Page 2 of Loving Lauren
No answer came. Only the echo of laughter and eyes she’d never seen before yet felt somehow familiar.
Chapter 2
Dawn was barely breaking when Sierra stepped outside with her camera bag and tea. The air smelled like rain coming. She took a slow breath, steadying herself before Jonas’s SUV appeared at the curb, dark and still. He sat behind the wheel without looking over, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the steering wheel. His thermos balanced in the cupholder like an old ritual. He didn’t look over when she opened the door and slid in beside him. He never did, because Jonas considered eye contact before sunrise to be cruel, almost a punishment.
Neither of them spoke, but they didn’t need to. They worked like gears... tight, efficient, always turning. Early mornings, sharp light, and the shared language of aperture and instinct bound their dynamic.
The drive wound through a city still half-asleep, the sky bleeding pink and gold. Light slid across the windows like liquid honey, softening even the sharpest edges. Photographers called this fragile span their golden hour, a window where everything glowed. It only lasted for an hour or two, bookending each daylike a secret only photographers bothered to learn, and maybe that made it sacred. Sierra tipped her head toward it, letting the warmth sink in enough to take the edge off the tired feeling behind her eyes.
Jonas unpacked his gear with the economy that comes from doing it a hundred times. Camera bodies, lenses, light meters, reflectors. Sierra mirrored his movements, setting up lights and adjusting stands while he snapped test shots. They didn’t speak, but their rhythm held.
Models arrived in shifts, their heels tapping over stone. The makeup artist came in behind them, arms full of powder brushes and bronzer palettes. She laughed at something one model said, but the sound faded fast.
Sierra clipped the reflector into place, then stepped back, squinting into the glare. Sequins on the dresses kicked the sunlight back at her, scattering it across the cobblestones. The models shifted into place... angles perfect, expressions locked in, the look you usually see sealed up behind glass.
Jonas gave directions in short, clipped phrases. He hated fuss. Sierra’s focus drifted, and a growing unease lingered. Ever since yesterday’s encounter in the park, she’d felt restless, distracted. The girl with the sparrows kept slipping into her thoughts at the worst moments. She couldn’t name it, but it stayed there, tugging at the edge of her thoughts like a thread she hadn’t pulled.
By the far wall, in the shade of a flowering trellis, an older woman relaxed. She wore her silver hair in a loose bun. A lilac cardigan buttoned to the top, a paperback balanced on her knees. Her attention wasn’t on the models. Sierra’s hands stilled.
That woman was more interesting than anything else in the courtyard. She didn’t sculpt her expression or pose, but she radiated the type of presence that came from living... from being seen and choosing not to flinch.
Sierra grabbed her camera and clicked just once, but the sound startled the woman who looked over, met her eyes, and smiled. Not with curiosity, but with understanding.
Sierra lowered the camera. That was the moment she wanted to chase. Not runway-ready glamour. Not symmetrical beauty, but stories etched onto faces, fingerprints of time.
She wasn’t sure this job with polished industry shoots, brand contracts, and name-dropping was her world anymore. She wasn’t sure it had ever been, but it paid the bills.
The day had left Sierra restless. Even after the shoot wrapped and she’d helped Jonas pack the equipment, the feeling of searching for something more authentic lingered. She needed a distraction, something to shake off the dissatisfaction clinging to her.
That night, Sierra stayed outside her building a little longer, watching the sky lose its last streaks of light. The air clung to her skin, thick with humidity. She was rubbing the knot on her shoulder when her phone lit up. Three missed calls. With everything going on, she completely forgot about club night with her friends.
Before she could call back, she spotted them. Three figures under the busted streetlamp at the corner.
Raven leaned on the post as if it were hers to defend, arms crossed, black lace boots set wide. Raven’s dark lipstick and sharp eyeliner were her signature. She had the look of someone who could win prom queen just to see if anyone would dare take it from her.
Calliope shifted her weight from one foot to the other, curves tucked into ripped jeans and a flannel jacket too big to be hers. Her green eyes caught the flicker from the bulb overhead. Spikyred hair stuck out as if she’d attacked it with a toaster and no second thoughts.
Jett was all charm and heat. He wore a grin that suggested he was always keeping a secret. His ebony skin glowed beneath the streetlight, his jawline clean and smug. He tossed her a wink.
“You’re late,” he called, grinning. “Fashionably late, I’ll allow it, but next time you’re buying the first round.”
“Disappear on us again and I’m filing a missing persons report. Don’t test me, Turner.” Raven’s eyes narrowed like she was only half-joking.
“It’s club night, darling.” Calliope looped her arm through Sierra’s before she could blink. “The gods have decreed it. Your protest has been overruled.”
“I didn’t even say...”
“You don’t get a vote,” they chorused, Jett laughing, Raven smirking, and Calliope fluttering her free hand like she was casting a spell.
Neon Pulse throbbed with bass and heat. The sign out front buzzed in pink and blue, and inside smelled like perfume, vodka, and too many fresh stories already in the making.
They moved through the crowd in a blur—elbows, glitter, strangers pressed too close. The dance floor thudded like a second heartbeat.
At first, Sierra stayed cautious, body half-stiff with habit. The music didn’t let up, and the lights kept blurring the edges of everything, yet she finally gave in. Calliope laughed and spun her. Jett reappeared just to throw a wink over his shoulder before dipping Raven in a move so exaggerated it almost worked. Raven shrieked with laughter.
Sierra lost herself in it all... the rhythm, the heat, the sense that maybe she wasn’t drifting so far from herself after all.
Then she saw her. Across the dance floor, under a wash of purple light, was a girl with long black hair, her skin shining with sweat.
