My Favorite Camren One-Shots

Sonder

Have you ever stopped to realize that each and every single person in this world has their own unique, personal story that, in order to truly understand, relies on only but the amount of complexities that we as individuals are exposed to? 

Sonder is what it’s called.

Sonder is when that cruel math teacher of yours calls in sick for the day, and you and your classmates celebrate his absence without fully knowing that the reason he called in sick was because his brother passed away. 

Sonder is when the guy in the subway falls asleep on your shoulder. You think it’s funny that he could so easily fall asleep on such a bumpy form of transportation, but you don’t know that he stayed up all night studying for finals for a class that he was on the verge of failing, and any place was a place to rest.

Sonder is when Lauren met Camila. Lauren always heard rumors about the brown-eyed girl– how she almost died once from nearly overdosing on cocaine at a party, how she slashed the tires on her ex-boyfriend’s precious Range Rover Sport, and how she almost got arrested for skinny dipping at the beach.

Lauren didn’t necessarily believe these rumors considering she did not at all know Camila on any personal base whatsoever, but she liked to think that what people told her about the brown-eyed girl were true. Lauren had a very odd and mystery-stricken figment of Camila in her mind, and she liked how every unconfirmed rumor of the brunette remained unconfirmed. She intended for each and every single one of them to stay that way.

That was… until she accidentally met her on purpose.

—-

“Aw, fuck,” Lauren sighed, exasperated as she flipped through the pile of mail she had just picked up from her mailbox. “These idiots always do this.”

“What?” Dinah questioned as she played with the cereal in her bowl of milk. 

“They gave us the Cabello mail on accident. When will the Postmen ever realize that 6 and 9 are two completely different numbers?” Lauren asked, annoyed.

“What’s the problem? Just stick it back in their mailbox,” Dinah nearly laughed, Lauren clearly stressed herself out for no reason.

“I know,” Lauren rolled her eyes. “It’s just that this task actually takes physical effort, and I don’t appreciate it one bit.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll stay here and watch your sandwich while you’re gone,” Dinah smiled, childishly.

“Their house is literally down the street,” Lauren furrowed her eyebrows.

“Times-a-tickin’,” Dinah urged, and Lauren took her persistence as a cue to take her leave.

—-

It was fairly early on a Saturday. Lauren figured that the chances of a Cabello resident seeing her open their mailbox were slim to none, so she really didn’t have any problem with returning their mail to them, just as long as they didn’t catch her. She wanted to avoid as much interaction with them as possible.

It was ridiculous how often Lauren stopped by to return mail. Lauren found herself in front of the Cabello mailbox more often than not, so this routine became rather familiar for her. She just walked out to her front lawn, picked up her mail, separated the Jauregui pile from the Cabello pile, walked out and down the street to the Cabello mailbox, and returned the mail there. It was usually that quick and easy.

Not today, though. 

“Are you lost?” a voice startled Lauren, causing for her to drop all the mail on the concrete ground.