Will You Keep Me Alive?

Camilla licked her fingers after putting the last piece of cookie into her mouth and wiped it on her jeans. Her eyes glued on the book she was reading – she was so concentrated on the book, I swear her eyebrows were going to meet each other.

“Camilla, that’s gross,” I said.

She finally looked up, still munching her cookie. “What?”

“Licking your fingers and wipe them on your jeans.”

“It’s out of the habit,” she reasoned.

I sighed as she looked back down on her book. Camilla was a bit different that you thought she was – she was beautiful and everyone’s first impressions on her were that she was calm, quiet, and girly. But really, she was straightforward when you got to know her, she was a bit gross (i.e: what she just did), and she could be really wild at times.

Apart from that, her friends didn’t care and they kept asking if she could model for her. Either model for a photoshoot (photography kids asked this), model for a fashion show (fashion design kids asked this), or model for a video (of course, filmography kids asked this). She would gladly model for them and didn’t care if she got paid or not. “What would this world be if everyone expects something in return?” she said.

“Hey Camilla.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any plan this weekend?”

She thought for a moment. “Joe is going to make a music video for his friend’s band this Saturday and he asked if I could help and I said yes.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

I thought she noticed it because she then continued, “But the shooting’s at night. You want to hang out?”

I lightened up. “Yeah, actually we’re going to have barbecue in my place and I think you never meet any of my highschool friends – besides Neyla and Morgan – before so I think I should bring you.”

“Are they okay with it? I mean, some stranger suddenly appear?”

“They’d perfectly be fine with it! It’s not some kind of reunion – we always hang out when they’re around.”

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll come.”

“Great! Two PM?”

“Yeah, two PM.” She paused before asking me one more question. “Will Neyla and Morgan be there?”

Camilla met them a few months ago when both of them were in Tempe. Needless to say, Camilla really liked them.

“No,” I frowned. “Neyla’s got papers to make and Morgan’s busy.”

She groaned. “Man, that’s too bad.”

“I know.”

Camilla knew my brother was in a famous band and she knew she was going to meet my highschool friends – aka a bunch of famous band dudes, but she wasn’t freaking out at all. She wasn’t really into Kennedy’s band, but she had heard about them and I told her a listen of one of their songs. Let’s say she didn’t say anything too nice as her comment.

But that’s Camilla Rosario for you – honest and straightforward. People could define it as mean, when she really just being too straightforward.

- - -

On Saturday, everyone was gathered at my house’s backyard. Mom was out with her friends and maybe she wasn’t going to be home until dinner. Pat, Kennedy and Jared brought their girlfriends over and also invited some of our highschool friends. Just some – Kennedy and I didn’t want the barbecue feast turned into some chaotic party.

After changing my top with a bikini top and wore a pair of shorts and flip flops, I went downstairs and to the backyard. John who was leaning in the doorway whistled as he saw me.

“I like how you’re looking today,” he said, approaching me.

I rolled my eyes. “You like it because I basically like only wear a bra.”

“Close enough,” he said again, placing his hand on my hips, smirking. His left hand moved and his fingers trailed the tattoo on my side, sending shivers down my spine. His right hand grazed the tattoo on my right shoulder back. “Did they hurt?” he whispered.

“A bit, especially near the feathers one.”

“Aw. Sorry I wasn’t there when you were getting it.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Camilla was.”

“Oh, is she coming?”

I nodded. Someone knocked on the front door. Figuring it was Camilla, I rushed to open the door, leaving John alone. I heard him laughing to himself.

Sure enough, it was her.

I quickly let her in and we went to the backyard.

“I didn’t bring any swimwear,” she said.

“It’s okay, you can borrow mine.”

We approached Kennedy and his girlfriend Gabi. “Hey, Camilla! You made it,” Kennedy said. They already knew each other.

“Hey, Kennedy.”

“Camilla, this is Kennedy’s girlfriend Gabi,” I introduced them. Gabi smiled and they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Gabi said.

“Same here,” Camilla answered.

We then moved on. I introduced her to Pat, Laurent, Garrett, Jared and his girlfriend, Eric, and a few more. John was the last person I introduced her to, and we could say Camilla didn’t like him that much. We could see the way she looked at him.

Camilla and I went to my room so she could borrow my swimwear. She chose a pair of bikini and went to the bathroom to change. When she came back, she was also wearing her over shorts the bikini bottom.

“I don’t like John too much,” she said, placing her tshirt and bag on my bed.

“Yeah, I clearly can see that. Why?”

“I kind of met him a few nights ago,” she answered, “He basically hit on me.”

I was silent.

“I of course didn’t respond too much,” she said, “I only said he looked familiar to me and I’m not interested in lanky guys.”

Ouch, Camilla. Ouch.

“But it’s up to you whether you want to believe me or not,” she said. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

I nodded.

When we were at the backyard, I immediately approached John who was grilling some beef.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, encircling his arm around my shoulder when I was next to him.

“I want to ask you something.”

“A proposal?”

“No,” I laughed, but then went serious again. “Have you met Camilla before?”

“What? No!”

“Really?”

“I swear. What’s up? Why are you asking?” he stopped grilling to look at me. He did look serious. And honest.

“Nothing. She just seemed to recognize you.”

Maybe Camilla met a wrong guy.

“You might want some help on that,” I said, taking the silicone spatula from him and flipped some beef. “You’re never good in grilling, John.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Thanks for helping,” he said, kissing the top of my head.