Chapter 5 friends interactions

Camila's POV:

Life is quite humorous. Just when I thought I got everything figured out, you came crashing in.

When I heard a ding, I grabbed my phone; a smile crossed my lips when I saw a particular name pop up on the screen. It was from Greg. We continued to exchange messages - jokes, sarcastic comments - regular friends' interactions.

I continue glancing at the three-dotted lines while resuming my orange peeling and strawberry cutting. When I finish, I wash my hands, grab a fork, and head towards the couch.

Biting my lips, I flopped down on the couch, staring at the screen. Greg always gives me these little comments that make my heart flutter, but I know we are just friends.

After all, I have a boyfriend.

Glancing down, I realize the fruits spilled all over the couch, most likely creating stains. Darn it. My eyes trail down towards the mess, and I started debating whether I should clean it up or watch TV. "I'll clean it up later."

It's been two years since I met Greg, and we have become best friends. Talking to Greg seems so natural and was not forced like other people. I don't like making forced conversation or meeting new people in general.

If I can, I would stay at home on my couch and watch mindless TV shows forever, but God won't allow me to have the luxury.

I look down at my finger. I couldn't wait to tell him my good news. He would be so happy for me.

While I waited at the airport, I played games on my phone and vigorously tapped my foot. He said he was going to be here three hours ago-that bastard.

"Boo!" I whipped around and saw Greg with a huge grin planted on his face.

Immediately, I kicked him in his shin. I folded my arms across my chest. "3:00! You say 3:00!"

He bends down and rubs his shin. Once he finishes, he looks at me with a pout. "Sorry. I had some business, so I had to take a later flight."

I huffed out some air, "It's okay."

He beamed a smile and lifted me. "Good to see you again, short stack."

I wrap my arms around his neck, "Good to see you again too."

"I miss you," he mumbled.

I burst out laughing, "Greg, I saw you a week ago."

He continues wobbling me back and forth in the air. "Doesn't mean I can't miss you."

I looked at him, placing my hands on his cheeks and forming them into a duck face. "You know, sometimes it doesn't feel like you live in New York. You're here all the time."

"Let's say there is something about California that keeps pulling me back." He placed me down and grabbed his bag. "What are we eating? I'm hungry."

I shook my head and gestured to him to follow. While I drove us to a restaurant, Greg played with the radio. When my current favorite song came on, I slapped his hands away. "Ow! I swear, Camila. You're the only one who will ever hit me."

I placed a finger on his soft lips. "Sh! I'm listening to my current favorite song right now."

He smacks my finger away. "Don't do that! I don't know where that finger has been!"

"Up your ass, if you don't shut up," I snapped.

"Oh, Love, you know I don't roll that away," he winked.

"Baby, you haven't tasted my magic yet. Once you taste it, you will be coming back for more." I wink back at him. Greg grinned at me, shaking his head as he rolled down the window, inhaling the fresh air or maybe...he farted. I wouldn't be surprised.

The swift wind was blowing past his brown hair, radiant sun was beaming down on his features. My grip tensed on the old wheel handle, eyes trained forward in an endeavor not to crash into the car in front of me. "So, how is New York?"

Greg shrugged nonchalantly, elbow leaning on the door handle. "Same old, same old."

Puffing up my cheeks, I gave a single firm nod. "Really? Nothing happened?"

He turned his head, giving me a tender smile showing his loving deep dimple. "Nope, you?"

I gave him a substantial stupid smile, "I'll tell you when we get to the restaurant. You, my cute dumpling, are going to buy me food to congratulate me."

Greg and I have been giving each other the weirdest nicknames ever since he calls me short stack.

***

As we walked in the rain, I held the umbrella on top of both of us. It's so comfortable stepping on my tippy-toe, trying to keep two people dry.

There was a part of me that wanted to run away and carry the umbrella with me. Greg can get soaked for all I care.

"Geez, Greg! What does your mom feed you?" I struggle to hold the umbrella up. Greg wasn't a gentleman when we walked out of the building. He handed me the umbrella and told me to hold it.

He looked down at me and smirked. "Not what your mom feeds you."

"Are you implying I'm short?"

"I'm not implying. You are short."

"I am of normal height! You're just way too tall! It's like you stole all of my height!" I scream as I continue attempting to hold the umbrella up. I should've made shorter friends.

We stopped walking as he turned towards me. He bends his knees, positioning his face in front of mine. "Better?"

I can feel my cheeks reddening as his minty hot breath hits me. As I stare into his hypnotizing eyes, I can hear the rain hitting the sidewalk. He gave me a light smile as he placed his rough hands on my cheek, rubbing his thumb gently. I felt his thumb getting closer and closer to my lip.

I jumped back and immediately turned towards the sound of honking, hitting my forehead on a pole. I dropped the umbrella as I held both of my hands on my head. "Owwww."

Greg rushed towards me, cupping his hands on my cheeks, staring at my forehead. I stared at his worried face as the water hit his light red cheeks. Water was dripping off of his sharp, clean jawline. I can feel my cheeks heating as the cold rainwater drips from my hair onto my face.

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

I couldn't hear anything except the sound of heartbeats.

Is it mine? Or is it his?

Another honking sound seemingly brought me back into reality. I jumped back from Greg's embrace and grabbed the umbrella. Placing a hand on my chest, I attempt to lower my heartbeat.

Greg and I often have these tempestuous moments.

These moments make me feel like we are the only two people in the world, similar to how we first met. After every time we have these moments, a rush of guilt follows.

My boyfriend. I love my boyfriend. I would continually repeat that in my head over and over whenever I'm with him.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you held the umbrella?" I shove the umbrella at his chest, his very lovely, firm chest. I looked at him and myself; there isn't a point in using the umbrella since we are both wet.

"Okay, short stack." He grabs the umbrella.

I stopped in my tracks and looked at him with disbelief. "Short Stack?"

"Yup."

"You do not want to go there with me, long bean!" I said in my best fake angry voice.

He smirks at me as he places an arm around my shoulder, pulling me inward. "Come closer, or else you will get wetter."

I can't help but smile at the nickname as the guilt roams around my stomach.

I don't like Greg that way. I don't like Greg that way. I don't like Greg that way.

I would repeat those words over and over until they come true.

It never does.