Page 66 of Loving Lauren
Across the room, a ripple of emotion moved through the students. One woman murmured that her cousin had gone through something similar. A young man walked over to Lauren’s table and whispered, “Me, too.”
Sierra stayed at the front, her heartbeat still unsteady, her body taut with the effort of holding professional composure while every part of her wanted to cross the room, touch Lauren’s hand, and tell them she’d heard every word.
Eventually, the room emptied until it was just Sierra and Lauren, surrounded by art supplies and the lingering emotional weight of what had happened.
“I didn’t tell you I was coming because I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it.” Lauren’s eyes didn’t quite meet Sierra’s. “I didn’t want to upset you or make this about us, but I knew I needed to be here. I hope it’s okay if I keep coming. I don’t know of any other program like it, and I truly need it.”
Sierra felt something shift in her chest as she really looked at Lauren, maybe for the first time since they’d walked back into her life. She could see the scared sixteen-year-old in their posture, the adult trying so hard to heal, the person she’d fallen in love with, still learning how to stay in one place when things got difficult.
She reached out and touched Lauren’s arm. “Of course you can stay. This class is for anyone who needs it.”
They walked out of the community center side by side, not saying much but connected in a way that felt different from their careful Tuesday morning coffee dates. Both of them were healing; both of them were learning. Neither was running away.
Chapter 41
Tuesday rolled around again, and Sierra found herself walking toward the coffee shop despite every rational voice in her head telling her this was a mistake. The coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning energy, but Sierra felt anything but settled. She’d claimed a corner table. Not their old one, she wasn’t ready for that level of familiarity—and sat nursing her latte while pretending to read Aperture magazine. Her eyes kept drifting to the door, a habit she both craved and resented. Part of her hoped Lauren wouldn’t show up, would spare her this weekly emotional minefield. The other part feared they wouldn’t come, and that fear scared her more than anything.
When Lauren finally walked in, their eyes met instantly across the crowded space. No awkward pause this time, no careful navigation of whether they should acknowledge each other. Just this soft, familiar smile that made Sierra’s chest feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the coffee.
Lauren slid into the booth, already peeling off thick wool gloves and unwrapping the oversized scarf that had beenprotecting them from the wind. There was something steadier about them today, something that made Sierra’s chest unclench.
Lauren began without preamble. “Ever since that Hawaii shoot brought me into Jonas’ orbit, I’ve been absolutely booked solid. Like, more work than I know what to do with. I actually have almost enough saved to have top surgery if I want it, but I don’t know if I do. I’m a little terrified of the thought; I can’t forget what happened to my mom. There’s so many things that can go wrong.”
Sierra’s eyebrows lifted with genuine concern. “That sounds terrifying, but you don’t have to figure it out alone. Ask every question you can. Make sure you feel safe with whatever choice you make.”
“It’s surreal, having a financial goal for once in my life and actually reaching it. Hard to believe I was homeless not that long ago. Meeting you and Jonas gave me a way forward I didn’t think I’d find.” Lauren paused, then tilted their head with a mischievous expression Sierra remembered from their early days together. “But can I ask you something? Jonas was in a bind when he called me for that shoot, wasn’t he? But he also chose me specifically on purpose?”
Sierra couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, he absolutely did. He gave me this whole spiel about being desperate for a makeup artist, but I could see right through him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he admitted it.”
Lauren leaned forward. “You didn’t murder him, did you?”
Sierra burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in her chest. “I considered it. Actually, I marched into his office and confronted him, but I ended up giving him the evil eye and then hugging him.”
“That sounds about right.” Lauren chuckled, and they both smiled at each other, with a gentle, unspoken understanding hanging in the air between them.
The barista called out someone’s complicated order, breaking the spell. Sierra glanced at her phone, realizing she needed to leave soon.
She grabbed her camera bag. “Speaking of Jonas and his schemes, I’ve got to run to do a shoot with him. Some kind of editorial thing for a local magazine. Will I see you at class tomorrow night?”
Lauren nodded. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it. It’s the first time I’ve had somewhere safe to let this out instead of carrying it around alone.” They hesitated, then went on. “Actually, I’ve been seeing a therapist for a few months. Dr. Martinez at the clinic pointed me her way. She’s the one who told me about your healing-through-art class. Said it might give me a safe place to work through things. She also got me journaling, which I swore I’d hate, but I don’t. She’s helped me see my abandonment patterns and taught me how to sit with the feeling instead of running from it. She also connected me to a support group. Just other trans folks talking about life stuff. It’s all been really helpful.”
Sierra felt her face soften; her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “That’s wonderful, Lauren. I’m proud of you for doing that work.”
Her hand twitched before she even realized what she was doing, the impulse stronger than the voice in her head telling her not to. She reached across the small table and let her fingers rest over Lauren’s knuckles, warm and gentle and so unexpected that both of them froze, eyes locked on the point of contact.
The moment stretched between them, heavy with careful hope. But almost immediately, Sierra’s chest tightened with panic. This was exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’tdo. Her pulse jumped in her throat, not with romance but with alarm. She was crossing the line she’d drawn, falling back into old patterns that had destroyed her once before.
“I’m sorry!” She jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned. “I shouldn’t have—that wasn’t—” She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. “I should go.”
Lauren’s face fell, but they nodded with understanding. “Sierra, wait. It’s okay. We don’t have to—”
“No, it’s not okay.” Sierra’s voice was tight with self-recrimination. “I said friends. I meant friends. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I should head out.”
Lauren’s expression was understanding but disappointed. “Sierra, it’s okay. We don’t have to define anything. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” Sierra said quickly, then shook her head. “Yes, you did. Not intentionally, but... I can’t keep doing this dance with you. One minute I think I can handle being friends, the next I’m...” She gestured helplessly at the table. “This is exactly what I was afraid would happen.”
As Sierra walked toward the door, she could feel Lauren watching her leave, but this time it didn’t thrill her. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable. For the first time since their coffee shop meetings began, she was questioning whether she could actually do this. Whether seeing Lauren every week was healing or just another way of torturing herself.
