Page 21 of Loving Lauren
For the next hour, she barely registered the film. All she could think about was the press of Lauren’s hand against hers. The way her thumb occasionally brushed Sierra’s knuckles like it meant something. Like maybe it meant everything.
When the credits rolled, Jett sat up and pointed at the screen. “Okay, what was that ending? Who was watching? I have questions.”
Calliope groaned and grabbed her coat. “They won’t answer any of them. That’s the charm.”
Raven shook her head. “It was vibes over plot. I respect it.”
Lauren stood and pulled out her phone. “Group photo before you vanish. It’s law now.”
They posed on the couch, half-asleep, full of sugar, with arms draped over each other like family. Lauren leaned into Sierra at the last second and snapped the pic.
“That one’s going in my story. Caption:Survived my first Inner Circle initiation.” Lauren beamed.
Calliope pointed as she walked to the door. “You’re in. Don’t forget. No take-backs.”
“Officially cursed.” Jett added while yawning. “Welcome.”
They left in a flurry of hugs and waves. Sierra saw them out with a warmth in her chest she didn’t know how to name.
After the door clicked shut, silence settled in. Lauren lingered in the entryway, keys in hand. The shadows from the red lights danced on her face.
“Thanks for inviting me.” Lauren’s voice was soft.
Sierra wanted to say more.Stay. Don’t go. Let this be something real.But the words caught in her throat.
“I’m glad you came.”
Their eyes met. The moment stretched, silent and electric.
Then Lauren stepped back with a smile. “Goodnight, Sierra.”
“Night.”
Sierra watched from the window as Lauren disappeared down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself, the bag of leftover gummy worms swinging at her side.
She didn’t know what came next, but she hoped, more than anything, that this was the beginning.
Chapter 12
Three days after movie night, Lauren sat cross-legged on their bed, phone balanced on their knees. They’d been thinking about Sierra constantly. Her laugh during the horror movie, the way she’d held their hand without hesitation, how effortlessly she’d fit into the group. But underneath all that warmth was the weight of what Sierra didn’t know yet.
Lauren stared at the message draft for ten straight minutes.
Lauren:Dinner at my place? Just us. There’s something I want to tell you.
They deleted it. Rewrote it. Rephrased it. Then finally sent it with trembling fingers, heart thudding against the ribs like it knew what was at stake. This part was always the hardest.
They’d been here before... the late-night invite, the careful setup, the practiced calm that never quite reached their pulse. It always started hopefully, but it rarely ended well. Some people got quiet; others made excuses. While some simply disappeared.
Lauren had learned not to expect anything. Not rejection, not understanding, and certainly not kindness. Just... silence, mostly, but sometimes violence. Too frequently, it was a slow drift into absence. They weren’t worried about violence from Sierra at all, but the thought of losing someone already so precious to them seemed unbearable. But Sierra didn’t leave Lauren on read. The reply came a minute later.
Sierra:Yes. Just say when. And I’ll bring wine.
Lauren let out a shaky breath and read the message again, and again. It didn’t erase the fear, but it softened something. Just enough.
They placed the phone down gently, as if any sudden movement might jinx it. Tomorrow, Sierra would come over, and Lauren would finally say the words out loud. They didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they wanted to find out.
Lauren’s apartment smelled like lemon, rosemary, and the faint edge of nervous energy she couldn’t shake. They had already checked the oven timer three separate times and rearranged the couch pillows twice, trying to convince themself it was all no big deal. Just dinner. Just Sierra. No pressure.
