𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘 ━━ l. valdez

vi ━━ if comfort is a construct, i don't believe in good luck

04. chapter six

━━━━━━━━ ( 💫 ) ━━━━━━━━

( leo's pov )

WAKING UP NEXT TO A GIRL WAS SOMETHING I never dreamed I would have the liberty of. So when I realized Camille and I had fallen asleep together in the engine room, I was pretty stoked.

Even better, we weren't found out by Coach Hedge.

Camille was still asleep beside me. She had fallen asleep on my shoulder, leaning against the wall, the previous night. After that, I pulled a blanket over us and rested my head on top of hers. Now, we had somehow wound up laying down beside each other. Her arm was pressed up against mine and our hands were intertwined. Her skin in contact with mine felt freezing cold. She was breathing so slowly, I considered putting a mirror under her nose to check if she was alive.

For a minute, I wondered how lucky I was. No, I wasn't completely sure if Camille really did want to be my girlfriend or anything, but I at least knew that she enjoyed my company enough that she would sleep on the uncomfortable floor of the engine room. She, a girl raised in a Christian household in the 1920s, willing to get into trouble just to spend more time with me. It was almost too good to be true.

For some reason, I began to think about just how much Camille had changed from when we first met at the Wilderness School. She was frail, confused, and at times uptight when we had met. Now, she could wield a pocket knife, sword, and bow with confidence and excellence. She could command the dead and communicate with spirits. She could end someone's life with something as simple as an oath. She had learned to let go a little. Heck, she kissed me on the neck while wearing lipstick! Though sometimes flashes of her 1920s upbringing would show, and it would be one of the cutest things I had ever seen.

I was deep in my thoughts, staring at the pretty girl laying next to me, her hair tousled and clothes unruly. Her face was relaxed, unadorned with her usual laced eyebrows and melancholic scowl. She looked angelic and peaceful.

When Piper opened to the door, I almost didn't notice because I was so engrossed. But, alas, my attention turned to the cracked open door where Piper was standing. She was dressed for the day—a purple feather braided into her hair, and wearing a green Paul Frank Julius T-shirt with jeans.

When she saw us, she gasped quietly, then grinned, and gave me a thumbs up. Then she did that motion with her fingers where she pointed at me and then her own eyes to say: I'm watching you. Then she shut the door and everything was quiet besides the familiar hum of the machinery all around us.

In the morning light, the engine room transformed from a shadowy, industrial space into a realm of intricate beauty. Sunbeams filtered through small, grimy windows, casting a golden glow on the polished metal surfaces and the maze of pipes and gears. The light danced across the room, highlighting the subtle details of the machinery—the rivets, the gauges, and the worn handles. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the sunlight, giving the room an almost ethereal quality. The hum of the engines, usually a background noise, seemed to harmonize with the morning stillness, creating a sense of calm and quiet efficiency.

Beside me, I felt Camille stir. It was a gentle, feeble movement that made me sit rigid, not wanting to wake her.

Despite my attempts at quiet and stillness, Camille's eyes blinked open and she noticed me sitting up beside her. For a moment, she looked disoriented, then realization dawned.