Worth The Shot

Nothing but Grass and Wind

I'm alive!! Thank you all for being so patient for this chapter. I appreciate all the support and encouragement <3 I always post if I won't be updating for a while on my message board, so check that out if you're ever confused. Good luck to anyone else working on final exams, I know you'll all do your best!

Today's fanart is by @ewok_asmr ! It's the scene where they're in the cave and Camilo holds y/n's hand to calm her down. Ahhh it's cute!!! I love how the hands are drawn, they look so realistic and the cave background is perfect!

BACK TO THE STORY

Feathery strands of grass grazed the back of your hands. The overgrown field stretched for miles, pure, uninterrupted green. You couldn't even see your feet as you waded through. Overhead, swollen clouds twisted in grey smears across a grayer sky.

Camilo didn't speak, treading heavily beside you. A nervous hush stifled everything but the reedy rush of stalks as they fidgeted in the wind, scraping against each other.

"So we're alone." The suggestive comment slipped out. Mortified, you clamped your mouth shut. Why did I say that?

Camilo raised his eyebrows, his hazel eyes dancing across your face with amusement. You liked when Camilo looked at you. It washed over your skin like a strawberry bubble bath: fizzy, tingly, warm.

Even if his glance was nonchalant and sideways. Even if a darker emotion ringed his irises. Contempt? Regret? Annoyance?

After that awkward, brief interaction, neither of you spoke. Camilo's gaze intensely clung to the horizon, as if he expected to find Mirabel silhouetted in the distance or miraculous fireworks. With a prick of annoyance, you realized that he was completely ignoring you.

"Do you think we'll find Mirabel?" you attempted, gritting your teeth in a smile. Camilo's shoulders scrunched in a shrug, barely acknowledging your question.

I know he doesn't like me now, but this is getting ridiculous.

"You could ask me a question now," you blithely suggested, ripping up a stiff strand of grass as you brushed past.

"Fine." Camilo kept the word clipped. "What do you think about the scenery?"

"What am I supposed to say to that? It's all grass."

"You could comment on the clouds. The shade of green," Camilo shrugged. "Why, you want a better question?"

"Oh, yes, please," you said with sarcastic politeness. "Try to say it like you don't find me disgusting this time."

Maybe that was too harsh, you argued with yourself. But he's being awful!

"Do you like green?" Camilo sighed and fixed you with a pointed, patronizing smile as if to say, Look. I'm trying.

"Yeah, I do. What's your favorite color?"

"What are you, five?" Camilo snickered, but his smile wasn't mean.

"Answer the question," you grinned, satisfied that you'd cracked through his detached bravado.

"Maybe yellow?" Camilo hesitated, odd frustration clouding his features. "How do people pick their favorite color, anyway? Blindly chose one and pretend to like it the best?"

"I think your favorite color should be the one that feels the most like you," you mused, threading your fingers together. "The one that captures your essence. You always wear yellow, but which color feels like you?"

Camilo rested in a thoughtful silence for a long time. "I don't know," he finally whispered into the wind. The way his chin drooped low, close to his chest, seemed hopeless and beaten.