Chapter 63

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Camila hated, with a passion, the anticipation of staring at a closed door two seconds after knocking. She hated the knowledge that for all of that time spent rehearsing, over and over, what she would say, that she would forget everything the moment she was faced with the opportunity. She was nervous, standing there, thinking of nothing and everything, staring, rather hopefully and absurdly at the wooden patterns of the door.

She thought of the drive back from the cabin. Anthony: driving in silent resignation. Camila: writing and rewriting an imaginary monologue. She would apologize to Lauren , she had decided, early on. She would explain a version of the truth that neither concealed nor revealed the actual reasons for her distance.

She thought of Anthony with a slight pang of regret. Regret for not having discovered that she didn't – and couldn't – love him the way he wanted. Regret for having parted the way they had: stuck in a series of awkward gestures and incomplete sentences. It was goodbye with uncertain punctuation. Goodbye? Goodbye ...

Goodbye.

And now, Camila was standing there, waiting, waiting for a chance to explain, however vaguely, that she was confused and scared; torn between knowing and not wanting to know. She was not there to confess, but merely to apologize for being a coward.

The door opened, finally, and Camila tensed with anticipation. "Hi," she said, when she saw Lauren standing there in the open doorway. She wanted to say so much more than that, but as expected, she had forgotten the words she'd settled on. They had abandoned her, the way her breath had abandoned her when Lauren had looked at her.

"Camila ," Lauren said with surprise. "I thought you were—"

"I was," Camila interrupted quickly. "Can we talk?" It was at that moment that Camila realized that Lauren wasn't alone.

Normani.

The date.

How selfish of her to have forgotten, how incredibly self-centered. "Sorry. It's a bad time," she said, feeling embarrassed and out of place. She hadn't rehearsed this part. She didn't know what to do.

"Camila, are you okay?" Lauren asked gently, looking at Camila's face carefully.

Could Lauren tell that she'd been crying? Was it obvious?

Normani appeared beside Lauren before Camila had a chance to reply. "I should get going," she announced. "I have an early meeting tomorrow with the producers." She looked at Lauren and smiled. "I'll call you?"

Lauren nodded. "Okay," she added, as if the act of nodding wasn't enough.

"Bye, Camila," Normani said politely, and retreated down the hall.

Camila felt like an intruder. She couldn't remember ever feeling so embarrassed, so out of place. "I'm so sorry about that," she said, the moment the director disappeared into the elevator. "I completely forgot about your date."

Lauren shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about," she said. "Come in."

Camila tried not to imagine what she might have interrupted. She entered the apartment and looked around, as if expecting things to be different. She noticed the broken glass on the kitchen floor and stared at it in surprise. "What happened there?" she asked.

Lauren came up beside her and sighed.

"I'm just a klutz, that's all," she answered. She turned to Camila and stared at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

Everything, Camila wanted to say. Everything was wrong. "I couldn't do it," she said, instead. It hadn't been what she'd come here to say. She didn't want to talk about Anthony and their failed romance. She had merely wanted to say, I'm sorry for not calling you. I'm sorry for not keeping our date. I don't really understand why I stayed away. Please don't ask me to explain. But everything started to topple out of her mouth before she could stop it. "We were on the bed, in this beautiful cabin in the woods, and ... I just froze."

"It was your first time, it's understandable," Lauren told her.

Camila shook her head. "No, it wasn't timing. It wasn't even fear or nervousness. I just didn't want him. At all. I should've at least felt something, right?" She glanced up into green eyes, which Camila was certain had flickered with something.

What? What are you thinking, Lauren ?

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"No," Lauren answered. "You just didn't want him."

Camila nodded. "Right," she agreed. It was normal. It was fine. "But I didn't want Nathan, either," she admitted. "Maybe I'm asexual."

"Yes, that's probably what it is," Lauren agreed with a smile. "Join the nunnery."

Camila smiled, too. She remembered what she'd come to say and said it. "I'm really sorry about the past week. I was a jerk." She stared at the floor, unable to meet Lauren's gaze; knowing that no matter what she said, it would be a lie. "I wasn't thinking clearly."

"You had a lot on your mind," Lauren said.

"With Anthony and everything. It's okay."
Lauren's words filled Camila with guilt. She wanted, more than anything, to admit the truth. But it would make things awkward and uncomfortable, and she still wasn't sure if what she felt was real. "I hurt you."

"I'll live," Lauren assured her. "I understand."

Camila wanted to cry, standing there, feeling torn and confused, hating her uncertainty, and still holding on to it for dear life. She swallowed back the tears, not wishing to explain her emotions. "I'm a mess," she admitted, in spite of herself.

Lauren stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Camila , hugging her tightly.
Camila closed her eyes, relaxing into Lauren's body. She could smell the vanilla sweetness of Lauren's perfume. Or maybe it was the natural scent of her skin.

Everything about Lauren was soft and warm. Camila wanted the hug to last forever.

But it was Lauren who broke the contact first. "If you think you're a mess, you should've seen me earlier," she said with a slight smile. She nodded toward the glass on the floor.

"I'm sure you were charmingly dorky." Camila grinned.

Lauren laughed. "I'm not sure I could pull that off."

"Dorky?"

"No, charming," Lauren answered, sounding shy.

"Just dorky then," Camila teased. She motioned toward the kitchen. "Come on, let's get that mess cleaned up."

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