Chapter 18
eighteen
CAMILLA
7 YEARS EARLIER
I was in the middle of writing in my journal, just as I did every night before I went to bed, when the tapping on my window startled me. It was past midnight, and I knew my mom was already asleep in the next room, so my heart pounded against my chest as I approached the curtain and yanked it back to peek outside. “Julian! Holy shit, what are you doing?” I rushed to let him crawl through.
“A guy can’t sneak through his girlfriend’s window to see her?” I rested my hand over my heart to slow its rapid beating. “I thought you were a goddamn serial killer trying to break in.”
He grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me. “You watch too many murder documentaries, Mila.” He was probably right. That was the first time he’d snuck in on his own, but when his visits became more frequent, I always left my window unlocked—probably risking an actual serial killer coming through.
“So you drove ten minutes and scaled my roof in the middle of the night just because?” I sat on my bed and watched him snoop around like he always did.
“I had nothing else going on.” He ran his finger along the scattered books on my desk and stopped at the one with Cami written on the front. I nearly tripped over my feet to shut it before he could see what was inside. “Wait, what was in there?”
“Uh, homework assignments I need to catch up on.” It wasn’t my best lie, but it was all that came to mind.
His brows scrunched together. “You’re a shitty liar, Camilla Vega. You do your homework the same day it’s assigned.” Sometimes, I hated being so predictable.
“Okay, you got me. You still can’t read what’s in here.” The thought of anyone reading my journal was too embarrassing to stomach.
“Why? Did you scribble my name on every page or something? Because I’m completely okay with that.” I covered my mouth to quiet my laughter. “You wish.”
He pried the green journal I’d had since I was thirteen out of my hands and held it with a firm grip. “Then what could be so bad that I can’t see it?”
I chewed on my lip and contemplated whether to let him be the first person to see the part of me I hid away from everyone, even Mom. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about being a writer. I still think it’s a silly dream, but I had this idea for a story and I started writing it. It’s crap, though, so I don’t want you to read it.”
I knew once he gave me a boyish grin and his brown eyes lit up, I wasn’t going to say no if he asked again. “Well, now I have to read it. What about the first couple of pages? I could be like your editor.” Since I helped him with all his English homework, that idea was laughable, but he was the reason I started that first story, so the least I could do was let him read it. “Fine.”
I went back to sit on my bed and waited anxiously. It didn’t have a name, or a solid plot, and I wasn’t even sure it was going to leave the pages of my journal, but I’d never forget seeing the smile grow on Julian’s face when he finished reading.
“This is great, Mila, seriously. I think you should finish it and get it published.”
I scoffed at the idea of actually be a published author. “Yeah, right. I don’t think I’ll make anything of it, but I’m glad someone sees the potential.” No one ever saw me the way Julian Perez did, not even myself.
He wedged himself on the bed and held my face in his hands. “You wouldn’t be doing the world any good if you let this sit in that journal, Mila, and who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll write the story of us.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Maybe I will.”