Page 55 of Loving Lauren
By the time Sierra sank into the couch, she felt wrung out. Raven offered to crash on her couch, but she shook her head.
When the apartment was quiet again, she sat with the half-heart keychain in her hand, reading Lauren’s anniversary note until the lines swam.
In the dark, with no one there to see, she finally let it hit her. Sleep came, but it was thin and full of empty spaces.
Chapter 31
Lauren left the studio early with a takeout bag swinging at their side, the kind of comfort food Sierra loved when she was wiped after a shoot. The evening had a soft blue light that made everything look kinder. They pictured the surprise; the easy grin Sierra always gave them before she reached for a kiss. It felt simple. It felt like safety.
On the corner by the warehouse, Lauren slowed. Sierra stood near the loading dock with a man Lauren didn’t recognize. Clean-cut, easy smile, the sort of guy parents liked. Sierra laughed at something he said and leaned in for a hug, long enough for him to lift her a little off her feet. When she stepped back, she touched his forearm, casual and familiar, and they started down the block side by side.
The street sounds dropped out of Lauren’s head. Heat roared in their ears. All at once they were sixteen again on a different sidewalk, the night they learned the door could lock behind you forever. They told themself to breathe, to walk forward, to trust what they knew about Sierra. Their body would notmove. They watched until the two figures turned the corner and disappeared.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it meant everything. The thoughts stacked fast and crooked. Sierra’s parents had been polite and distant. Sierra had said she was working on it, that she needed time. Time could turn into distance. Distance could turn into doors closing. The man had looked simple in a way Lauren could not be. Explainable. Safe.
Lauren’s fingers tightened on the paper bag until the grease bled through. They placed it down on the steps and sat hard. They could call, they could ask, they could choose trust, the way Sierra always asked them to. The muscles in their chest felt locked. Words would not come. Instead, a thousand old alarms went off at once, a chorus of,leave first, end it before it ends you, make it clean so it hurts less.A lie that had kept them alive.
They walked home without remembering the blocks in between. Their phone buzzed in their pocket. Sierra’s name lit the screen. Lauren stared at it until the call went to voicemail. A new text. Another call. The phone kept lighting, then going dark, the room flashing and dimming as if they were underwater.
In the bathroom mirror, their face looked strange. Too pale. Eyes too wide. They gripped the sink and tried to slow their breathing. It did not slow. They slid down the wall, pressed their forehead to their knees, and told themself that love was supposed to be easier than this. Sierra would be happier with someone who did not bring a storm into every room.
They drafted a message and deleted it. Typed another and deleted that, too. Words kept breaking apart in their hands. When the last call went to voicemail again, the sound of Sierra’s voice pulled something loose and aching in Lauren’s chest. They set the phone face down on the counter and let the silence fill the apartment until it pressed on their ribs.
End it clean,the old voice said.Save her from the part of you that ruins good things. Make it simple so she doesn’t fight for you and make it harder.
They picked up the phone, found the few sentences that felt like armor, and held on to them like a ledge.
Sierra stared at her screen until her eyes stung. The little delivered checkmarks lined up like a row of closed doors. She told herself a dozen reasonable stories and did not believe any of them. The quiet in her apartment pressed in from every side, so she put on shoes and walked.
She walked to the park where Lauren had first kissed her under the oak tree, where the air had smelled like cut grass and heat. Then walked to Bean & Bloom and bought a chai she did not drink. She sat by the window and watched the evening slide down the glass, telling herself that any minute now the bell would jingle and Lauren would wander in with that crooked smile and say, “Sorry, the day got away from me, I’m here.”
Her phone stayed still on the table, face up like a dare.
By the time the sky tipped toward violet, she called Thalia. “I can’t do this! I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“I know, sis. Breathe if you can. Give them a little time. They’ll come back to you when they can say it out loud.”
It made sense. None of it helped. She went home and lay on the rug with Salem sprawled on her ribs like a weighted blanket with opinions. When she closed her eyes, every version of Lauren’s face flickered behind her lids. Laughing. Concentrating. Sleepy. Gone.
Two days later, her phone lit up with Lauren’s name. Relief hit so hard she had to grab the counter to steady herself.
“Oh my God, Lauren! Are you okay? I’ve been so scared something happened to you. I thought maybe you were hurt or—”
“I’m okay.” The voice on the other end sounded thin, like it had been pulled through wire. “I just wanted to tell you it’s over.”
The words did not fit in her ear. “What?”
“It’s over. We’re done.”
“Why?” She heard her own voice go small and hated it. “Just tell me why. I love you so much. If I messed something up, I can fix it. Whatever it is, I can fix it.”
A pause opened. Sierra could hear them breathing. Not steady. Not calm. Like someone holding their shoulders too tight.
“I saw the text from Thalia that said, ‘I know that wasn’t the reaction you deserved. I’m proud of you for telling them, and I hope you and Lauren are okay’.”
“I told you how they reacted. It’s not fair to us, but they’ll come around. If they don’t, I’ll always choose you.”
“Your parents are already disappointed in you because of me. You shouldn’t have to choose between your family and someone like me. I’m only going to keep hurting you. Your family will never accept me, and I can’t watch you lose them because of me.”
