Riptide (a camren fic)

Chapter 7: 'look for the girl with the broken smile'

A/N: I SAID IT WOULD BE SOON. IT'S KIND OF SOON. A BIT DELAYED TO BE SOON. BUT STILL SOON. (apologies for any typos).

.

.

.

The first thing she's aware of is how close Lauren's face is.

Close enough that Camila feels the warm breath falling softly, tantalizing and teasing against her dry lips.

Close enough to trace the shape of Lauren's deep set eyes and study the malachite stone texture, with her own eyes.

Close enough that the distance becomes nearly nonexistent to the point that Camila's sure she can count how many eyelashes curtain green eyes if she tried hard enough.

God, she doesn't think she can try if she really wanted to because of the second thing she's suddenly aware of. And that's the soft hand that brushes delicately against hers. She feels Lauren's grip come around the beginnings of her forearm, before caressing an effortless pattern towards Camila's hand. Lauren's fingers pause at the back of her palm, and then settle loosely until her thumb begins tracing slow circles on Camila's inner wrist.

It creates a nervous, pleasant tingle in the pit of Camila's stomach. It creates a spread of light pinks and reds across her cheeks. It makes her hear heart leap and float down again, prompting her to become hyperaware of the third thing – Lauren's other hand.

Camila feels as Lauren's fingers pad gently up her arm, skimming it, and then a hot palm plants itself near her shoulder, cupping it, giving it a tentative squeeze.

She wasn't ready for this kind of skin to skin contact. She still isn't ready. And she most certainly was far from it the moment Lauren's left hand slides past her shoulders, running along the curve of her neck and settling loosely in her hair. She suppresses a groan as Lauren's fingers curl around a few locks.

Camila blames it on the aforementioned things. She blames it on the intoxicating smell of Lauren's breath. She blames it on the now intricate patterns being rubbed into her wrist. She blames it on the pleasant tug Lauren's fingers make in her hair for not noticing the bedroom door opening.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Lauren pulls away abruptly, in a way one does when they accidentally touch a hot pan.

They hadn't even touched lips. Camila had barely felt Lauren's nose, a feather light brush against hers before the overwhelming sensations of her presence was ripped away.

Camila blinks, slightly dazed, before meeting eyes with Lauren's younger brother.

"Chris?" Lauren's voice squeaks, rising an octave higher than her normal tone. From all the years Camila's known her, she recognizes this voice. She'd heard it the numerous times Lauren's siblings had gotten angry with her as a child after they'd notice their Oreo cookie crumbs all over her mouth. She'd heard it as Lauren tried to convince her parents that the mark on her neck wasn't a hickey but really a bruise from softball practice. She'd heard it when their old music teacher questioned Lauren about using the school's wifi to read One Direction smut.

(Really that one was Camila's fault).

It's the voice Lauren does when she's been caught doing something she clearly shouldn't be doing.

"What – uh – what are you doing home?" Lauren clears her throat and runs a hand through her hair.

Chris's eyes narrow. "You're the one who gave me a time limit with the car."

"I knew this was going to happen," Dinah mumbles. "I called it." She looks down at her nails, smug. "There's been a scissorception."

This breaks Camila out of her daze as she wrinkles her nose and turns to glare at Dinah.