House Of Cards

12. "I find all of you cute."

"Who the fuck eats mango with a spoon?"

"You're so judgemental," she stated. "Who cares how I eat my mangos?"

"Well no one once they find out how weirdly you eat it." I mumbled, crawling into the fort, resting my back on the edge of the couch.

"You're an ass," she replied, handing me the bowl and then getting inside herself.

It was probably because of how little the space we had was, but Camila sat right next to me, our sides pressed against each other. I had a little bit of room to move over into the corner of the couch but so did she. Neither of us made that move and it was like the entire left side of my body that was in contact with hers was on fire. In attempt to distract myself, I opened the bag of chips, pulling out a fluffy Cheeto.

Subconsciously, I leaned in a placed a quick kiss to her cheek, alarmingly close to the corner of her mouth. She froze and I giggled at the sight before she turned to look at me.

"What was that for?"

"Sorry for being a dick about the spoon thing, even if it is dumb, and thank you for being the type of person that prefers the fluffy Cheetos over the skinny ones."

Camila laughed into my shoulder and mumbled what sounded like "you're welcome" and "you're still an asshole".

Camila put on a new record and prompted me to lay down on the makeshift bed. I agreed and she followed right after, resting her head against my shoulder. We weren't nearly as pressed against each other but intimate none the less.

Camila was definitely high at this point. She was mumbling on about the universe and how maybe we're all just shooting stars. In hindsight, it made no sense, but I was high enough to humour it as well.

The music was crappy quality on purpose and I figured it was some undiscovered band and the crisp sound added character.

"I wish I was a movie." Camila was the first to speak.

"A movie?"

"Yeah, I want to be a romantic indie film."

"Do you mean you want to be in a movie?" I asked.

"No, I don't want to be an actress. I wouldn't mind being a character, though. Honestly, I just wish my life was some beautiful montage of two people falling in love with a soundtrack that went along with it."

"So you just want a soundtrack to your life?"

"And the falling in love part."

"Those can both be arranged." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Remember what I was telling you about reverie, a pleasant day dream?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"I think the whole 'falling in love' montage you're talking about is reverie in its purest form. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to experience that, too." I revealed.

"How do you do that?" She asked. "How are you able to think so deeply and then articulate it?"

I shrugged. "I don't think it's about dissecting or thinking deeply, I just say what's on my mind."