Surreal Perfection (Camren)

Ch 19

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Going on tour is supposed to be incredible news, yet the cold sweat beading on my skin, is telling me otherwise.

Less than forty-eight hours ago, this would've been a dream come true.

And yet now, I'm going to be spending the next six months with the very person I'm planning on avoiding.

How the hell am I supposed to make it through the next six months?

After the emergency meeting, my head is still all over the place, but I do manage to stop at a store to pick up a new phone, on my way home.

As soon as I walk into my cold house, I beeline it straight for a jar of Nutella, and boot my laptop up for some much-needed Netflix.

As I'm sitting on the couch, and I look around my empty apartment, I decide that I'm spending this extended pre-tour break of ours here, under the covers, and I'm never leaving my house, unless I absolutely have to.

I congratulate myself for picking my broken pieces up more quickly this time around.

The first time Lauren murdered my heart, it took at least a week for me to set one foot out my door.

Maybe I'm just a jaded, heartbreak pro now?

Or maybe a part of me was expecting this to happen, because getting back together with her proved to be too easy, and oh, because Lauren's a lying, cheating bastard.

Right.

Anger; yes, I remember you.

Anger will get me through this, and the next seven months.

I glare at my defenseless new phone as it comes to life, and all my notifications start buzzing up a storm.

I only make it about five minutes, before I give in and pick it up.

All the messages from last night are filtering through, and as I scroll through them, a part of me's a little miffed that there aren't any messages from Lauren, from today.

I scoff a bit. What, giving up so easily?

Figures.

Bitterly, I wonder whether she's gonna run away again, like last time.

Shaking my head, I scold myself, because I shouldn't want her to be calling me.

I mean, I did tell her not to contact me, and not to even think of me, but it doesn't mean she should actually listen to me.

Even the mixed messages I'm giving myself start to annoy me, so I give up, and throw my phone to the side.

Fine, Lauren, don't grovel at my feet, I'm over it.

With a sigh, I get up and head for the kitchen. I realize that I'm fresh out of everything, including alcohol.

My stomach grumbles, so I rifle through my cupboards for anything remotely edible, and eventually turn up with nothing.

I hear my phone start ringing, and for a moment, I consider just letting it go, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I head back to the living room to see who's calling.

My hand freezes, as soon as I see the name on the screen.

It's a name I haven't seen pop up on my caller ID in a very long, long time.

I hesitate, with my thumb just hovering over the slider.

At the last second, I whisper 'fuck it', and pick up.