All These Years | Camren

Begining

You're certain that Camila is probably enjoying her honeymoon stage with Shawn.

It's a week after Valentines, you haven't interacted with her, not since the Hollywood sign, not since, well...you know.

You also haven't looked out the window since the day you saw them leave in Shawns Jeep and ride away into the sunset.

By now you've created a routine, same as always, that keeps you occupied enough to not think about stressful things.

Not think about, Camila, mostly.

Your time is juggled between dancing with Normani, tutoring Keaton in pretty much everything, art class with Ally, and if there's still some free time between all of that, then you just add more dancing.

Which is what's happening right now.

It's 5:00pm on a friday and you plan on staying in the dance room, perfecting your solo routine for the Swan Lake recital, happening two months from now. You've actually had it perfectly choreographed for about a week but, you rather spin around in the dance room than have thoughts  of a specific someone spinning around your head.

You do ten pirouettes, only ten, because when you're grabbing momentum for the eleveth one both of your feet react before the rest of your body does.

You stop.

Momentum gone.

Camila is standing in the dance room door.

"Hey."

You try to say hey back but your breathing is completely messed up so you end up coughing, and between coughs you get a chance to say "hi". Smooth as always Jauregui.

"I was helping mom bring in the groceries..."

Of course.

"...and I heard the music. I've always wanted to see you dance. Although, I don't really know anything about dancing, all I have of knowledge are the dance battles of Americas Best Dance Crew, but....those spins you just did were... insane."

"Ouh uh, you mean, pirouettes,"

She chuckles, "...and definitely far from 'crew' material."

Suddenly, she's inside.

She's inside the room where you've released every memory of her. She's walking on the floors you've let tears of passion, anger, care and ignorance fall shamelessly.

She walks towards the barre in the left side of the room and leans on it, you're watching her through the reflection of the large mirror that covers the entire wall.

Camila usually dresses the same way. Skinny jeans, a T-shirt or a hoodie, and some beat up converse.

"So this is your little hide away? How much time do you usually spend here?"

"Like four hours a day," you say as you take a large gulp of water, and you're pretty sure that even the people outside of the room can see the way Camila is looking at you.

Her eyes are all over your barely covered body, and she doesn't stop looking at you, all over, until you practically make her stop with your question.