Chapter Text
Aside from sleeping when she thinks no one’s watching and her perpetual need to flirt with cute customers, Dinah’s positive she’d be the poster child for employee of the month. She only sleeps when her manager isn’t watching and she has the courtesy to keep her hands out of the tip jar.
Besides, she only locked herself out with the keys still inside once.
She opens the doors to The Brew, the bell ringing above the door giving away Dinah’s late entrance. Ariana watches her come in from across the room, pointing to the watch and shaking her head in disapproval.
Dinah makes up a compliment about how nice her watch is while flashing her a pageant grin and blaming her tardiness on L.A. traffic. Something along the lines of, “Tourists were crowding the highway,” and a dishonest “Sorry," instead of "I just didn’t feel like waking up. The clock app has 'snooze' an option for a reason."
Camila watches the whole exchange from behind the counter, initiating eye contact with Dinah and perching her head in her hands.
“Maybe if you actually start arriving on time, Ariana might actually consider giving you that raise you’ve been begging for."
The taller girl hurdles over the counter, completely disregarding the employee’s door only two feet away, slipping on her apron and visor in several ungraceful moves.
“Hush, Walz. That clock is jacked, I had a solid five minutes left. Plus, everybody in southern California knows that nobody's got nothin’ on my barista skills, including you and Shawn. Ari’s gonna hit me up with a six figure salary one day. Besides, my counter is so empty right now. It’s lookin’ like Ally's DMs when she posted that picture of her promise ring.”
“That’s because I've been handling all of your orders.”
“And that’s why I love you.” Dinah teases, pecking a soft kiss on Camila’s forehead. Camila’s doesn't bother to wipe off the lip gloss Dinah imprints on her.
“It’s also why you’re stuck with kitchen duty today.” She says, handing over a pair of gloves and a hairnet that Dinah hesitates to take.
“Nevermind, Mani’s my number one again. You’re going back to the bottom of the list, right beneath Lauser.”
“Wow, just like in bed.” Camila quips, sticking her tongue out playfully.
Dinah’s mouth practically shoots open, only spilling out incoherent noises. She’s trying to tell Camila that’s nasty and she doesn’t need their bedroom details, but Camila probably already knows.
“I’m just kidding, God.” Camila jokes. "It’s the other way around.”
“Might as well stick me on dishwashing duty too, I need to wash that dirty ass mouth of yours with hella soap.”
Camila hears Dinah ranting on about being extra keeping her sex life to herself as she takes orders up front, delivering smug looks to Dinah every now and then.
The summer heat keeps customers rolling in. As much as the locals hate the stuffy renovation, the Los Angeles sun is really good for business. If it wasn’t for the cafe’s air conditioning, Dinah would’ve stayed home altogether.
"Hey, look at that couple over there.” Dinah says, observing over Camila’s shoulder. “The one sitting next to the window lookin’ all lovey-dovey."
"What about them?” Camila’s eyes narrow as she looks over. It was a lousy move on her part to forget her contacts this morning.
"So, get this. Two weeks ago, that girl was sitting at that same exact table reading a book. Y’know cheesy hopeless romantic type, kind of like you in sophomore year.”
“Rude.”
“Yeah, but it’s accurate. Anyways, she was just as clumsy as you too. She ended up spilling her smoothie all over her book and stuff—I remember because my ass was responsible for cleaning that mess up,” Dinah continues, narrating with gestures that almost knocked the mug display Shawn had just set up. “And Romeo over there was laughing from the table across from hers. Total douche move.”
Dinah takes a moment to send him a judgmental glare as if he was even aware of what they were doing. "But then all of a sudden she’s tearing up about her book, which makes the dude feels like an even bigger douche. So, our Romeo swoops in with a latte and ends up with smoothie girl's number. And it’s kind of cute because now they come in every Tuesday and order the same damn lattes and it’s like they fall in love all over again.”
After making a personal zoo out of their customers, Dinah takes a seat up on the counter.
“It’s like, do you ever think about the first time you met someone and just compare it to where you guys are now? Like, woah, who knew this would ever happen?"
“When I met you, I thought I was just getting a partner for that stupid history project. I didn’t think I’d end up with an obnoxious soulmate for life.” Camila chimes in, Dinah returning the affection with an almost painful pinch on both of her cheeks.
“That’s right, bitch. We’re in this together forever. We’re like the Cheetah Girls. Amigas, cheetahs, friends for life.”
Dinah begins to run through the whole song before Camila can even protest, only stopping to call names up to pick up their orders.
“Remember how before we even dated, I couldn’t stand Lauren?” Camila interrupts.
“Mhm, that’s why you fell for her instead.” Dinah cracks back, shooting a cheesy grin and finger pistols. “Ba-dum-tss. Get it, Walz?
“For real though, I’m being serious. She was such a player on the softball team. I wasn’t into it."
“But you are now, and it’s like you two have invented love. What a turnout."
Camila breaks her gaze with Dinah to go back fixing the spare change in the register. “Yeah, no, it’s written in the stars or something. When we order the beef with broccoli from that Chinese restaurant on Sixth Street, she eats the broccoli and I eat the beef. It’s like we complete each other.”
Dinah scoffs. “Mila, that’s like saying you're made for each other because she washes the dishes and you wipe them.”
“That’s exactly what we do. It’s fate or destiny, some star-crossed lovers crap. I’m convinced.”
Dinah’s convinced too.
* * *
“Are you nervous?” Camila asked Lauren’s sister, genuinely curious about Taylor’s love life.
The two had been wandering around Miami Mall for the last two hours in an attempt to find an outfit for Taylor’s first date.
Lauren insisted several times that Taylor didn’t need a new wardrobe to impress some boy and that she couldn’t take her because she had work anyways. Camila offered to take Taylor instead, not willing to pass up an opportunity to go shopping.
“Hell yeah, I am. It’s my first date, like ever. I don’t have as much experience as Lauren and Chris yet.” Taylor answered, her eyes browsing through the rack she was checking out.
“You’ll be fine.” Camila diverted her eyes to see Taylor furiously flipping through shirts and chuckled.
“How did your first date go?”
“Um, my first, first date was with this guy, Austin Mahone. He was-"
“A dick.” Taylor chimes in.
“I was going to say he was my first kiss but, yeah, he was a dick too.” Camila says, brows arched up at how articulate the younger Jauregui’s words were. “Dinah and I spent the entire day at the mall and I ended up buying this crop top that Austin was just trying to get me out of the entire time. I honestly don’t know what convinced me to stay with him for three months.”
She makes a face at the memory. “But my first date with your sister went a lot better."
“What’d you guys do?”
She trails behind Taylor to the dressing rooms, sitting outside with the rest of Taylor’s clothes.
“So, have you heard about that fancy restaurant on the pier, the French one?”
Taylor tries to speak with her shirt over her head. “Yeah, Coeur de L’ocean, the really expensive one? No way, Lauren took you there? How’d she even get reservations?”
“Oh, she didn’t.” Camila deadpans. We ended up eating at the Japanese restaurant across from Coeur de L’ocean. Their sushi was way better anyways."
She can hear Taylor’s muffled hums of acknowledgment through the door separating them.
"Then we were supposed to go to Venice Beach, but when I told her that I’d never tagged anything before she drove us to this rooftop to spray paint something. Apparently you actually need a permit, since I didn’t know what we were doing was illegal until we heard a bunch of police sirens."
Camila grins, recalling fondness at the thought.
"I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or Nicholas Sparks vibes the whole thing was giving off, but we ended up kissing at every stop light on the way home."
Taylor’s head and arm pop out of the dressing room to hand Camila her reject pile.
“Aw, Camila, that’s so cute.”
“It was dangerous.” Camila rephrases. "Your sister almost got us killed several times and I all I wanted was a second date. She’s a terrible driver.”
“I know, she made me snapchat her when she drove me here."
“She kissed me one last time when we got to my house, and it was really perfect actually."
It’s a night she recalls vividly, always somewhere in the back of her mind. If I Ain’t Got You by Alicia Keys lulling in the background, the slope of Lauren’s nose, the tattoo on her forearm she’d ask about five dates later. She remembers how they only stopped holding hands to get into her car, how Lauren’s laugh sounded a lot better against her lips.
Her inner exposition is interrupted by a question and Taylor pulling her along to a cashier.
“When did you know you were in love?”
“Woah, didn’t you say this was your first date? Love is going to take you a lot more than dinner and a movie."
“Yeah, but Laur was sixteen when she realized she was in love with you. I mean it can happen to me too. Besides, I only have a couple more months left until I hit sixteen."
“Well, love is like a time and a place. So, I mean, there were a lot of times."
Camila could have said it was when she danced with Lauren at homecoming, even though Lauren won the title of homecoming queen and was socially obligated to a dance with her king, Zayn.
Or when Lauren sat out in the cold waiting for the midnight premiere of Me Before You and pretended to like it. She could have said it was when Lauren brought her flowers to the drama department’s first production of Heathers, which Camila didn’t actually star in (she was more like one of the extras that danced in the back).
It could have been when Lauren woke up early and drove to her house just to listen and help her while she explained her makeup routine before they went to Ally’s 21st birthday at some club or when Lauren held her hair back as she threw up and ruined her makeup at said birthday party. She could have said it was when sent her handwritten notes for two weeks because she got her phone taken away.
So, really, she had a lot of options. It was just a little difficult to choose.
“There was this one time, when my family went to Florida for spring break, so we didn’t get to see to each other for like a week. When I got back, Ally took the five of us went out to check out this new waffle house. Normani and Dinah were teasing Lauren about her lock screen. Even Ally saw it, but no one would tell me what it was. Later I found out it was a picture of me that I sent her before I went on vacation. I didn’t even say anything about it, I just smiled at her and she tried to act cool and said she missed me."
“She really did that?"
“Yeah, it was super cheesy."
* * *
Lauren already had her jacket on and was about to step out the Cabello’s front door. That was, until a flash flood warning came up on their phones and alert on the tv that was annoyingly loud, one which interrupted Sofi’s regularly scheduled programming of Girl Meets World.
“Um, do you want to stay and babysit?”
Lauren opened the door to find that the rain had risen a significant inch or two since she first arrived. “Looks like I don’t have much of a choice, Camz.” She said, shrugging her jacket back off.
“Shut up. You totally wanted to stay the night."
Sofi’s never heard thunder before. She flinches when she hears the second strike, leaning further back into the couch, almost dissipating into it. The two stop their faux-bickering to take notice of the eight year old tearing up on the sofa.
“Aw, hey Sof, it’s okay. It’s just a little bit of thunder, no biggie.”
Sofi lets out a little whine.
“Oh god. Camz, what do we do?"
“I don’t know. This isn’t a thing that happens a lot. You have a brother and a sister. You’re supposed to be good at this.”
“She’s your sister, you’re supposed to be way better at this.”
—
They make dinner together, together meaning Lauren actually cooking while Camila tries to sabotage her because she’s watched too many episodes of Cutthroat Kitchen with Normani.
Sofi perched herself up on a kitchen stool in a warm blanket Lauren wrapped, or at least attempted to wrap her in. Sofi still doesn’t trust Lauren or her elbow anywhere near her nose, or her in general.
She’s not exactly the most qualified to use sharp knives or light a stove, so they keep her in charge of reading the instructions off a website they found.
They eat and another weather report comes on, reminding Lauren that she wasn’t going home anytime soon. Camila makes a comment about how depressing the meteorologist sounds and plays music from her laptop instead. They toss a coin to figure out who’s responsible for washing the dishes. Lauren finds it unfair considering that she did all the cooking, but Camila gets up to put her plate in the sink and turns up the music, dancing and ignoring her complaints. She only stops once to promise that she’ll wipe them after.
When Lauren notices Sofi starting to drool into her pancakes, she carries the younger girl to the living room to leave Camila dancing by herself in the kitchen.
Sofi ends up falling asleep on Lauren, grip tightening when clouds rumbled outside. Lauren doesn’t question it and holds her close, as close as the younger Cabello has ever allowed her. If anyone ever asked Sofi about this, she wouldn't recall. Amnesia or something.
Camila walks into the sight of her sister snoring on her half-awake girlfriend.
“Jealous, Camz?” Lauren teases from the couch, sticking her tongue out.
Camila rolls her eyes. “Come dance with me, dummy."
—
California is known for earthquakes, floods, heatwaves—it’s basically the number one set for dystopian novels and apocalyptic movie plots.
Camila thinks Lauren is a natural disaster. She just can’t figure out what kind.
For the first few weeks of knowing Lauren, Camila thinks it’s lust. Nothing more than a first date that went so well they have more, discreetly, in the janitor’s closet, empty classrooms, the locker rooms, wherever. Dates that involve a lot less clothing and hands that were made more for than just holding in public. Lauren’s just an arbitrary heatwave, keeping her flushed and delirious.
She buries herself in the comfort of their ambiguity. She likes knowing that even though it’s nothing official—that they’re more than a time and a place, that Lauren’s so willing to be there for her even when she doesn’t have to be.
For a while, they’re not really a thing and Lauren wants to be. Camila’s not sure if she wants to be; can’t decide if she has enough sunscreen and water for a heatwave.
They have their first fight which leaves quakes in Camila's chest and tsunamis flooding over the curves of her cheeks.
They’re not a thing, so she tries not to care when Lauren shows up at Maia’s party with Zayn.
They get stuck in a game of seven minutes in heaven. One minute in silence. Two where Lauren speaks up and tells Camila she looks pretty, even in shitty closet lighting. Another three minutes that Camila spends avoiding Lauren’s eyes and wonders how long seven minutes really is. Lauren mumbles on about how she and Zayn aren’t a thing and that she just needed a ride. One minute where Lauren tucks a stray hair behind Camila’s ear and leans in.
They don’t kiss.
Jade knocks on the door and Lauren exits the closet first, leaving Camila with hitched breaths.
Even though she’s never experienced it, Camila’s smart enough to recognize the symptoms of mild hypothermia: trouble speaking, faster breathing, fatigue, slight confusion, and lack of coordination (more than usual in her case). It makes sense for Lauren to be a blizzard.
A blizzard can shut down a city, sometimes for days. Blizzards makes people miss school and it almost impossible to get to work. People can be stuck in their homes for days.
When she doesn’t show up at school, Lauren shows up at her door and refuses to leave until Camila lets her take out.
They go on their second date—a real date, one where Lauren gives Camila her jacket instead of trying to get Camila’s off.
From there, everything suddenly avalanches, sweeping over, reckless and impulsive. She’s wondering when’s the next time she’ll see Lauren, wondering what emoji she’s supposed to put next to Lauren’s contact. She’s wondering if she had a good day and holding back every urge she has to call and ask her.
So maybe Lauren is a wildfire. Camila’s not worried because it’ll die down. They usually do.
It becomes more than just wanting to kiss Lauren's shoulders and pull her hair.
She thinks it’s just snow, and Camila has lived in Los Angeles so long that she mistake it for rain and waits patiently for it to pass. She’s relieved when it doesn’t. Camila’s always been the type to forget her umbrella.
She's so into her it makes her cheeks ache. It makes her palms sweat. Her chest become
familiar with the pattern of tidal waves, rising and falling. Crashing.
Camila smiles even when she’s not around.
Lauren is the wildfire that never died down. Ironically, Camila thinks what they have is fireproof.
* * *
Feedback continues to roll back from microphones even as the curtains are opening for the third act of the play, if you consider a reenactment of Jennifer’s Body a play. Lauren still isn’t sure how the drama department got this approved since she’s sure it crosses so many lines of homicide and homoeroticism. The last part reminds her just how Camila got a lead role.
The play is a lot more decent than she had anticipated, despite the low budget effects and uncomfortable theatre seats. It’s not the director’s fault that Lauren doesn’t know how to sit still in once place for more than an hour. Her elbow keeps nudging into the flowers Normani brought for Camila, which look way more impressive than the single rose Lauren keeps fiddling with in her hands. Sometimes Lauren is convinced that Normani is trying to steal her own girlfriend from her.
("Way to ruin my flow, Mani."
"You didn't have any flow to begin with, fool.”)
Dinah’s side commentary and bickering with Ally makes it bearable despite skipping most of the explicit parts. The last thing Lauren wants to see is Camila reenacting the makeout scene in front of the student body with Taylor Swift anyways.
Camila thinks that movies and plays need to start coming with “Warning: Do Not Attempt” labels because she’s learned first hand that high school myths are total busts.
Kissing in rain only ends up with colds, ice skating on Christmas Eve result in sprained ankles, and that winter formal proposals are only cute when she has time to do her makeup before and change out of her sweatpants before actually getting proposed to. (Normani actually told her the day before to dress nice, but she thought the only thing she had to look forward to was a Spanish test.)
And although Megan Fox makes being a teenage man-eating demon look fun, it’s not something to add on a bucket list.
Still, she likes peeking back at the audience to see everyone’s reassuring smiles.
She likes seeing Lauren in a state of flushed adoration and giving her attention, not that she needs to act on a stage for Lauren’s attention. The over-supportive girlfriend look is good on her.
Camila spends so much time reciting lines faking it over and over again just to get it right. Lauren doesn’t need to know that when Camila tells her she loves her, it’s never out of habit.
* * *
Having an extensive Cuban family means that Camila’s lived through her fair share of years being the flower girl at weddings enough to outgrow the role. She thinks it’s exciting the first few times, but after a while it gets tiring to suppose that weddings are a validation that love really does work out for some people. By age nine, she realizes that she doesn’t want to get married.
Still, she promised her mom that she would at least attend weddings, especially since the role of flower girl has been passed down to Sofi.
Dinah was originally the plus one to the wedding, but she already promised Ally she would help move into her new apartment and it’s kind of hard to cancel plans on Ally. Camila decides that Normani makes great company anyway. It’s not like Normani’s ever said no to free food and an excuse to look stunning in front of a bunch of people.
She and Normani exchange giggles and low whispers about how the groom sounds like he picked it out of some wedding catalog two days earlier.
"I love you unconditionally and without hesitation. I vow to love you, uplift you, trust you, and respect you. I promise to build a relationship of equality knowing that we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. I take you to be the love of my life, the companion of my house, the stars in my sky. I choose to be the one by your side and in your heart. Today, surrounded by people who love us, I choose you to be my one and only, as I am proud to be yours. I vow to support you, push you, inspire you, and love you, for better or worse, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, as long as we both shall live.
While everyone tears up in adoration and passes tissues, the two of them bet how long it’ll take for something to go wrong.
—
Camila likes wedding receptions more than actual weddings.
The reception is held on the roof of a building, which purpose Camila isn’t sure of. She doesn’t care though because the rooftop is nothing less than elegant. There are lights draping above everything, highlighting the grassed flooring. There’s a dance floor and sets of tables and chairs surrounding it. A live band is getting ready to set up next to something Camila doesn’t really care about because she catches the sight of her girlfriend in her catering uniform, white button down paired up with a black tie and those apron things that go around waists. She’s literally a glorified waitress for tonight. "A hot waitress, at least." Camila thinks.
(So maybe it’s not the reception that she likes and moreover the fact that her dad specifically recommended the catering company Lauren works for to her cousin.)
The first thing Normani notices is the open bar.
—
It's almost pathetic at how Lauren's only twenty feet away and she misses her.
She didn’t get much of a chance to say hi after her dad took it upon himself to introduce Lauren as her girlfriend to the entire family, or at least a good majority of the family. She’s crowded by cousins and aunts before she can make her way to Lauren, who promptly left to bring out more wine when asked several times about her she’s going to propose to Camila. They only get to exchange apologetic looks before Lauren has to charm her relatives.
Camila spends the first hour of the reception shifting uncomfortably in her chair during dinner.
Her family isn’t the most subtle when it comes to asking questions. It’s not the whole coming out thing she’s so anxious about. She can’t exactly be mad at her father anyways for the whole “Hey, my daughter isn’t straight,” scene, he’s just being supportive and she was going to tell the whole family at one point. She just thought it would be more along the lines of a group text or something. She just doesn’t like her sexuality being the topic of conversation while they’re eating chicken, which Normani critiques as “upsettingly dry” and “wouldn’t last one round of Chopped".
Normani has to carry most of the conversations that, to be fair, were directed towards Camila to begin with. Even the bride and groom stop by her table to congratulate her as if tonight’s her night. The only people who aren’t talking to her or the newlyweds are the people trying to shove centerpieces in their purses. She almost enjoys the four different times to it takes to explain to her abuela that Lauren is her girlfriend and not her girl friend.
Camila hopes that this is the closest she’ll ever get to her own wedding.
—
Camila’s grateful that an actual DJ replaced the band an hour ago, otherwise she would have brought out her own aux cord. The DJ only plays classic 90s RnB and songs from top 40s radio stations, but she’s willing to settle.
The slow ballads kick in and it looks like Normani’s her date for the night, not that she’s complaining.
Norman admittedly, is like the perfect date and is most likely is a better dancer than Lauren, not that Camila can judge considering her own lack of rhythm.
But she still keeps her eyes closed when she pretends it’s Lauren she’s dancing with, because
their song is playing, and she’s confident enough to make another bet with Normani that Lauren’s singing along.
Lauren is. Lauren always does. She can hear Alicia Keys playing over the speakers and vocalizes the lyrics.
She spots Camila with Normani on the dance floor from the bar counter.
There’s nothing more she wants to do than cut in and switch spots with Normani, like in those high school movies where the guy interrupts at homecoming to ask the girl, “May I have this dance?”, but her manager has her on call for the rest of the night and if there’s anyone that’s dancing with Camila, Lauren’s just glad it’s Normani.
Lauren sends Normani a glance that says, "Watch your hands, Kordei."
Normani flings back a, "Watch your jealousy, Jauregui”, to spite her, but nonetheless moves her hands higher to Lauren’s approval.
“Margarita with some lime, please. No salt around the rim though, that sounds nasty.”
She breaks her conversation with Normani to see Sofi sitting on one of the barstools, looking up expectantly.
Lauren laughs at first, thinking she’s joking. The look on Sofi’s face says otherwise.
“Sofi, what the— No."
"Boo. And I was just starting to like you.” Sofi’s about to regret that last part when she sees a smile playing at Lauren’s lips.
“What about a Shirley Temple instead?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like Sprite with some red stuff mixed in to look cool. I’ll even put it in a martini glass and throw in one of those mini umbrellas if you want.”
“And a straw?”
“And a straw."
“Deal.”
Lauren looks around to make sure no one thinks she’s actually serving booze to someone who is clearly underage, before she sets up the drink. It’s not really an impression she wants to make in front of her girlfriend’s family.
“So, everyone thinks you and Kaki are good for each other and junk, I guess.”
“Oh, yeah? And what do you think?” Lauren has a good idea what Sofi thinks, but Lauren’s is a little desperate for her validation, as much as she’d never admit it.
“It’s whatever. I want an invitation to the wedding and I want to be flower girl though.” Then she just walks away with her drink, leaving Lauren without much of a goodbye.
Lauren figures she shouldn’t read so heavily into what Sofi says, but knowing that she sort of expects a future with them together mildly sets her nerves at ease.
—
Camila walks up to the bar after three slow songs and Normani ditching her to dance her cousins who actually have the least bit of coordination.
“So am I like, the only Cabello you haven’t held a conversation with tonight?”
“Yeah, but I get off in like an hour and then I’m all yours.” Lauren leans against the counter, trying to limit the space between them as much as possible.
“Well, I mean, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I could get you off in the bathroom right now.” Camila implies, her voice an octave lower than usual.
“Camz, your family is here.” Lauren swallows thickly, feeling her cheeks flush at the insinuation.
“Yeah, I know. I’m here. You’re here. But we could be in a bathroom right now. Normani said they were like, surprisingly clean for an outdoor venue.” Camila persists.
She doesn’t put up much of a fight when Camila drags her into the bathroom and kisses her against the nearest wall.
She ends up chuckling into Camila’s mouth because Camila’s terrible at multitasking and the frustration is apparent on her face when she fumbles with Lauren’s belt. She takes her lips off of Camila’s neck to tell her, “This is the best wedding I’ve ever been to, I think.”
“You didn’t even get to go to the actual wedding."
“Still, I watched them during the dinner when they were repeating those cheesy vows to each other. I have a good idea of what happened. And the best part is, I think it’s safe to say your family likes me.” She nips at Camila's jaw. “Scratch that, loves me."
Camila physically jumps away when Lauren’s phone chimes from her pocket. She’s only slightly annoyed at the fact that Lauren actually picks up the call in the middle of their quickie, but she figures it’s just her sex drive talking.
“It’s Zendaya. She says there’s an emergency at the buffet station. The bride’s asking for more of those mini cheesecakes.”
Camila groans when she pecks her on cheek and exits the bathroom.
—
The rest of the evening is followed by throwing rice, eating cake (which Normani critiques as too sweet and would never make it to her wedding if she ever had one), five non-stop rounds of the cupid shuffle, and the bouquet toss which leads Camila to the rooftop balcony.
There was also a wedding montage that she and Normani refused to sit through just because the groom learned how to use PowerPoint and a few drunk toasts, but they’re not missing out on much.
Normani shows up fifteen minutes later to join Camila in pretentiously looking down on their city.
"Guess who caught the bouquet!"
“You?”
“Yes, well— no. I caught it, but then I was like, I’m still young and I don’t have time for someone to tie me down yet. So I gave it to Sofi. I bet she’ll get married before you. ”
It’s not even something Normani has to bet on to begin with. She just enjoys being right.
Her speech is a lot more composed than her movements. She fumbles to open the water bottle in her purse, only to realize that twisting the top off is a lot harder when you’re seven to ten drinks in. Camila lets out a hopeless sigh before opening it with ease. Normani mumbled out a small “thanks” while she tries to contain her hiccups.
Her attention turns back over the railing, keeping her eyes peered over the skyline. Everything’s a lot nicer when the sun has set and the sky’s color is washed out. The city lights make for nice lighting, causing the city to blush in orange and pink tones. The palm trees remind of her Miami.
“The view is pretty."
“For a several thousand dollar venue, it better be.” Camila scoffs.
“You know what else is pretty?"
“What?”
For a second, Camila likes pretending that Normani’s hitting on her, even when Lauren’s somewhere relatively close to them, because who wouldn’t hit on Camila? Plus, Normani’s about five glasses of champagne in, so really, the fact that Normani has hit on anyone yet is impressive. Both of them recognize the honor and privilege it is to get hit on by Normani Kordei Hamilton.
Normani just replies with a soft smile and a tipsy, “Me.”
Needless to say, Camila’s not surprised.
Her phone screen lights up in her clutch and she slides the notification to read a text from Lauren.
Normani can read the subtle excitement on Camila’s face. She gives her a nod of encouragement before saying, “Go ahead, girl. Get yours.”
—
She takes a seat next to Lauren, who’s smiling back at her from an empty table that, thank God, happens to be the farthest away from her family.
“Hey.”
“Hey."
She takes a moment to actually look at her girlfriend, to actually study the features on her face without thinking about which part she wants to kiss first.
Camila gets a little tired of trying to figure out what kind of green they are, but never wears herself out staring back at them.
From up this close she can see the freckles lined on either side of the bridge of her nose. Her lips are barely chapped and strands of hair are still out of place from their bathroom rendezvous.
It's ridiculous how even in this disheveled state, Lauren is still the closest thing to perfect
Camila’s ever known.
“I, uh, I want to tell you something.”
Lauren meets her with a ‘Hmm” of acknowledgment. She relaxes her posture as she takes Lauren’s hand in hers.
“I love you unconditionally and without hesitation.”
Lauren’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you reciting the wedding vows?”
Camila ignores the interruption. "I vow to love you, uplift you, trust you, and respect you."
“That’s plagiarism.”
“Shut up.” Her grin only widens. “I can’t wait to live a life with you that could only make me wonder why I ever could’ve done this alone. I take you to be the light of my life, the fire in my loins, the sand between my ass cheeks."
“Ew."
"Shh, I lost my spot. Where was I?"
"You were talking about your ass."
It’s her own rendition of the vows, and she’s absolutely certain hers already sounds way better than the original.
"Right, okay. So I choose you to be the driver of our road trips, the co-owner of the two dogs
we'll own—a golden retriever and a pug, obviously—the co-rent payer of our future apartment rent."
“That's not a word, but I’ll let it slide because I can’t afford an apartment alone with this job.”
Camila ignores the interruption.
"Tonight, surrounded by mostly family members I just met for the first time, I promise to only want the best for you— the best for us because I still can’t go a day without daydreaming about you. I promise to be be your biggest fan and partner in crime, to hold you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world—"
“Your ass is the eighth wonder of the world.”
Camila places her other hand over Lauren’s mouth until it effectively shuts her up.
“I love you, Lo." She can't emphasize this part enough. "Maybe not enough to actually get married and pretend to like our extended family, but I know that I don’t want to go to pretentiously fancy dinners and deal with taxes or real estate if it’s not going to be with you.”
Half-lidded green eyes glaze over hers appreciatively.
"I don’t want to settle down anytime soon and wonder what we could be. Not when I’m as convinced as our friends that we’re a forever thing. I want to keep people wondering how we even got this far and I want to keep thinking about how good we’ll look together thirty years from now. I want to keep waking up next to you and argue over dumb things like why you always finish my greek yogurt when you sleep over. I don’t want to be anyone’s good example of a relationship because I want to be young and naive enough to make stupid decisions, I want to keep being a fool for you."
"And I doubt I need a ring to do that.” She adds, for good measure.
The realization of how sappy that sounds hits her and she hastily moves to sit in the unoccupied seat next to her, getting into her new role as the officiant.
"Do you, Lauren, promise to be Karla Camila Estrabao Cabello’s boo as you grow old and gross and forget relatively everything besides each other’s names, and even then, continue to do so?"
“I mean, yeah, I guess.” Lauren says nonchalantly, but convincingly.
Camila shoves her shoulder.
“I, Lauren, choose you, Camila", She begins, mimicking Camila seriously. “To be the one to remind me that this isn’t a dream. To let you steal the covers and drool on my arm, which you do, by the way. I promise to laugh at your dumb jokes and cry with you when you remember the ending to Titanic.”
Camila’s only half-listening, as her gaze falls back to the eyes she loves so much. Lauren squeezing her hand tugs her back into focus.
"And it sounds crusty and overdone but I want to give you the world, which isn't even enough because you deserve better than that and I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do with outer space, but I want to give you that too.”
“Are you saying you want to buy me the moon?”
“I want to give you everything.”
Lauren says it as if her weekly paycheck suddenly amounts to a million dollars. As if she doesn’t already beg her manager to let her pull extra shifts so she can scrape up extra tips for date nights. As if she doesn’t have a college tuition laughing at her bank account. As if she doesn’t have two year’s worth of savings hidden in her desk with all the money she’s saved up for a round-trip to New York (because maybe Camila mentioned it once when they started dating and Lauren just couldn’t ignore the ambition in her eyes).
She says it like she already has a world to give Camila. One where they finally get to sit front row for the 1975, where introducing each other to family is less of an inconvenience, where Lauren doesn’t struggle to make up metaphors about how much Camila means to her, where Lauren doesn’t walk so haphazardly when crossing the street because she thing about kissing so often. A world where Camila’s acting isn’t limited to a dusty theatre room and where Lauren doesn’t have to postpone her dreams to serve hor d'oeuvres to strangers. A world with more, because maybe Camila doesn't need everything.
She says it with so much confidence that Camila doesn’t hesitate to believe it.
Lauren doesn’t make promises she can’t keep.
* * *
Camila loosens her hair out of a braid, debates on braiding it back as Dinah critiques the contestants on America’s Next Top Model. A pile of clothes has formed on her bed, a few garments missing their mark and making themselves at home on the floor. Dinah’s in her own room, but her volume is enough to make Camila think Dinah’s right behind her.
Camila almost doesn’t hear her sister asking her a question from her door.
“Do you wanna watch the High School Musical marathon with me?”
“Sorry Sof, I’m going out with Lauren tonight. Maybe when I get back?"
Her sister mumbles out a “sure” before turning on her heel to exit.
"Sof, wait,” She stops at the door frame. "Do you want to help me get ready?”
The younger girl doesn’t reply, instead taking a seat on one of her shirts on the bed and absently humming the chorus to “Breaking Free".
“What do you think about this?” Camila asks, gesturing at herself in the mirror.
"It’s a little thotty,” She uses a word she clearly picked up from Dinah. Camila sends a dirty look to her laptop which makes Dinah find an excuse to feed the fish (that she doesn’t own) and hang up the call.
Sofi takes a deep breath before exhaling out a bunch of questions. “So, what are you guys doing tonight? Did you bring your keys? Mami’s gonna kill you if you set off the alarms again. Is she treating you right? Are you happy?”
Camila almost trips with one leg tangled in the wrong pant hole.
“We’re just gonna drive around, keys are already in my clutch, I won’t set off the alarms because
I finally figured out how to climb up the tree and through my window, yes, and yes."
“Very happy.” She adds while squeezing into her jeans.
Sofi replies with a disapproving hmm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wear the skirt instead, I think she has a thing for your ass."
“Sofi!”
—
Camila gets annoyed with slow texters. Lauren’s a slow texter. She’s always busy writing paragraphs the size of novels that Camila rolls her eyes at first, then blushes at when Dinah reads it over her shoulders.
When Camila told Lauren she couldn’t stand people who smoke. What she meant was, she couldn’t stand people who tried to make vaping sound cool and smokers who blew puffs directly into her face. Lauren hears differently, immediately tossing all of her cigarettes and donated the rest of her weed to Alexa. They still smoked one last time, but she still made a grand gesture of stepping on and putting out a joint in front of Camila without even smoking it. When she tells Alexa about it, Alexa wants to strangle her over the phone.
Camila isn’t the biggest fan of excessive PDA. (She’s a hypocrite when it comes to this.)
She gets irritated when people eat food off her plate without asking first. Lauren does this, often, know that Camila thinks about this. She neglects to recall the number of times she’s taken shirts and hoodies from Lauren’s closet, most of which she hasn’t returned.
Lauren’s always been Camila’s pet peeves.
Jealousy’s the one thing they never found compromised for—they never needed to find compromise for.
So maybe Lauren’s problem isn’t that she doesn’t know how to share, it’s that she’s always sharing—that she isn’t used to having something, someone that’s undeniably hers. Even though she knows Camila isn’t really hers, understands that people don’t belong to anybody but themselves and some other obscure reference to the patriarchy, but still.
They’re barely four steps outside of Camila’s house before the passive aggressive comments about spending a little too much time with Shawn start rolling in.
They don’t notice Sofi standing behind the front door that’s supposed to be closed.
“I’m just saying—"
“Saying what? That Shawn’s too nice? That you’re jealous?"
Lauren’s eye dull with envy rather than their usual charisma. They’re lackluster. She throws a “whatever” over her shoulder right before she gets into her car and drives away.
This is what Sofi’s always been scared of.
Lauren’s got her mother’s trust issues and her father’s stubbornness.
Maybe that’s why (include reason for argument
Her eyes dart to again to the empty driver’s seat. Her knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel.
She almost forgets to go at a green light, the driver behind her is pissed and she can see him flipping her off from the rear view mirror.
She flips him off and keeps her eyes locked on the road, lets her ears adjust to the voice coming from the stereo. There’s some radio host who won’t shut up and she plugs in her phone.
A playlist on her phone that’s definitely not about Camila comes up.
She recognizes the song, doesn’t resist when the lyrics tell her to loosen her grip and ease up on the gas pedal.
It reminds her of singing it in the shower with Camila on the other end of a call. Sitting on the bleachers and sharing earphones. Camila singing it at last year's talent show. Dinah banning both of them from singing it at karaoke night. Almost but not really slow dancing to it at the wedding. Lauren singing Camila to sleep. Their first date. It wasn’t even her favorite song until she heard Camila sing it. Every moment from there and in between.
The song reminds her of Camila, obviously. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be seconds from turning her car back around.
She’s back on the front doorstep where it seems like Camila’s been standing there for twenty minutes, maybe thirty. She doesn’t know. She left her phone in the car.
“I—” Her voice falters, which it almost never does. "What I said was really shitty and immature, that you deserve better and that I can’t— that I’m not giving that to you. (She doesn’t say can’t because she knows she can.) “It’s just the way you smile at him—”
Camila finally speaks up. “I smile at everyone, Lo. I’m kind of a smiley person if you haven’t noticed."
“It’s a different look."
“Have you seen the way I look at you?”
“I—“ Lauren starts, gives up her argument because there isn’t one to begin with. “No."
“Then maybe you should pay more attention."
It’s probably the way Lauren looks so vulnerable and relieved, like she knew for the most part, but so desperately needs the validation. Or maybe it’s the way Lauren runs her hand through her hair, the way she always does when she doesn’t know what to do next. Or maybe it’s because Lauren drove back and is standing on her porch with a soft gaze that reminds her of every time she’s kissed her goodnight on these same steps.
Because they’ve only ever had good nights.
To think so makes Camila drop everything and leave it. Not because there’s not something to fight about, but because this isn’t something worth fighting about. They should’ve been downtown being better tourists that the actual tourists half an hour ago.
Other than the birthmark on her left arm that vaguely resembles a misshapen sun, Lauren is the one constant in Camila’s life.
She’s headstrong and solid, Camila can’t ever remember anything in her life staying; which saves and scares the shit out of her all at once. She doesn’t need Lauren to be her other half, she’s well and whole and complete on her own. She just wants her to be.
It makes her so willing to give whatever control she has left to Lauren and she knows without a doubt she’ll keep it safe.
* * *
jauregross: hey camz do you ever think about how weird it is that u could be watching tv or like just reading and suddenly out of nowhere ur thinking about how nice it’d be to do it with that one special person like woah
jauregross: lmao
karloser: that’s how i feel about you, you idiot
jauregross: okay good i’m glad i’m not the only one
Lauren leaves her phone on her desk when she goes to the bathroom. She comes back to five unread texts.
karloser: ok so this is important
karloser: is it pronounced pirates of the "caRIBbean” or of the "cariBBEan"
karloser: hey
karloser: answer me jauregui
karloser: you can’t just fall asleep on me like this
jauregross: relax i was just brushing my teeth
jauregross: but i wouldn’t mind falling asleep on you ;)
karloser: ykno what gnight jauregui
jauregross: night camZzZ
The question keeps her up for the next two hours.
Being in love with Camila Cabello is the best form of self sabotage Lauren knows. Sabotage which includes (but is not limited to): absently checking her phone without knowing it, blasting cheap love songs too loudly at midnight, and her personal favorite, calling Keana at ungodly hours of the night.
Lauren doesn’t bother with the formalities, there’s no, "Hey Keana, I know it’s kind of 4:00 AM and you have classes to get to in the morning, but I just wanted to catch up."
She starts with, “So like I was listening to Kanye and you know that one part in ‘Bound 2’ where he goes ‘one girl is worth a thousand bitches’? Like don’t get me wrong a bunch of his lyrics are misogynistic but when I heard this verse I really had to think about it. It’s true, Keeks. He has point. He doesn’t have to refer to women as bitches, but like, I get it."
Keana replies with only the most appropriate response to a situation like this.
“Lauren, what the fuck?”
“I mean think about it, one good girl kind of is worth a thousand, y’know, b-words.” Lauren whispers the last word like she didn’t just say the it a second ago.
"It’s Camila, isn’t it?"
She can’t see Lauren, but her sappiness is practically leaking from her end of the line.
“It’s always been Camila."
Not even leaking anymore, it’s pooling. It’s coming in from Lauren’s end and forces it’s way to Keana’s, devastating the few hours of sleep she had a shot at.
“Anyways, I think she's the prettiest girl in the universe, even compared to all the beautiful alien babes out there. Which is saying a lot, I mean, aliens are real and they’re probably kick ass in terms of genetics.”
“I know. You’ve woken me up to tell me about your conspiracies before. Can we make sure this doesn’t end up being one of those nights?”
Lauren offers a ‘mhm’.
Keana doesn’t hear Lauren ranting over the phone, so she figures it’s her turn to speak.
"Do you ever think about how different your life would be if you hadn't met Camila?"
“Yeah. I’d have more money in my wallet, I wouldn't have watched Zombieland eight times, I’d probably be eating less junk food, and I’d have a more consistent sleeping schedule."
Keana thinks that last one is a little ironic.
“But I wouldn’t be as happy.” Lauren adds. "Sometimes getting what you want means giving up what you have, and I’d do it again and again. Y’know?”
Keana doesn’t know. She wants to sleep, but she doesn’t know what she has to give up to get some. Her drowsiness distracts her from responding, then Lauren blasting an old Kanye song she doesn’t know the lyrics of keeps her conscious.
"Are you high right now?"
“Maybe."
“I thought you gave up smoking. Are you and Alexa still hotboxing Lucy’s car?"
"No, we're not. Well, I’m not. I’m just in love.” Lauren half-declares, half-sings.
“Gross."
“I’m in love.” She yells this time, Keana instantly regrets ever wearing earbuds.
“Lauren, shut the fuck up.”
She does. Then recoils for a moment, whispers instead, “I’m in love.”
“God, you’re such a bottom.”
“Shut up."
* * *
“Okay, guys listen up. We need sugar, eggs, flour, baking powder, some milk, and butter,” Ally reads off their list as hangs on to the front of the cart.
After beating Dinah in three rounds of rock-paper-scissors in the parking lot, they decided that Camila got to sit inside the cart while Dinah pushes. Ally called shotgun before Dinah could complain. “I don’t know how you don’t already have this at your house, Mila."
“I’m not sure, honestly. I think it’s because my mom’s trying to get us all to go vegan.”
Dinah raises her eyebrows. “Girl, didn’t you go out for sushi yesterday?”
“Yeah. Well, I didn’t say the whole vegan thing was working.” Dinah scoffs and strolls down further past the baked goods. “What if we just buy her one of these nice pre-made cakes, instead? Saves us the dirty work and, hear me out guys, it’s got the nice decorations on top.”
The other three girls reply with a unanimous “no”.
“What about instant brownie mix? Brownies are festive and technically, we’d still be the ones making it.” Camila asks, buried under several bags of Hot Cheetos.
“Why? Do you think we should just ditch the birthday cake thing and bake Lauren some birthday brownies? Does Lauren even like cake?” Ally didn’t really care as long as something went into an oven today.
“I mean, I think she does. I’m just really feeling some brownies right now.”
“Mhm, I second that motion,” Dinah votes while she and Camila take it upon themselves to sweep the first five boxes they see off the shelf and into the latina’s lap.
“Guys, c’mon.” Normani picks the boxes from Camila and switches them out. "At least get the good ones.”
By “good ones” Normani really means the name brand brownies that come with walnuts. Dinah gives her a nod of approval. “Good call, Mani.”
Ally taps the cart with her shoe, signaling for Dinah to move. “Aisle 5 next, DJ. I forgot the vanilla extract."
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not your Uber driver, Smalls.” She complies anyways, pushing the cart and then standing on the bar in the back, riding the cart like a scooter and gliding past the frozen food section with the two girls holding on for their well-being and ditching Normani in aisle 9.
Dinah’s steering is just as reckless as it is on the road. She manages to avoid running down a pair of twins, but almost batters down a sample stand using Ally. They get several looks from employees stocking produce, although it was only a matter of time.
Camila looks over the rest of the shopping list while Ally tries to avoid puking in the middle of the store. “Do we really need butter though? It's just kind of, I don’t know, unnecessarily salty."
“Yeah, like Mani whenever I borrow her clothes without asking,” Dinah chimes in.
“Last time I checked you don't have room to talk Dinah. You still haven't returned my bomber jacket from like, two months ago."
“I don't know what you're talking about, Mani. Dinah whom? Don't know her,” she says as she pushes the cart (and Camila) faster to avoid Normani’s indignation.
“Guys, focus.” Ally tries to jump back onto one of the sides while Dinah turns the corner. "We’ve got two hours before Lauren gets off of work. And, yes, we do need butter."
Along with the butter, Dinah and Camila end up swiping instant ramen, frozen pizza, girl scout cookies, and a bunch of other items that put them forty bucks over budget.
—
Camila thinks that falling for Lauren Jauregui takes less effort than baking a cake. As far as she’s concerned, there are only nine steps.
Preparation: Forget about your loser ex-boyfriend. Go to Ariana’s party to forget about said loser ex-boyfriend and accidentally drunk-flirt with her in Ariana’s backyard.
(You can skip this step, but Camila doubts the final product would be as satisfying.)
Step 1: Attend the same school as her for at least a year, but only acknowledge her existence sophomore year and realize that she's available and not a player, regardless of everything Taylor has told you. (It helps if she’s a senior in your Spanish class and all of your friends just happen to know each other.)
Step 2: Try not to awkwardly stare at her.
Step 3: Give up and stare at her, at least try to make it less awkward. Repeat this step as many times as necessary, despite Dinah’s teasing.
Step 4: Fall for her personality, which turns out to be just as beautiful as her eyes.
Step 5: Realize the fact that you’re going to be screwed if you let this continue, literally and metaphorically.
Step 6: Accept the fact that you’re going to be screwed if you let this continue. Don’t forget to sneak off into the bathroom every now and then when you’re sure no one’s watching.
Step 7: Ask her out. Or wait for her to ask you out. One of you has to eventually.
Step 8: Let relationship simmer and come to a steady boil. Cool for four to five months.
Step 9: Decorate with excessive affection and intimacy. Top off with unnecessary invitations for Netflix and conventional texts about how much she means to you.
Serve warm with lots of adoration.
—
Lauren corners Camila in the kitchen while the rest of the girls are still trying to find the seventh clue of the scavenger hunt that Ally set up. Dinah forgot about where she put her clue and hid it a little too well. Lauren starts with a kiss on Camila’s lips, taking her time to trail along her jaw.
Camila’s eyes flutter as Lauren’s mouth inches closer to her ear. "I can’t believe you put a fucking dildo in the cake."
She lets out a chuckle and pushes Lauren off of her to look her in the eye. "I told you that Dinah and I put something special in it for you."
“Yeah, I know. I thought you meant like sprinkles or something. I thought you put love or whatever."
“We added that too. Besides, who the hell puts sprinkles in a cake?” Camila moves her hands to either side of the older girl’s neck, pulling her into an embrace.
“Not you, apparently."
She smiles sweetly as she reaches in her pocket for her phone and checks the time. 12:01 AM.
Camila finds it difficult to speak against her girlfriend’s lips. “Happy birthday, Lo.”
* * *
People always tell Lauren she has nice eyes, gorgeous even. Lauren knows that. Eyes compared to cosmos and everglades and whatever poetic metaphors Lauren has stopped believing in.
Dinah compared them to a salad she ate once, not that the description was very poetic.
She can’t find a part of her that's sick of romanticizing eyes when she looks at Camila’s, which is very pseudo-poetic of Lauren.
They're brown, dusky and still so bright. Full of their own metaphors, but Lauren can only acknowledge them when they’re looking at her. Nothing makes her feel more beautiful.
And it's not just Camila's eyes.
It's Camila.
Her favorite smile to kiss, her favorite hands to hold, her favorite hair to run hand through, her favorite legs to get lost in—which is why she never verbalizes any of this out loud. Sofi would kill
her, like actually kill her.
So maybe whenever they FaceTime, usually with Sofi somewhere in the background, Lauren stares too long and forgets to reply sometimes. It's followed by Camila asking, “What?” in the most innocent tone and Lauren replying with the same “nothing” accompanied by the additional grin and shrug she always does just because Camila's smile is her favorite smile and Camila’s eyes are her favorite color.
In Camila’s eyes, Lauren sees a future.
Not just late nights with her on the phone talking about what they’re going to do when they make it, but like an actual future where they settle down and do the things they’ve always talked about doing.
She’s so into Camila that she can’t really do much except stare when they’re together and, yeah, she’s paying attention. She’s watching the way her lips curve around vowels, the way her accent edges off her tongue. Camila talks, like, a lot. It's a good think Lauren loves listening.
She’s so into Camila that while she’s listening, her eyes wander to her hair, her jaw, her neck, her shoulders, looking for one thing that could convince her she isn’t.
She can’t find anything, except that when her mouth outlines profanity; thinks it would sound a lot better with the two of them in a bed.
Lauren could love Camila better than anyone else even with her eyes closed.
* * *
Camila’s about to crash after pulling a ten hour shift, but she’s still got movie night with Lauren to hold on to. She gives her a call because Lauren’s probably still knocked out from her afternoon nap and Camila kind of needs her awake to get into her house.
“Hey, what do you want?”
Lauren takes her time to respond, and when she does, her voice is muffled and raspy. “You’re the one that called me, dummy. What do you want?”
“No,” Camila huffs, “I mean what do you want?”
“I just want what’s best for you.”
“Laur, it’s cute when you’re fake deep and all, but I’m at In-N-Out and the drive-thru guy is getting impatient. So, what do you want?”
“Animal fries and a strawberry shake.”
* * *
Camila’s eyes open when the illumination of her phone almost reads 1AM and she realizes she’s kind of overstayed her visit.
Her first instinct is to stretch her arms out, which she only succeeds to do until her balled fist meets Lauren’s face. To her discomfort, the arms around her waist recoil and Lauren’s face twists as she covers it with a pillow.
“Shit. Sorry, Lo.” Camila lifts the pillow so Lauren can hear her better. “Do you need a tampon or something?”
Lauren rolls over to protect her face from any further assault.
“Are you sure?”
The response she gets is a pillow in her face.
God, being the little spoon is such a burden.
Camila edges off the bed and reaches out aimlessly, slipping on the first thing she grabs onto. It’s a pair of jeans which she realizes when both her arms are in the part legs and her head isn’t supposed to be able to fit through the zipper. She continues fumbling around the floor for something that’s going to keep her modest enough to grab something from the kitchen.
The softball jersey she ends up grabbing cascades easily over her frame, only encouraging Camila’s consideration to “borrow” more of her girlfriend’s clothes.
She starts buttoning up the top three, then buttons another three when she hears the Ally in her conscience telling her to “button up for Jesus”.
Her stomach interrupts Ally’s rant on etiquette for sleeping over when you’re not supposed to be, criticizing herself for not eating earlier.
Camila leaves Lauren in bed with a kiss on the cheek and figures she should probably grab Lauren some ice for her face while she’s downstairs.
She closes Lauren’s door gently, like she’s in one of those spy movies her dad made her watch with him, and tiptoes past rooms of muffled snoring, paying extra caution to the master bedroom. The last thing she needs right now is Clara catching her without any pants on again.
She takes her time when sneaks downstairs, or at least tries to. The wooden steps are distressingly louder than she anticipated. It’s smooth sailing up to the point where she miscounts the last step and stumbles into a lamp.
Camila makes a mental note to add ‘burglar' to the list of careers Dinah told her she shouldn’t attempt to pursue, right next to stand up comedian. Camila begs to differ at the latter.
The Jauregui household screams suburban. It’s almost rich, white, picket-fenced neighborhood material. It’s got this, “we go camping in the summers, and if we have time after family game night, we scrapbook”, vibe that’s surprisingly welcoming. The smiles behind frames would be a lot more endearing if it wasn’t as dark and uncomfortably quiet as it currently was.
And the fridge is huge. Her little mental Ally makes sure to say grace before Camila helps herself to its contents.
She doesn’t feel coordinated enough to make pancakes this late at night, so she settles for the banana that’s been in front of her for a solid three minutes.
When she closes the door, Chris’ face is illuminated by the fridge light and a taser is in his hands, a sight which, at the very least, scares the total shit out of Camila.
It’s evident by the way her first instinct is to throw the banana at his forehead that she really shouldn’t live alone. Which is fine— that’s what Lauren’s for, anyway.
Chris flinches back down with his hand bandaging his head, eyes still squinting in the dark.
Two for two though, she’s on a roll tonight.
“Why are you in my house?” Chris asks, half-whispering, half-screaming.
“Chris, why the hell do you have a taser?” Camila half-whispers, half-screams back.
“Why are you in my house?” He asks again, in a normal voice this time, leaving Camila stumbling for an answer.
Her eyes can’t decide where to settle, the obvious safety hazard or the boy’s eyes. “I—Why do you have a taser?"
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe for when serial killers break into my house in the middle of the night."
"Oh, well, no serial killers—just me. Sorry to disappoint.”
Chris sighs as he turns off the weapon and runs a hand through his bed head, a habit Camila notices he and his sister share.
Safety hazard aside, it’s a lot less awkward until Chris actually takes in Camila’s choice of pajamas."
“Please don’t tell me you’re naked under Lauren’s jersey."
Camila just blushes, finally turns to grab the orange juice that’s been calling for her, taking her time to do so, and sips directly from the container in silence.
“Camila…”
“What?” She shrugs. "You said not to tell you.”
* * *
Camila doesn’t particularly love the smell of the locker rooms, or the locker rooms at all for that matter.
It’s even worse after game nights, but she’s not going to mention that with the whole team changing around her. She keeps her attention locked on the blue and yellow tiles that have suddenly become the most interesting things in the room. Occasionally, she can’t help but glance at Lauren while she’s pulling her jersey of her head. Hey eyes snap back down to the floor when a few teammates direct insinuating whistles at them.
Camila likes Lauren like this though, eyes gleaming to compliment their recent victory. She likes that Lauren still gets embarrassed when her team teases her and doesn’t bother making up some lame excuse for the blush on her face.
She likes the picture of their first trip to Disneyland together that Lauren keeps in her locker.
“She never stops talking about you, y’know. It’s annoying.” Bella mentions when she picks up her duffel bag on the bench next to Camila. Even with the sweat on her brow, she looks like a model considering she was running around a field less than an hour ago. “Not that you’re annoying. Lauren’s annoying. But you’ve probably figured that out by now.”
Camila chuckles and tilts her head to admire the redhead’s finesse. “Good things, I hope.”
“The best."
—
Camila likes Lauren like this, bickering with Sofi over which girl scout cookie is the best while they sell door to door. She thinks they’re both ridiculous, samoas are obviously better than thin mints and tagalongs.
Sofi has mastered the whole innocent look, pigtails and a smile the could split the Los Angeles asphalt. The one where she looks cute, but still exudes confidence and feminism.
Not a lot of people can resist an eight year old that wants to sell cookies and emphasize the importance of positive female leadership.
And if they do, well, Lauren makes for a good plan B.
—
Camila likes Lauren like this.
This isn’t what libraries are meant for, not that she’s complaining.
They’re going to be late for fourth period, but it’s not like U.S. Government is a class they would ever want to be on time for.
Camila’s eyes snap shut and she moans a little too loudly. Someone’s probably figured out what they’re doing by now and she can feel Lauren’s laugh against her hip.
Camila wants to slap that smug look off Lauren's face, she knows it’s there. But then Lauren’s laying soft kisses all over her and she knows she gets a little too lost in her post coital gaze to actually do anything about it.
—
Camila like Lauren like this.
Spending her Friday nights at the Brew, helping Shawn mop up the stage they use for the cafe’s regular performers and open mic nights, even though she really doesn’t have to. She’s never actually seen them acknowledge each other, but she knows they share a common interest in those underground bands that no one’s ever really heard of. Camila doesn’t know which song Lauren’s mumbling and Shawn’s humming the melody to, but she’s glad the microphones are still on to pick up their exclusive duet. It makes wiping down tables slightly more bearable.
Whenever she turns to look at Dinah, who’s been surprisingly punctual lately, she’s making some obscene gesture towards Lauren, and Camila just lets her because their shift ends in fifteen minutes and she loves both of them so much.
—
Camila likes Lauren like this, glasses teetering off the bridge of her nose and still half-asleep over her pancakes.
Her hair isn’t up yet and she won’t be nice until some caffeine kicks in, but Camila’s still tempted to kiss off the drowsiness from her pink lips.
“Four.”
"What?” The coffee hasn’t caught up to Lauren just yet.
“Four. To answer your question. You asked me how many kids I think we should have."
Lauren lets out a fake gasp with her hand over her mouth. “No way. You want to kiss me, and love me, and move in with me, and marry me, and fu-
“Get over yourself, Jauregui.”
“I would, but you’re way better at it.”
She kisses Lauren this time to shut her up.
“Don’t even deny it, Cabello.”
“I’m just going to give you the satisfaction of saying I do."
“Woah, save that for the wedding, Camz."
She likes Lauren like this.
The sun is touching everything and outlining every feature she adores so much. There’s a smudge of syrup highlighting her lips when she tells Camila that she looks beautiful.
In some future, their apartment has Lauren’s paintings on every wall and Camila’s outdated VHS tapes lined over the shelve with the books that they still need to finish. There’s something about the reality of them that she can’t wait for.
Camila looks up at Lauren from her plate and there’s a heaven-yellow glow behind her. She
wonders if Lauren knows that she looks beautiful in the light too.
Camila likes Lauren anyway she can get her, really.