something better. | calum hood

1 : what's it like in california?

CAMILLA
January 2022

Fresh from the airport with a suitcase in her backseat was not how she wanted to pull up to Briar's house.

Briar, despite being a producer and a creative — was all pragmatism when push came to shove. Which Cam both appreciated and was terrified of for the exact reason of knowing that she was one of the only people Cam could expect to be 100% straight with her, 100% of the time — at least, one of the only people in L.A.

So pulling up to her fancy L.A house, with its fancy L.A windows and doorbell cameras feels a little like being called into the principal's office. And when Briar answers in her on-trend cable-knit sweater and distressed jeans, Cam can't help but feel vastly underdressed in her brother's UVM sweatshirt and sweatpants.

Maybe the eight hour flight is what's left her so self-conscious.

"Cami!" Briar's smile is bright and she opens her arms to give her a hug. "How was the flight?"

"Long. God I hate layovers," Cam replies with a groan, and Briar just gives her a sympathetic smile and a squeeze of the shoulder.

"Well you're here in one piece so, silver linings."

"Silver linings." Cam parrots, as Briar ushers her inside and mutters about taking off her shoes at the door.

Briar Lockwood was the producer behind her first album and probably the only person on the face of the Earth that Cam truly, wholly trusted to handle her art. She had this whole thing about not compromising where you didn't have to — and not forcing Cam into a "pop princess" archetype in order to sell albums.

Before that, she and Cash had recorded both of her EPs in his basement, because she just didn't trust the producers she'd met with to handle her music with the care that she did.

The blonde gestures to her couch and Cam takes a seat as Briar makes her way over to the mini fridge. Seltzer for herself and a coke for Cam, passing the can over and beginning to talk over the crrack of the can.

"Aaron said the trip was pretty spur-of-the-moment."

"Something like that," Cam offers in reply. "I mean I was planning to go back for the holidays anyway and since I wrote most of the songs there too, I dunno... I guess I was hoping I'd strike some inspiration back home." She takes a sip from the can, fizz popping on her tongue and burning on the swallow.

Bless her manager's heart, because when she called Aaron and asked about her schedule for December she could hear the dread in his voice. But she'd explained it to him — how she needed to go home, needed the familiarity that came with Vermont's overcast and chilly winter air. She missed her parents and her brother. She missed being able to write.

"And did you?"

Cam grimaces.

Briar looks at her with that expectant stare — brows raised, lips pressed into a line.

"I have... beginnings—"

"Cami."

"I know! I know. Needs a middle and an end it's just..." she sets the can down on the coaster and starts drumming her fingers on her knee. "Do you ever feel like you have so much to say that you don't know where to start?"