after this night (camren)

22. Camila

averagely long chapter ahead, idk?

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because in another few hours, Camila would be in my house.

......

As the plane began its descent, I flashed back on the last five days. They'd consisted of otters, poker prep, and packing for New York.

Ally had waltzed into work on Wednesday announcing she'd gone with the otters for the baby's nursery, and minutes later she'd left early when she thought she was having contractions.

Turned out she'd just had heartburn, but I didn't mind shouldering her extra load at Cubic Z because the week had been blissfully uneventful. After Lauren's talk with Austin that past Sunday, I had operated in a sort of protective cocoon. No one, neither Austin, not Squirrel, nor that asshole Brad had bothered me, and they hadn't gone near Taylor or Ally either.

I'd played online poker in my free time, fiddling around too with some poker apps on my phone just to keep my skills sharp for Saturday's big game. I knew a few extra hours on a screen weren't going to make the difference. Luck would be a deciding factor, but I also had to be sharper than the rest of the players at Lauren's game - the actor Veronica Iglesias, who was about to open a new restaurant; the cable TV show producer Jay Klausman, whose show on drug dealers, Powder, was a huge hit; and Lauren's friend Luis. I'd researched Klausman and Iglesias and found bits and pieces of intel on their card-playing skills. The actor was a Leonardo DiCaprio style player, someone who bet big and played for fun, but Jay, a shrewd producer, was the bigger threat. The wild card, though, was Luis. I had a hunch he'd be the one to beat. A man like that, used to taking chances and possessing some kind of magical touch - he was going to be trouble.

This was the kind of trouble I thrived on though, and I was ready, reviewing my strategy once more as I walked through the terminal.

Lauren had a last-minute meeting with a client, so I hailed a cab into Los Angeles. She'd left the keys for me with the guy who owned the coffee shop next door to her building, and I was secretly grateful that I wouldn't have to see her the second I arrived. There was nothing quite like washing off a six-hour plane ride. When I reached her apartment, I opened the door, locked it behind me, and soaked in the silence and the oddly welcoming feel of her place. The last time I'd been here I bolted. Now, I felt like I belonged. She hadn't left a welcome basket on the dining room table, but the simple fact that she'd left the key said all I needed to know about her - trust. It was given, and it was shared, and there were no questions asked.

She trusted me. I trusted her.

I dropped my suitcase on the bedroom floor, and patted the side, touching the outline of the gift I'd picked out for her that was safely tucked inside. I shed my clothes and stepped under a hot shower.

As I wrapped a towel around myself ten minutes later, I didn't feel any pull to sift through her drawers or paw through the medicine cabinet. I wasn't a snooper, and there was nothing I needed to hunt out in her place. Besides, she was the definition of an open book, and there was something so reassuring about knowing that intrinsically. With Shawn, there were moments when he'd seemed a little shifty, from a joke here about not needing to report all the income he made from Austin, to a little moment there when he'd told a story about stealing a milkshake glass from a diner in college. Fine, those were college hijinks, but as I looked back with 20/20 vision I could see hints of who he was.

Lauren was the opposite - she didn't hide. She put herself out there from the start. No bullshit, and hell, I could use that in my life.

I hung up the towel, rubbed lotion on my legs, and went straight for her closet. Not to snoop, but to choose an outfit. I didn't need to rifle through my suitcase for jeans and a camisole when I knew what she wanted me in.