𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒 ᶜᵐ

12 ┃ 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨

━ ⭒─⭑━

Today felt different for Camilo, lighter somehow, as if the morning air carried a hint of promise. From the moment he woke, his mind was teeming with thoughts of you. Lately, the dynamics between the two of you had shifted; gone were the days of him playing childish tricks on you followed by your exasperated scolds, instead replaced by meaningful conversations tinged with understanding and, dare he admit, a touch of affection. Somewhere along the line, without him even realizing it, his perception of you shifted, and now he finds himself drawn to you in a way he can't quite explain.

Racing down the stairs of Casita, he barely managed to grab a bite, his response to Pepa's inquiring gaze muffled by a mouthful of bread. "Just heading out," he muttered, the underlying message clear in his haste: he couldn't wait to meet you.

The jog to your shop did little to quell the smile that played on his lips, a smile born from the budding realization that his feelings for you might be evolving. Arriving at your shop, breathless and eager, he's met with disappointment—the door is locked, and a note reading "Be back, on lunch" greets him instead of your familiar face. Frustrated, he kicks at a stray pebble, contemplating how to kill time until your return.

That's when he spots Mirabel making her way down the road, her steps drawing her ever closer down the path towards him.  A spark of mischief ignites within him, and before he can second-guess the impulse, he shifts into your form, taking on your appearance with an accuracy that spoke of his keen observational skills, just as Mirabel called out in greeting.

Turning around just in time to meet Mirabel's approach with a smile he imagines you might give—sweet and kind—he greeted, "Hey, Mirabel!" His voice, now yours, carried the unique timbre and inflections that were distinctly you.

The conversation flows easily at first, Camilo slipping into your mannerisms with practiced ease, navigating through the pleasantries and everyday small talk: discussing the shop, the clients, and the simple ebb and flow of daily life.

Everything proceeded without a hitch until Mirabel, with a hint of curiosity, ventured a question that veered into more personal territory and asked, "So, how have you and Camilo been?"

Caught in the moment and perhaps too invested in his impersonation, Camilo found himself responding with a sincerity that caught even him off guard. "Oh, we've been good. He's actually pretty cool," he found himself saying, momentarily forgetting his guise amidst the authenticity of the moment.

Mirabel's response was immediate silence, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she digested the words. "Camilo, cool?"

Realizing his slip-up, Camilo panics internally. You would never openly praise him like that. With a nervous laugh, he nudges Mirabel, hastily, "Ha! C'mon, Mira. You should have seen your face. We both know those words practically contradict each other's existence!" 

Mirabel's skepticism didn't wane as she eyed Camilo critically, her "Yeah?" laced with doubt.

Yet, seizing the moment to salvage his ruse, Camilo leaned into his facade with gusto. "Oh, come on, Mira. You know me better," he quipped, channeling your supposed exasperation. "That tramposo, always a whirlwind of mischief. As if I'd suddenly sing praises of his antics."

Her suspicion seemed to waver, replaced by a chuckle, a sound of relief mingling with amusement. "For a moment there, I thought... Well, never mind. You had me going." Her laughter, though brief, was a testament to Camilo's convincing performance. But then, with a glance at the sky and a sudden recollection, she exclaimed, "Oh! I'm supposed to help Mamá with the pastries. Can't keep her waiting." With a swift goodbye and a wave, she hurried off, leaving Camilo alone with his triumph and relief.