This, I Love

Chapter 9: Calming Down

February 26th, 1985

Leg one of the 'Reinventing Crossroads' tour was over tonight, and then it was straight onto another tour for three weeks with Black Sabbath. The band was exhausted, but to keep them going, apart from the obvious drug usage, Ashley instilled in their minds that the hard part was over and although it isn't a break at least they won't be working as hard at this time. Opening for another band wasn't the same as performing a full set, therefore there should still be a lot of energy left to bang out and NO excuses or complaints on her radar—especially since after their three weeks was up, they'd have a month long break waiting for them.

The only person ready to throw in the towel and leave wasn't the one in the band but rather the one fucking two members of the band. Or one now, since she was certain her time with Camila was over. These past few days tested her strength and capability to keep up with her charade and control her emotions as she watched the latest groupie, Brooke Nasti, replace her and keep the guitarist's bed warm at night. Camila continued to ignore her unless it couldn't be helped and communication was required to keep the drama and suspicions of others at bay, but even that was painstakingly brief and torturously vague. And if Camila was about to encounter some alone time, she'd pivot and see to it that Brooke took up every second of that freedom so that the opportunities to corner her once and for all stopped landing in Lauren's lap.

She put in the effort to make it work with Colt, and their relationship was getting better. He wasn't fixated on anything else but Lauren and repairing what they had—making it even better than before so that she'd be in too deep to ever leave him. He was lovebombing her, but she didn't have an issue with it. It was his constant complaining and the vomiting of his insecurities and deepest fears from Camila's name taking over the spotlight that irked her. Lauren was his primary source of confidence now; she could feel it in her gut that his lovebombing and the sudden excess of clinginess was mainly just to make himself feel better and less to make her feel desired. If Colt was the only thing Lauren saw, if he were the only star in her sky, she'd be completely distracted from the other rising star, and that was his reassurance that he was still the only one that mattered. And if Lauren was the only thing that Colt saw, if she were the only star in his sky, she would refrain from falling and dying out so soon. So, ultimately, it didn't matter that he was selfish and a big baby lately, because so was she, and she needed him to need her just enough to kill the possibility of being replaced by some random groupie again.

Lauren was beginning to believe Camila was far too fickle and unstable to keep what they had going, so in a way she was dodging a bullet. If the guitarist truly knew the circumstances and what'd be required of Lauren to stay on the tour and continue to see her behind Colt's back, then she shouldn't be throwing fits and doing constant 180s on Lauren each time something went down between her and Colt. It showed Camila's maturity and lack of understanding. But what a shame because despite the repulsion and bitter judgements, Lauren's heart only grew—bursting every so often with tainted love and anguished longing for the woman who only knew how to pick it up without longevity in her grip. She loved her. She craved her reciprocation. Camila was everything to her.

She felt less of a person watching Brooke hold Camila's hand, keeping her at close proximity as they'd scandalously leave a dressing room or the empty tour bus after disappearing from the band for longer than Lauren could tolerate picturing them together—counting the minutes and timing each encounter so that she'd know what to expect or could make more accurate assumptions about what they could be doing. And whenever she'd witness Camila smile or chuckle at the fault of Brooke, she told herself that they were fake. And if she caught them fiercely making out backstage or heard the faint sounds of rustling and harmonious groans in the deep hours of collective sleep within the bunks, she'd mentally check out and go somewhere else just to withstand the pain.