a sum of small things | camren (au)

barcelona | july | part I

You're sitting so close to the orchestra that you can feel the music beating inside of your body as you watch Camila take the London Royal Opera House by a storm; it's the Rite of Spring, of course, but up there, on the stage, she's all fire and skin and heat - and she makes you think of summer too.

She makes you think of the view from the Turó de la Rovira; the waves around your ankles; your favorite café in the whole city; scratchy piano melodies and dancing on the docks; vodka dripping down your throat-

All these places in the world that hold the pieces of your heart, and Barcelona, the whole of it beating as a life of its own.

:::

july

:::

The sunlight makes Camila's skin look tanner. If you're staring at her legs for a second too long, no one bothers to call you out on it. She's all rapid fire, rolling her 'r's with every Spanish syllable that curls itself around the base of your spine, the ease of it the most attractive thing you've ever heard. If you're staring at her lips for a second too long, no one bothers to call you out on it.

You still haven't quite registered the fact that she's actually here. Not just participating in the summer school, but here, in the streets where you've grown up, in the theatres you performed your first shows in, in a hotel room only a couple of doors away from yours. She was supposed to be in New York for the entire stretch of summer, but instead, she's here, with you - smiling at you from the other end of the table in your mother's favorite tapas restaurant; jumping up and down with excitement over the amount of bananas in the crowded Boqueria; on the beach, in light blue jean shorts and an unbuttoned flannel that is hanging loosely over her shoulders, screaming as she tries to push Keaton in the breakers, hair wild, head thrown back in laughter, smile over her shoulder aimed straight at you-

It kicks your fucking heartbeat right out of control.

You know there's a reason people come to Spain in the summer. You know there's something hot and charming and flirtatious about Barcelona. The city has the sharpest edge of irresistibility, and you're all too familiar with its magnetic pull.

You try to ignore it, but you know that it's only a matter of time until you, like everyone else, will fall under its spell.

(A city burning in the sun. A city for the reckless.)

//

"Oh my God-"

She's right in front of you, and then she's not.

It's the very first day of classes and without any sort of explanation, Camila suddenly spins right on her heel and walks, runs, sprints off in the direction of the very last barre, all the way at the back of the studio. You're completely startled by the sudden movement, but you can't help but follow her, quickly working your way through the groups of Spanish students, until you're right in front of her again.

"Camz," you start, half a confused smile on your face. "What the hell are you-"

"You didn't tell me she'd be here-" Camila blurts out, blushing furiously, stealing panicked glances at the front of the studio where your mother is currently talking to a couple of dancers from the Barcelona Ballet who'll be teaching the first masterclass.

You don't get it. "What? Who?"

"Ally Brooke Hernandez," Camila whispers harshly, looking at you like you're crazy for not understanding. "Oh my God - couldn't you have given me a warning or something... I'm such a big fan - like, you don't even know. I have at least twenty different posters of her and now she's - I can't believe she's going to be teaching the masterclass. I can't believe I'm even - Lauren, what if I screw up-" Her eyes go wide at the thought. "What if I screw up right in front of Ally Brooke Hernandez and-"