there's a big old moon shining down at night

Chapter 3

It's almost a week after Pride before Camila sees Lauren again. She means for it to be longer, truly – she's still not sure how to broach the subject of Lauren basically carrying her home and putting her to bed, seeing Camila act god only knows how ridiculous – but six days after she snuck out of the woman's house like a teenager, she finds herself staring at a very expensive sink that refuses to drain.

She could deal with it herself. There's probably a plumber or a handyman in town somewhere, and she could likely find them with a google search. But somehow, she ends up finding a completely different contact name instead.

"Jauregui Auto Shop, Lauren speaking!"

Lauren's voice, warm and soothing even through a phone line, makes Camila's stomach sweep, and she has to clear her throat before she can speak.

"Lauren, hi. It's Camila."

"Hey!" Lauren says, clearly enthused. The happy tone makes Camila relax a little bit, and she feels a bit like a teenager, calling her crush and twirling the landline cord around her finger. "Long time no talk."

There's no disapproval or upset in her voice, but even so Camila feels the need to apologize. "Yes, I'm...sorry about that. I just -"

"Oh, it's okay," Lauren says easily, and Camila can see in her mind's eye the casual wave Lauren is probably doing. "What can I do ya for?"

"Well...my sink isn't working," Camila says haltingly, and Lauren snorts.

"You know I'm not a plumber, right?"

Camila's cheeks turn pink, and even though she knows Lauren can't see it, she feels a bit embarrassed anyways. "I know, I just thought – well, I don't know the businesses around here. I thought you could help me out?"

Camila hears the scratchy sound of the receiver being covered, and a muffled yell on the other line. After a moment, Lauren comes back sounding cheery.

"I'll be there in a couple minutes!"

"Oh, no, you don't have to – you're at work, I just thought maybe you could recommend –"

"Don't be silly. I can fix it, just give me a minute to grab my toolbox, okay?"

Lauren hangs up without confirmation. As the dial tone sounds in her ear, she looks around – at her messy kitchen, at her own pajamas and slippers and messy hair – and suddenly her body kicks into overdrive.

"Shit," she mutters, throwing the phone onto the table. "Shit." She has approximately 15 minutes before Lauren gets here, and she has to get herself ready faster than she ever has before.

She changes in a whirlwind, grabbing the first sundress she can find and throwing her hair into a bun. She brushes her teeth while she frantically tidies the kitchen, the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth precariously, and by the time the doorbell rings she's feeling at least borderline presentable, putting the cap on her contact solution.

She opens the door to Lauren in cargo pants, a dirty tank top and a red flannel, and she hates how much it works for her.

"Lauren! Come on in," Camila says, trying to keep her voice even, but Lauren just stares at her for a moment, blinking.

After a few seconds, Camila frowns. "Are you okay?"

Lauren startles, shaking her head like she's trying to get rid of cobwebs. "Yeah! Yeah, I just...I've never seen you with your hair up before."

It takes Camila a second to figure out why that sentence seems so strange. Back home, she's almost never without her trademark tight bun or high ponytail, to the point where Harry started worrying that she was going to make herself bald with all the hair-pulling. She hadn't realized, until now, how much she's been wearing her hair down since she got here. It just feels natural.