching her brows. “Did she say something to you?”

“Not really. But I know how she is. Camila, she probably just doesn’t want you to leave again,” she told her as if it was obvious and Camila remained silent until she reached the sixth floor, taking in her words.

“Really?”

“From what you’re telling me. She’s been quiet with me too when I talk to her but I kind of expected that after everything. But she’s different with you than she is with me. Just try talking to her. It’s not like she can say no to you.”

“I…” she opened her mouth and then closed it shortly after, not even knowing how to respond. On one hand she knew Lauren was doing pretty much anything she asked—not that she asked for much—and it did seem like she was doing everything in her power to please her. But on the other, she was dealing with a lot and more often than not it was nearly impossible to tell what the girl was feeling or thinking. “I mean, kind of, I guess.”

“She’s been worse. You have no idea, like, so much wor-”

“Am I crazy for being this invested, Ally?” she asked randomly, cutting off her friend’s words. She sighed and readjusted her bag strap. “I mean…after everything. Am I stupid for caring?” She took a moment, staring down her hallway, before speaking again. “Sorry, that sounds really messed up; I know she’s your best friend and all, I just-”

“Mila, seriously, I get it. Don’t worry,” she reassured her before taking a brief pause. “You still like her, don’t you?” And the way she said it, it wasn’t even like she was questioning it. Just waiting for confirmation.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“She told me about the guitar. And while I want to kill her for being so thoughtless, and I know this might not mean much and it doesn’t make up for her doing what she did, but the last thing she wants is to hurt you.”

“How do you know?” she asked uncertainly. She knew Lauren’s intentions before and she knew them now—somewhat, anyway. She knew she wasn’t the same and she knew their relationship had completely changed over the few months they had known each other. But she also knew that Lauren was a riddle; this complicated mess of words the she could never figure out the rhyme or reason to.

“Because you make her happy,” she answered simply. “And she hasn’t been happy in a really long time.”

It was such a casual sentence, like it was the easiest thing to see. And Camila wondered how much truth there was to it, coming from someone like Ally—someone who knew Lauren better than anyone. She didn’t realize she was smiling until she made it to her door.

“Look, I know she’s a pain in the ass—which is probably why she’s being so weirdly quiet. Talk to her.”

“I’ll try,” she said, finding the right key to let herself in. The lights inside were on and the first thing she saw was Lauren sitting on the floor near her vinyl collection, sifting through them. Her smile involuntarily grew when her eyes landed on her furrowing her brows looking as confused as ever.

“Let me know how it goes. Like I said, she’s probably just nervous. Unless she’s like, crying into her wine listening to Fast Car then you probably don’t have anything to worry about,” she told her, causing the brunette to laugh. The sound caught Lauren’s attention, quickly looking back down at what she was doing when they locked eyes.

“Alright, I’ll talk you later.”

“Bye, Mila. Good luck with your wife,” she said and hung up the phone before Camila could react or even fully process what she said. She stared at the home screen of her phone with her mouth open.

“My…wha-” she stopped herself and shook her head, shoving her phone into her back pocket before tossing the few envelopes from the mailbox onto the table. When she looked up, Lauren was still busying herself with whatever it was she was doing before she walked in.

“Hey Camz,” she offered casually, not even looking up from the cabinet she was searching through.

“Hey.” She set the rest of her stuff down and walked over to the living room and Lauren didn’t even look up or lose that confused look on her face. “What’cha doin’?”

“Trying to find something,” she mumbled, thumbing through more of her vinyls before sighing and sitting back upright, pouting. “Have you seen my Tracy Chapman record?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she mumbled under her breath before crouching down next to the green eyed girl. “Hey, you want to go do something?” she asked randomly, finally grabbing the girl’s full attention.

“What?”

“I don’t know; you want to go out or something? Like, I mean, go somewhere…that’s…not here…and…yeah,” she stammered—rather ungracefully—shutting her eyes and suppressing a groan at herself and her stupidity.

“I don’t know, Camila…” she said quietly, focusing her attention back on her records before she felt the warmth of her roommate’s hands wrapping around her wrists, pulling her to stand with her.

“C’mon, it’s nice out. I had a long day. Let’s go to that frozen yogurt place by the boardwalk. I’ve been there with Dinah; it’s amazing,” she said while trying to sound as cheerful as possible, hoping some of it would somehow rub off on her roommate, who was looking at her skeptically. “My treat?”

“Oh, you…you don’t,” she faltered, looking down at her feet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be stupid, come on, let’s go,” she insisted, pulling her with her towards the door where both of their shoes were. When she let go she turned around and could have sworn she saw the other girl blushing but she wouldn’t look at her. “It’ll be fun. Let’s get the fuck out of this apartment.”

“Okay…yeah, okay,” she decided, sounding more like she was convincing herself than agreeing with Camila. “Sure. Let’s go. But you don’t have to pay. It’s fine, I can-”

“Lauren…”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

The drive there was spent how almost all of their days have been spent; an only somewhat awkward silence with most of the conversation being brought on by Camila while Lauren tripped over her words and looked anywhere but at the girl she was so completely enamored with no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

And despite Lauren’s numerous—albeit pathetic—attempts to refuse Camila’s generosity, the tiny brunette stuck true to her word and bought them both of their desserts before leading them to walk silently but comfortably along the boardwalk.

Camila couldn’t help but think that Ally might be right. Lauren couldn’t help but think about their date on the very same boardwalk. She thought about how much she wished it didn’t end as horribly as it did.

“Can I ask you something?” Camila started carefully. Almost as soon as the words left her lips she sensed the green eyed girl tensing up next to her.

“Um…sure.”

“What’s going on?”

“With what?”

“With you…” she said, nudging her side slightly, but both of them avoided looking at the other. “With us.”

“What?” she laughed nervously, shaking her head and keeping her eyes down on the cup she was holding. “Nothing…why? Nothing’s going on.” Her brows knitted together, heavy with worry—Camila could tell with only a glance. She sighed, deciding to bite the bullet, and touched her arm gently. They both stopped walking.

“You know I’m not still mad right?”

“You’re…you’re not?” She blinked and looked down again, seemingly debating something with herself—like she didn’t know if she should believe her, as if she hadn’t literally just said so. “But…”

“I was, don’t get me wrong, of course I was. But…I believe you weren’t trying to hurt me. I was upset but like, I’m not a hateful person, Lauren, you know that,” she explained. “I don’t have it in me to be angry like that, especially not forever.”

It was quiet again, minus the other people passing by them which were occasional and fairly infrequent. Lauren tried to come up with anything substantial to say—or literally anything at all, really—but with the way Camila was looking at her it was hard to think of any words.

When she figured Lauren wasn’t going to say anything she added, “Especially not with you.”

“Why?”

“Really, Lauren?” she asked, her expression morphing into amusement easily. “You’re really asking me that?”

It took her a moment, and then another to curse the streetlight they were standing under for giving away the slightly red tint in her cheeks as she averted her gaze to her hands, fidgeting with the plastic spoon.

They said nothing but continued walking, the air between them feeling a bit lighter, the silence comfortable, their smiles content.

“Tell me something,” Camila said randomly, breaking the quiet, as she moved her spoon around the frozen yogurt in her cup. “About you, I mean.”

“What?” Lauren replied, wiping her hand on her jeans. “You already know everything.”

“I do?”

“I-I really can’t think of anything else I could possibly be keeping from you. Like, I’m trying to-”

“No, Lauren, not like that,” she corrected, trying not to laugh at how easily flustered the other girl was getting again. “Just like…I don’t know, something I don’t know. Before everything.” She watched Lauren ponder the thought for a moment, plastic spoon in her mouth held tightly between her teeth before she released it and pursed her lips.

“Um…I don’t know, I wanted to be a vet when I was little,” she offered, staring down at her own cup.

“Did you really?”

“Yeah, like, I thought it would be cool…until I realized I had to deal with sick animals all day and was like, wow that’s so fucking sad, never mind.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“I guess,” she shrugged, taking another bite of her frozen yogurt. “Not like I’ll ever do that now.”

“Well…what do you want to do now?” It was a simple question, in theory. Both Camila and Lauren were aware everyone gets asked it. But Lauren…when it came down to it…she really had no idea.

“I don’t know.”

“Well aren’t you in school for business?”

“Yeah but like…I don’t know…I figured it’ll be useful no matter where I ended up. I really didn’t plan that far into my future, Camila.”

It wasn’t intentional—on either part. But Camila stopped walking and Lauren froze with her spoon in her mouth before awkwardly coughing and trailing ahead of the brunette, hoping she would just catch up with her.

Camila, sensing her roommate’s discomfort, picked up her pace and resumed their conversation like it hadn’t happened, something Lauren was extremely grateful for.

“What about now?”

“What?”

“What do you want now?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, trying to scoop up as much Cap’n Crunch into her strawberry frozen yogurt as she could gather. “Nothing, really.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, not nothing, but like,” she paused and finally looked up ahead of her—at the blackness of the ocean lining the boardwalk and the night sky before looking over at Camila for the first time since they started walking. “Just…nothing extraordinary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah like…okay, you know how you have this…set goal? You have a plan. You want to teach little kids…you want to make a difference in their lives growing up and that’s…amazing,” she said, looking back in front of her as they walked. Camila placed her spoon into her cup and stared up at the green eyed girl instead as she went on, admiring the candidness with which she spoke, recalling all the details of their conversations. “But I guess after everything all I want is…normal.”

“Normal?”

“Is that weird? That I would prefer the…ordinary nine to five boring ass job with my family and my kid? It would be so much better than anything I ever expected, that’s for sure. Extraordinary for you is normal. Normal for me is extraordinary.”

Camila let her words hang in the air between them as they walked, thought them over. And over and over. Watched as she averted her eyes once again. Watched as she tried to keep busy with her frozen yogurt, as if it wasn’t important to her. And she surprised Lauren, and even herself, by reaching for one of her hands and holding them in her own.

“I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

“Yeah?” she asked, and Camila felt no hesitation when she answered her.

“Yeah. I think you deserve normal after all this time.”

“I think my daughter deserves it after all this time.”

“I think you both do.”

And even in the dark of the night, Camila could make out Lauren’s smile, as subtle as it was. And Lauren could make out the sincerity in Camila’s words just as much as she could feel it in her gaze. She exhaled through her nose and kept her eyes cast down.

“Thanks, Camz,” she mumbled, ignoring the warmth rising in her cheeks once again, even more prominent in her chest. And the brunette beside her only smiled.

And when she offered a smile back, nudging her as they rounded an appropriate spot in the boardwalk, she felt like nothing had transpired between them before; no lies or hurt—just two people who genuinely cared about each other and it was hard for Lauren not to lean in and kiss her.

But the fact of the matter was just that. Everything that did happen between them happened. And she couldn’t just forget all that she did and all that she felt as a result of that, no matter how hard Camila tried to convince her it was behind them. Why would Camila ever still want anything with her after all of that?

Their conversation was light on the way back home. And it was fine. It was fine when they got back to their apartment. And it was fine the few days following after.

And it was fine until Camila was going to actually tear her hair out with how careful Lauren was still being around her and when she would talk to her—even if it was the most innocent of interactions.

She had to admit, it was endearing for a while—if she was in fact stifling, or behaving, herself for her sake thus far. But it just wasn’t Lauren. The whole quiet and distant, nervous bit wasn’t the green eyed girl she had grown such strong feelings for. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself she would get over her.

And maybe she would have actually convinced herself had she not spent all of her time with the raven haired flustered idiot for the remainder of the week until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Lauren was scrolling through different recommended shows Netflix was suggesting for her when Camila came home that day.

She had an exasperated sigh, matched by the force of her foot kicking the door shut when she carried all of her shit indoors before getting a chance to set everything down on the small dining room table. Lauren barely glanced over, mumbling a solemn hey before focusing her vision back to the television.

Camila rolled her eyes and, anticipating Lauren’s nonchalance, pulled a plastic water gun out of her bag and sprayed the green eyed girl until she stood up from the couch and groaned, “Okay, enough, get up.”

“Camz, what the fuck,” she yelled, standing immediately, trying to shield herself from the onslaught of water. “Stop!”

“Not until you stop being weird!”

“Ah!” she spit some water from her mouth. “What are you talking about?!”

“I'm talking about you being a damn weirdo with me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. And if you were anyone else you’d be the perfect roommate—probably someone I would have wanted to live with when I first moved in.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You’re not anyone else. You’re supposed to be my annoying roommate. It’s our thing, remember? You don’t get on my nerves anymore. You don’t insult me anymore. No one’s called me a loser in such a long time; honestly, I’m starting to think I might actually be cool.”

“You’re not,” Lauren mumbled without thinking and Camila’s lips curved into a slight smile.

“Then bug me,” she insisted playfully through gritted teeth, spraying her with more water.

“Where did you even get this?!”

“I confiscated it from a boy at school. Here,” she said, tossing a much smaller plastic water gun at the green eyed girl who just barely caught it. “This one’s been in the lost and found for ages. Consider yourself armed.”

“This is pathetic.”

“The weapon or the war I’m declaring right now?”

“Oh, the weapon, I’m gonna kill you if you don’t-” she yelled, shielding herself from the water as Camila aimed the gun at her again. “Camz! Stop!”

“Fight back!” she yelled dramatically. “You coward, fight back!” And as confused and annoyed as Lauren was she paused and laughed hysterically at her roommate.

She bit her lip and waited for any indication that this wasn’t actually happening and when Camila sprayed her with more water from her plastic gun she bolted off in the same direction as the laughing brunette into the hallway.

“Camz, I swear to God,” she yelled as she chased her roommate, not even caring how many of their neighbors they bothered along the way. Camila stopped at the end of the hall and tried to run around her—somewhat successfully—and dashed passed her arms just barely, only turning behind her to spray her with more water.

“Eat my dust.”

“You’re such a loser,” she called after her while running back to their apartment, making sure to close it behind her, the sound of Camila’s incessant giggling the only thing accompanying her yelling. “This isn’t even fair. You clearly have the better one.”

“Wow, it’s almost as if I did that on purpose.”

“Shut up.”

“Tough shit,” she shrugged carelessly. And instead of trying to spray her with the water again, Lauren just went ahead chucked the plastic gun at her. “Hey!”

“That’s what you get.”

“I buy pizza and beer for us and you throw things at me,” she said, feigning offense and Lauren finally noticed the pizza box and six-pack on the dining table Camila must have been carrying when she came home. “Unbelievable.”

“Truce?” she asked with her hands up, more than willing to cut the nonsense if it meant she could eat pizza.

“Hmm…” Camila bit her lip, the action catching the green eyed girl’s attention and she felt the urge to kiss her again even stronger than before. “No.” She was snapped out of her one way staring contest with her roommate’s mouth when she felt her spray her with water again.

“Camz!” She ducked her head and ran towards the couch, grabbing a throw pillow to use as a shield, and chased the laughing brunette around their small apartment. “Enough!” she yelled, grabbing her by the waist but slipping on the water on the hardwood, and sent them both to the floor. “Ow, fuck.”

“Well that was graceful.”

“That was entirely your own damn fault,” she countered from beside her, lying on her back. She shut her eyes and groaned at the pain. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” She opened her eyes and looked over at the girl grinning back at her, clearly amused. “Who am I kidding, of course you are.”

“You’re dying to tell me I’m annoying, aren’t you?”

“You’re testing my patience.”

“Tell me I’m annoying,” she continued, smiling wider to push her buttons and poking her in her side. Lauren rolled her eyes and grabbed her hand to stop her but couldn’t contain her own smile if she tried.

Because as she lied there on the floor beside Camila, hair and clothes slightly wet, she couldn’t believe how a person could be so beautiful. And she couldn’t believe how someone as beautiful as Camila would feel anything for someone like her. But she was right there. She was there and she was beautiful and Lauren couldn’t stop smiling.

“I hate you,” she said, her voice coming out as a soft breath as she laughed and shook her head.

“I know.”

The two of them stayed like that for a moment or so, not moving any closer but not moving away either. Neither of them got up and neither of them said anything, Lauren still holding Camila’s hand. And it was more than fine.

It was more than fine when Lauren felt her heart race and it didn’t send her into a panic. It was more than fine when Camila was looking at her like that again, when she thought for sure she would never even look at her at all anymore.

“Hey, Camila?” she asked, her voice quiet, as she stared up at the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

She licked her lips, feeling her next words in every nerve ending of her body, pulsing through her veins, taking all the air out of her lungs. “I really want to fucking kiss you.”

It was like she was watching herself, not quite sure how they ended up there but hanging on the edge of her seat waiting for something to happen. Her heart pounded, felt like it was going to stop at any second, as the sentence floated in the air between them.

“Hey, Lauren?”

“Yeah?”

Camila watched Lauren take in a breath, still looking up. But she turned her head when she felt the touch of her hand, soft and safe, fingers gently tracing the yellowing bruise on the otherwise smooth porcelain skin of her wrist. Lauren shut her eyes, felt like she could die right then, consumed by everything that was Camila.

“I really fucking want you to kiss me.”

* * * *

a/n: does this still count as a fast update? who even am i

i really appreciate the people who have reached out to me either on here or on twitter, to tell me they enjoy the story or they’ve recommended it to people. i love seeing what people have to say so it’s been really nice

hope you enjoyed the update, feel free to let me know what you think (of the chapter or the story so far), and of course, thank you for reading

-lex (twitter/tumblr: manhatanproject)

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #Blame It On Bad Luck

19 notes · View notes