Falling is the easy part (Camren)

27

Lauren:

I was stood outside of Camila's house before I even really knew what I was doing. It was like some kind of automatic reaction, like my legs had just carried me here without any real conscious thought. Whatever it was, I was here, looking up at the red brick house in front of me, identical to those on either side. Except this one's special.

This one houses the girl I love.

For the second morning in a row I'd woken up fully clothed, head a little worse for wear, with my phone millimetres from my fingertips. Only this morning was different to yesterday. For one my sister was stood over me, wielding a broken pair of heels and jabbering on about something to do with us leapfrogging the side gate. And secondly, I wasn't mad at Camila, I was mad at myself.

I have something to do.

I'd acted like an idiot. I'd promised Camila that I was going to be here for her no matter what, that I was going to support her through all of this, and then I went an played the jealous girlfriend. On her big night too.

I need to make this up to her.

And I have to make sure that she knows just how much she means to me.

What Taylor said yesterday as we devoured most of the stock of The Rovers really struck a nerve. If even my dim-witted sister could see I was acting unreasonably then I must have been a twat. Camila had tears in her eyes for God's sake. Because of me. I have to fix this.

What was it Taylor told me to do? Apologise, tell her I love her, be romantic, shag her brains out. I can manage that. Well, I know I can manage the final one, but that's not the one that matters.

Not now anyway.

I glanced down at what I was wearing and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back over my head. I was so desperate to do this right, to make it perfect for Camila, that I'd let Taylor interfere with my appearance this morning. She'd called it helping rather than interfering though. Although now I'm not entirely sure. I feel a bit of a prat. And definitely too over-dressed for a Sunday afternoon. Taylor had leant me a top to wear that she'd insisted makes me look 'almost as fuckable as her' and told me to wear my skinny jeans too. Apparently she'd read somewhere that lesbians like them.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to encourage her. I probably look ridiculous. And if Camila's still pissed off with me then I'm sure she doesn't care how 'fuckable' my boobs and legs look.

Oh sod it, I'm not going home to change. Not when I'm this close. Glancing quickly up and down the road, I crossed over and found myself outside Camila's front door, arm poised ready to knock.

Three.

Two.

I can do this. It's only three little words. And once I've told her, everything can be awesome again and we can be awesome together again. And I'll be better too. Be more supportive and that. Ready?

One.

I knocked twice on the door and waited. My heart was racing. And my head. This is crazy, it's only Camila. Why am I so nervous?