The Heart of Camilo (A Camilo Madrigal x Reader Fem Y/N Story)

Resurrection

*Y/N*

Five Years and One Month After the Wedding

Four Months Since Previous Chapter

Y/N's and Camilo's current ages: 25 years old

I switched gears, turning the wheel quickly as I threw a glance over my shoulder to make sure the way was clear, changing lanes and then hitting the gas to accelerate. The car, at this point, felt like an extension of my body, and it responded immediately, a smooth transition over and around the car in front of me as I navigated, grinning over at Damian in the passenger seat. He grinned back at me before calmly resuming looking out the window at the night lights. He knew I was a great driver and wasn't fazed, and I smiled thinking about Diego or Camilo's panicked responses if I had attempted a move that quickly if they were here in the car with us. 

The nights on the highway created their own carved pathway through the night and I followed it, looking for our exit, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel along with the music thumping from the speakers in the car. I accelerated again, navigating around other cars, before moving to the right lane and exiting.

"The beach again?" I asked him to confirm, knowing it really wasn't necessary.

"Of course," he grinned. His favourite restaurant was there - a greasy place that made the so-called best hamburgers in the whole city. I pulled off the exit ramp, slowing down, and without the roar of the engine and the wind through the car at that speed, suddenly the music seemed louder than ever. Damian reached over, laughing, turning it down. "We're going to get hearing damage the way you like your music."

"Well, we don't go clubbing anymore, I need to get it somewhere," I replied demurely, shooting him a look. "Is there anything better than loud music?"

"I can think of a few things!" he laughed.

"Oh, jeez, not everything is about sex, okay?"

"I'm just saying," he smirked.

"How is it going with what's-her-name?" I asked, making a left turn towards the beach at a green light.

"What's-her-name is good," he replied, not elaborating, looking out the window again.

"Let me guess, you have moved on already," I said, shaking my head, honking as someone cut me off, making Damian laugh.

"I guess you could say that," he said.

"You're very cryptic tonight."

He sighed, smiling, and reclined his seat a little further back, putting his arms behind his head. "I don't know. I guess it was fine. She was nice, the sex was good, but like ... I don't know. It's kind of getting old. I'm turning 30 soon. I might be beginning an existential crisis."

"Shouldn't that start a little later?" I teased, making a right turn.

He laughed. "I've always been ahead of the game in life."

I didn't say anything to that, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. We arrived at the beach and I pulled into a parking spot, killing the engine, looking over at him. "Are you alright?"

He sighed again. "Do you mind?" he asked, pulling out a box of cigarettes from his pocket.

"No," I said, surprised, "but since when do you smoke?"

"I don't," he smiled. "My fiancée did. It drove me goddamn crazy, I was always on her to quit. But I smoke them every now and then just for the smell."