CATRACHA ━ marcel ruiz

xii. the meeting.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐀 *✲ﾟ*｡⋆
[ xii. chapter twelve; the meeting. ]

☸︎

When Elle was five, and she got nervous, she'd bite things. She'd bite her nails, her fingers, anything to take her mind of the nerves. She'd even bitten her dance teacher's son, resulting in her getting a two week suspension from going to class. Starting at the age of seven, Elle would stress eat. Anything edible that she could get her hands on, it'd go into her mouth. Elle didn't care if it was something she didn't like, she just ate.

Elle scooped another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, unbothered by the looks the security guards in front of the studio gave her.

"That's her third one," one of the guards whispered to the other, "she can eat."

Elle rolled her eyes when Ana replied, "It's the nerves."

The guard chuckled. "Yeah, we heard about some girl coming to see Marcel today." He looked at Elle. "Don't worry, kid, he's just as nervous as you are. Actually, between you and me, he's even more nervous."

Elle gave him a tight lipped smile, nodding politely. That's another thing, whenever she was nervous, it was easier to irritate her. But it was nice to hear that he was feeling the same way. Ana drove her car into the parking lot, outside a large building. Amir was in the back, mumbling bitterly about how he should be in the passenger seat because Elle was too tiny to survive a car crash. The three entered the building, with Ana leading the way after getting all the information from the guards.

Elle had barely eaten a quarter of her tub of ice cream, her lips covered in it as she kept shoveling spoonfuls of the stuff into her mouth. The cast and crew were in sight now, a girl with brown hair waving at them. Amir and Elle heard Ana's breath hitch in her throat. The two looked up at the her, whose blue hair dye had been fading out to reveal her natural brown hair. The other unknown girl was coming closer to them, and now they could see that she wasn't in fact unknown.

She stopped in front of them, a large smile on her face. "Hey, guys! I'm Isabella...what am I saying? You guys knew that already. Anyway, um, you must be..." her voice trailed off when she looked at Ana. The two girls stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. Elle and Amir were left to stare at them wide-eyed, until Ana began to stutter.

"Uh, Ana." She mumbled, finally noticing her two other friends. "These are my friends, Elle and Amir."

"Excuse me? That's best friends," Amir corrected, his voice sassy. "Does our thirteen years of friendship mean nothing to you?"

"Don't listen to him," Elle piped in, "he's just mad because he didn't get to ride in the passenger seat."

"Oh, okay." Isabella laughed, making Ana's attention turn back to her. "They're probably going to want us back soon, you know. Script stuff, but, um, your friends - sorry, best friends - can look around." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe look for Marcel, or something."

Elle gripped her spoon tighter, eating a lot faster than before. "No comment."

Isabella eyed her, a certain look on her face. "Okay, then. Um, Ana, we've got to be somewhere right now. Elle, Amir, we'll see you guys in...twenty."

"Cool, bye," Amir said, waving as the two older girls walked away. "Alright, let's go look for your boyfriend."

"I will shove this spoon down your throat."

The two began walking around, exploring the building. Elle huffed, ice cream still covering her face. "He's not my boyfriend, Amir. And even if I wanted him to be, which I don't, you'd know because I would have told you a long time ago."

"Sure," Amir deadpanned, "whatever you say."

Elle rolled her eyes, looking down at her feet. She bumped into someone, dropping her ice cream and watching sadly as it spilled all over the floor. The person turned around quickly, Elle too blinded by anger to notice who it was.

"Alright, puta madre, I'm about to go mad Latina on you, so you got five seconds to run before I come at you," Elle threatened, her voice low.

Suddenly, her eyes widened when the person, or boy, started laughing. Elle knew that laugh. She quickly licked her lips, wiping her face to clean it. This was not how she was expecting this moment to go.

"Elle Velázquez? Is that you?" His voice was ringing in her ears, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like how it sounded.

"Marcel Ruiz, in the flesh."

He smiled at Elle, looking down at her. "Wow, you really are super small."

Elle gave him a sickly sweet smile in return. "Wow, you really are a huge jerk."

"Ouch," Marcel fake winced, "que agresiva eres."

"Thanks." Elle crossed her arms. "Y tú eres una desgracia."

A new voice interrupted their conversation, an aggravated one. "Oh my god, just make out already! Am I the only one who's suffocating because of all this sexual tension?"

Elle and Marcel's faces scrunched up, looking at each other and back at Amir. "Ew, gross."

"See? You even think alike!" Amir exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Melle is meant to be."

"Is he always like this?" Marcel asked, turning to Elle.

She shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

Marcel laughed again, making Elle smile and her cheeks rosy. Her brows furrowed, eyes looking to the side. Something about his laugh made her smile, her face warm, her stomach explode. And Elle wasn't quite sure what to do about it.