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

I44I

Camilo tossed and turned all night, constantly rolling over Avon and waking her up. The twin bed was barely big enough for one of them, let alone both, but Camilo refused to sleep on the floor, and Avon refused to let him go back to his own bed where a very confused Amelie was still lying—waiting for him to come back. 

"In your dreams, bitch," thought Avon, as her thoughts flicked over the blonde girl. She couldn't believe that Alma was letting a damn near stranger sleep in her grandson's room. 

Not just a stranger. A girl. A girl who was trying to marry into the family at any cost. If that wasn't a red flag, she didn't know what was. 

Avon remembered something about 'red flag's' that she'd said to Camilo when they'd first met. Well, met for the second time, that was. 

 "Okay, I'm still not seeing any red flags here." I didn't even question how he knew that random fact.

I rolled my eyes. "You don't have to see red flags for them to be there." I pointed out, starting to walk again. "Trust me, there are plenty red flags here, the first one being that you're talking to a random stranger who may or may not be a serial killer."

"Well, are you a serial killer?" 

That made her think. 

"Cami?" She whispered, tugging gently at his hair. He snorted in his sleep, rolling over onto his side until they were nose to nose. "Camilo?" Avon rolled her eyes. "Arepa's are ready." 

Camilo's eyes shot open. He looked around wildly, as if he expected someone to bring them out on a plate to him. Of course, no one did. 

He sighed with disappointment. "I told you not to lie to me about serious matters." 

"Right," Avon snapped her fingers quietly, as to not wake Mirabel. "Serious matters, like arepas should not be joked about." 

Camilo smirked. "Come here." He carefully scooted over so that she was laying on his chest. "So..why'd you wake me up? There better be a very good reason." 

"I was thinking about 'red flags'," Avon said thoughtfully. "What are my red flags?" 

"Well, for one, you're extremely stubborn..and you have a terribly sarcastic sense of humor...and you—" 

Avon laughed, covering her mouth. "Okay, okay, I get it." 

"But, that doesn't stop you from being perfect," Camilo said sweetly, smiling. "—and...you always burn the arepas-"

Avon covered his mouth. "Shut it." She sighed dramatically. "and I thought you were finally being serious about something." She pulled her hand away, sitting up to fix her braids. Camilo looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

"You might want to think about what you're doing," He said quietly. "...careful, careful." He glanced over at Mirabel, who was still fast asleep. 

Avon tried not to blush, rolling her eyes at the idiotic curly-haired boy. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning. Avon tugged her hair into three sections, trying not to move around too much. 

"Leave your hair loose," Camilo whined. "I like it like that." 

"Fine," Avon sighed, dropping the elastic on the bedside table. She shuffled her hips forward, trying not to fall off the bed. Camilo's eyes widened and he bit the inside of his cheek. "Sorry," Avon grinned, sliding off him and laying down on her back. "Better?" 

"Depends on what you think constitutes as 'better'."