Even If You Cross My Mind » CAMREN

Chapter 7 - Dig

                 

[Camila POV]

"Yo soy, Tu eres, El/Ella és, Nosotros... somm... uh..." the handsome brunette slowly stammered, looking upwards to mentally search through the catalogue of his memory.

"Ooh, crap! You almost got it! Fight through it!" I clapped at him like a giddy coach.

"Som... os? Somos?" he squinted.

"YES! Good! Finish it!" I sat on the couch next to my friend Shawn at his LA condo, excitedly pressing him to complete the conjugation for the Spanish verb 'ser'. This was our third or fourth 'lesson' date where I'd teach him Spanish and he'd teach me how to play guitar. We were both pretty bad at these respective things, but luckily neither of us had a judgmental teacher in the other. It was mostly just for fun, and we got along extremely well. His accent was pretty white boy for being a Mendes, and my small hands had trouble wrapping around the neck of an acoustic guitar - but somehow we made it work.

"Vosotros... sois?" he scrunched his brow, slightly confused, "Ustedes/ellos... son. Ustedes/Ellos son! BOOM! YES!"

I bounced up and down on the couch like an ecstatic child. We both gushed with excitement in this extremely dorky moment.

"Ahh! HELL YEAH! You got it! Que bueno, Señor Mendes!" I lifted my palm up in the air and he met me with an energetic high-five that stung both our hands.

"Gracias!" he exaggerated with his white boy accent, beaming, "That felt good."

"Shawn, you're making serious progress! I'm proud of you!" I smacked his chest.

"Ahh, well... I've got a good teacher." he shot me a dorky smirk as I dramatically batted my eyelashes at him, laughing.

"Well, I wish I had a good teacher who would teach me songs other than Wonderwall..." I playfully rolled my eyes. Suddenly, I let out a high-pitched squeal as I felt him poke my ribs. This poke turned into a full-blown tickle attack, and I tried my best to fight him off, laughing hysterically.

"Wait, no, no, no, no!" I rolled over on the couch and he hovered over me, tickling my sides, "You're such a bastard, WAIT, hold on!"

We were both cackling as he attacked my sides with his fingers; he was so good at dodging my defenses and I could barely catch my breath between fits of laughter. I was able to grab him by his wrists and force his arms upwards as he hovered on top of me like a horse-playing big brother.

"You really think you can win this one, Cabello?" he taunted me.

"Bring it on! I'll fight you to the death!" I roared, chuckling as I pushed his wrists away from me. Shawn broke through my grip and planted his fists on the couch on either side of my head. I was huffing and puffing underneath him, smiling at our exchange.

Suddenly, I saw the expression in his eyes change from playful to serious; he was looking into my eyes, smiling warmly. I nervously returned his smile when out of nowhere, he leaned down to press his lips against mine. It wasn't far beyond a peck. I kissed him back because his affection wasn't necessarily unwelcome – it just didn't feel right and I wasn't in that state of mind with him. After our lips made brief contact, I politely turned my head away. He still hovered over me, but his eyes communicated that he was feeling slightly concerned and mortified.

"I can't." I whispered tenderly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting quickly between mine. I placed a hand on his forearm.

"Nothing. I promise nothing is wrong. I'm not mad. I just... can't," I winced, dreading the look of rejection on his face, "I'm so sorry, Shawn."

He bolted upwards and oriented himself in his original sitting position next to me as I sat back up with him. My friend didn't appear to be upset at all, and I deeply appreciated his positive, non-pushy attitude.