A cool wind had picked up, blowing her long hair around her face. Camila brought up a hand and tucked the loose strands behind her ear as she leant against the metal railing, breathing in the midmorning sea air. The subtle smell of gasoline reached her senses as a smile crept across her slightly chapped lips. She closed her eyes, the bright sunlight swimming just beneath her lids. It was calming. The freeing, almost weightless feeling spread through to her chest, and had her breathing easier with each intake. The sound of seagulls and distant horns from passing boats met her ears just as two arms slipped around her waist, pulling her close.
Camila sighed into the embrace, turning her head to softly brush her cheek against cool olive skin. The girl giggled, tightening her hold and resting her chin on Camila's shoulder. The brunette brought her eyes back to the water, the Harbour Bridge stretching out before her and beyond to Luna Park. The view was beautiful. Tourists and locals crowded the port's edge, and further right toward the Opera House. It was busy, yet an overwhelming sense of calm was in the air. Camila had been to many cities in her life, from Paris and New York to Saigon and more recently Johannesburg. But there was something about Sydney with its blue waters and white sandy beaches that just held a different pace for her. She hugged her leather jacket tighter against the cold, her eyes still on the horizon.
"Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way," the brunette murmured softly in her ear, breaking Camila away from the view. "But your girlfriend is really weird."
"I heard that."
Camila and Alex both turned at the sound of that voice, the girl's tone holding a hint of amusement. Lauren was standing with Alex's boyfriend, Jeremy, a few feet away by an old street lamp, her Nikon in her grasp. That smile was lighting her features, sending a warmth to Camila's chest as her lips pulled up to mirror hers. Both girls giggled, Camila turning in Alex's arms with a grin.
"Yeah, I know," she smirked, glancing at Lauren as she spoke. "But she's so good in bed."
"I heard that too," Lauren stated, making her way over to them with that smile still in place.
"You're not the only one," Alex deadpanned, passing her on her way back to Jeremy. The dark-haired man opened his arms, hugging his girlfriend tight and placing a small kiss to her forehead as they began to walk away, leaving the two girls alone.
"Hey you," Lauren chirped, placing her hands on the railing either side of Camila's hips.
"Hi," she breathed, gently pushing forward to capture her lips. Lauren hummed contently into her mouth as Camila brought her left hand up to rest on her cheek, her thumb brushing over soft skin. Lauren broke the kiss after a moment, only to press her lips to the inside of Camila's wrist and over subtle dark ink. She smiled at the loving gesture, her eyes going down to the same two words etched on Lauren's right wrist, her bare skin in plain sight just below her white knitted pullover.
Three weeks.
They'd been talking about getting them for a while, the small tattoos serving as a reminder of when they first met. But in true Lauren style, it wasn't until they were passing their local parlour one afternoon a few months back that she'd dragged her inside. That was one thing that had never changed. It had been nearly a year since the dance studio and Lauren had never stopped being that girl. The one that did everything at the drop of a hat, and the one Camila fell for all those years ago.
"You're just lucky that I love you," Lauren murmured, running her fingertips over the two darkened words. Camila watched those fingers brush across her skin, a lazy smile tugging at her lips at the calming feeling.
"And why's that?"
"Because your cursive is absolutely terrible," Lauren teased, bringing her own wrist up between them. Camila lowered hers from Lauren's cheek, smirking at the clear difference in the handwriting. At the time it seemed romantic when Lauren told her she wanted Camila to be the one to write the words. And she'd agreed, knowing that hers would be in that same neat cursive as her note and of the journal Lauren had kept.
