CHAPTER 68

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"Hi Kuya Camilo!", Butch greeted him as they met on the stairs.

"Hi, Butchy", he said wrapping a towel around the boy's shoulders before he went up to Antonio's room.

Papi followed after the boy but not after giving Camilo a certain smile. He was followed by Mariano who was sporting that soft yet manly smile he always had.

"Good afternoon, Camilo"

"Good afternoon", Camilo replied, forgetting to glare at the man her sister was dating because he thought

If they're all going upstairs then...

He'd be alone with Y/N.

Camilo didn't know why he was feeling nervous. It's like this jittery feeling in his chest that made him bounce on the balls of his feet as he tried to gain the courage to talk to his best friend.

Why would I need courage? It's just Posa, just Y/N. We've talked before, obviously. Why on earth would I be nervous?

It's no time to be afraid, Camilo. Just pretend like you aren't absolutely shy about giving a girl your towels. Right? Everyone uses towels. I'm sure if I needed it, Posa wouldn't have a second thought and let me borrow one of hers.

Right? There's no need to be shy, right?

It's just a towel. Just his own towel that he never uses because it's, well... He actually didn't know. He just never uses these special towels, let alone have a girl borrow them.

Snap out of it! You're just gonna lend her the towels so she won't get cold!

Camilo took deep breaths.

Somehow he also didn't want to be alone with Y/N. Maybe because he saw her thoroughly rub her legs and check her assets for decency-

Camilo clicked his tongue and smothered and smacked his face with the folded towels to pull himself together... And to get Y/N's pretty skin out of his mind...

But he also wanted to talk to her because he didn't have a chance to comfort her and her family yesterday. Señor- err- Tio Ernesto didn't even get the makeover they went there for.

No dyeing, no haircut, no nothing.

Tio Agustin just gave him a big man hug, which he gratefully returned before they left quietly.

Not with Tio Ernesto watching, Camilo couldn't do anything.

He didn't have the chance to hug Posa, to hush her, to wipe the tear tracks
from her cheeks, or to brush her fallen strands of hair behind her ear as she cried.

He just held her hand under the table, their fingers entwined as she held onto him to stop herself from absolutely bawling her eyes out, while he gently rubbed his thumb at the back of her hand, telling her that I'm here, I'm here for you, and I'm here with you.

But to Camilo Madrigal, the boy who never ceases until he gets what he wants, until he makes people happy, that was not enough.

So he manned up and strut down those stairs and into the temporarily covered living room.

Yes, he was walking like he was a man on a mission, but when he saw her up close, drenched, timid, her big, beautiful eyes staring at the new ceiling, her lips parted in awe of the unfamiliar aura of homey darkness in Casita, Camilo couldn't help but stare.

The warm light from the lanterns flickered in her shining eyes as she sent another shy smile toward him.

"Hi", she said, almost whispering as if she didn't want to disturb the peace of the rainy afternoon.

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