Gold Dust Woman

Chapter 10

Waffles.

That was the first thing Camila noticed – the strong scent of waffles breaking her out of her dream (nightmare?) about a giant ball pit swallowing her like quicksand and into a point of semi consciousness where the only sense she could make of the world was breakfast.

The next thing she noticed was a bright light fighting through her eyelids, slipping through no matter how tight she clamped them shut, and the light was enough to pull her out of her slumber completely. Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth and she felt like her brain was hammering against her skull; her skin was sticky and her stomach felt full – like somebody had poured concrete down her throat and let it settle in her gut – but also, waffles.

She let out a low groan the same time her stomach growled.

And that's when she realized she was not in her own apartment, not in her own bed, and waffles certainly did not cook themselves.

What the hell happened last night?

As soon as she took a deep breath into the sheets, the overwhelming smell of Lauren washed away the scent of the waffles, and it all came crashing back into her. Drinking, dancing, Lauren, yelling. She didn't remember much after Lauren pinning her to the refrigerator and sucking the tequila right off her tongue. Most of the night was fuzzy, right from the second drink, but after knocking in Lauren's door it was nothing but a blur.

She couldn't explain why her hair was wet or where her pants went or at what point she'd changed into one of Lauren's oversized t shirts.

Eventually, the smell of waffles won the battle against her hangover and Camila dragged herself from the blankets and out into the kitchen. She froze in the doorway when she caught sight of Lauren; it amazed her that the older girl could still empty her lungs without even trying, how she could somehow turn Camila's blood to ice and fire at the same time. All these years later and Camila still felt her nerve endings burn the moment she walked in the room; she felt her from her fingers to her toes and it made her sick because Lauren couldn't feel her back.

Never could. (Never did.)

She had an earbud in each ear, humming along to a song while she stacked waffle after waffle onto a plate. Her hair was messy – she hadn't brushed it yet – but it tumbled over her pale shoulders peeking out from her tank top kind of like the way the night sky swims across the pale light of the moon, and Camila felt her chest crack at the analogy when a thousand memories beat against her – she never would've thought astronomy could hurt so bad.

Camila didn't even realize how long she'd been staring until Lauren spoke.

"How long do you plan on just standing there before you come eat?" She said, without turning around or taking out an ear bud. Camila's cheeks burned – apparently Lauren could feel her after all.

"I, uh-" Camila coughed, "sorry'." She pulled her shirt down in a hopeless attempt to cover her legs, but when your legs are a mile long, a t shirt won't cut it.

"So, what exactly happened last night?" Camila asked when Lauren slid into the chair across from her, toting a pile of waffles in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other.

"You don't remember?"

Camila shook her head and pretended not to notice the way Lauren's face fell.

"Not much," she shrugged, falling short on her obvious attempt at nonchalance.

"I remember kissing you," Camila said, pulling at the edges of her shirt – Lauren's shirt – and Lauren's eyes widened at what she thought Camila was implying.