The lights above the elevator door lit up with each passing floor and Camila focused on the shapes of the numbers as they came to life. She didn't remember getting here. She didn't remember buying the two cups of coffee she was now holding. She remembered her bedroom. She remembered not being able to fall asleep. She remembered rehearsing what she would say to Lauren, rearranging the words, waiting for the right combination to reveal itself.
The elevator dinged softly; another floor gone by and she still didn't know what she would say. She could turn back; there was still time to change her mind. But then what? Did she want to go from day to day, swallowing her feelings? Wasn't it better to put it out there and move on? She didn't know.
She watched the numbers and willed her heart to slow down. She would do this. She would admit her feelings and face the awkwardness that would follow. She would assure Lauren that it changed nothing; that they could continue to be friends. Eventually, Lauren would return to California and they could resume their emails – or, more likely, lose contact altogether – and at some point, these feelings would fade or better yet, move on to someone else. But she would always have this day; the day she put her fears aside and took control of her life.
The doors opened and she stepped out, colliding almost immediately with the person standing there. She managed, somehow, to keep the coffee from spilling as she struggled to regain her balance. "I'm so sorry, I-" She froze as she looked up. It took her a second to register that it was Normani standing there, dressed in wrinkled clothes and reeking of alcohol.
Camila's gaze flashed quickly to Lauren's door and a feeling she didn't recognize rose up inside her, dark and overwhelming.
"Camila!" Normani sounded as surprised as Camila felt. "Hi! I um..." She seemed to be searching for an excuse as to why she was standing there at this hour.
They'd spent the night together. That's all Camila could think as she looked at Normani. They spent the night together. Camila suddenly felt ill. What was the right thing to do now? Jump back in the elevator and ride down with Normani? No, that would be too awkward. "I just wanted to ask Lauren a quick question about this art project she hired me for," she said.
"Is she in?" There. That was casual. It didn't scream, "I just came by to tell your girlfriend that I want her."
"I think she was in the shower when I left, but she's home." Normani moved to block the elevator doors from closing.
Camila tried not to dwell on the fact that Normani had been in Lauren's apartment, that it only served to confirm her suspicions. She couldn't think about that right now. She focused instead on how ridiculous it felt to be standing there with two cups of coffee; how obvious and transparent it made her feel. "Um, would you like one of these? They gave me an extra one by mistake."
"Yeah?" Normani accepted the cup with something that resembled relief. "Thank you. That's really sweet." She sighed. "I drank way too much last night and I'm a mess and I really have to be at the studio and... sorry, you really don't need to hear any of this. It was really nice running into you again. Literally." She laughed as she backed away into the elevator.
"Yeah, it was." So nice.
"Thanks again!"
Camila forced a smile that vanished the second the elevator doors closed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror that remained and shook her head. Now what? Talking to Lauren was out of the question. Normani knew she'd been there, so leaving was out of the question.
"Crap." She felt like kicking something; herself preferably.
"Hey, you left your..."
Camila whirled around at the sound of Lauren's voice.
