we don't talk about us// Camilo Madrigal x oc

I36I

"I declare this day a day free of chores," said Avon, giving Camilo a long look. She pushed the covers back, got under them and then pulled them over her head. "So..I say sleep first, then do nothing."

Camilo smirked. "I can think of a few things we could do if you get bored." He pulled the blankets up to his chin, turning over onto his side to face her.

Avon sighed. "Had I known you were going to be in that kind of mood, I would definitely not have gotten into your bed with you," She rolled her eyes. "But fine. Today is your day. As long as you don't get stressed out, it's fine with me."

Camilo leaned forward, kissing her forehead. He scooted slightly closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Alright. Nothing stressful. Got it."

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Camilo huffed with annoyance, rolling off his bed. He landed with a thump. "Ouch."

"Camilo! You're supposed to be helping the farmers today!" Alma's voice came from outside the door.

"Camilo's sick!" Avon yelled, inventing wildly. "He has a really bad...cold."

Alma opened the door, looking skeptically at Camilo, who was laying on the ground in a heap, appearing completely fine.

Camilo coughed feebly, putting a hand on his forehead. "I have a fever, Abuela."

She sighed, eyes landing on Avon. "Hm. I guess just for today you can skip your chores." Abuela narrowed her eyes slightly, picking up a book from Camilo's shelf and placing it in front of the door to prop it open. "Leave the door open 8 inches, or Avon has to leave."

Avon heard the specific measurement, trying to fight back laughter.

"Damn, that's oddly specific," Camilo said, smirking.

Alma sighed again, muttering something about teenagers as she left.

"Stop," Avon said, tossing a pillow at the curly haired boy. "Don't even say it."

"Heh."

Avon stared at the crack of space where the door was open. The book–which happened to be Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets--was sad looking, some of the pages bookmarked and bent from overuse.

It was a good book after all.

"So..now what?" Camilo asked, standing up. He flopped onto the bed, curls flying everywhere.

"Have you ever tried putting your hair in a ponytail?" Avon asked, raising her eyebrows. "Or..like a bun?"

Camilo tugged at his hair, grinning. "Yeah, Dolores used to do that to my hair all the time."

"Great," Avon pulled her braid loose, putting the elastic around her wrist. "Turn around."

He complied, sitting in front of her on the bed.

She carefully pulled his hair to the back, purposely leaving a couple of strands loose in the front. Once she was done, Camilo stood in front of the mirror for about twenty minutes, just staring at his hair.

Avon had to admit, he looked quite adorable with that particular hairstyle.  

"I look like a girl," He whined, tilting his head to the side.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Avon smirked. "I think you should wear your hair like that more often."

Camilo rolled his eyes. "Fine."