Hot Chocolate

chapter fifty-seven, history.

- Camila -

I turned up the radio when we got in his car, not wanting to talk just yet, because I know I'll fall for his white smile and give him another shot.

We pulled up outside of the coffee shop, with at least a dozen bikes parked outside. "Shit... it looks busy."

"It's fine- I'm not really in the mood for coffee anyways-"

"Hey, you promised me thirty minutes and I promised you a coffee. It doesn't even have to be a coffee, just let me get us a drink and we can get it to-go."

"Okay." I gave in.

"I'll be right back."

He headed into the small shop, and I pulled out my phone to keep myself entertained. I flicked through Snapchat stories and Instagram, and five minutes later he came back with two paper cups.
"You like hot chocolate, don't you?"

"Oh, um yeah. Thank you."
Hot chocolate is mine and Theo's thing. I'd hate if he did that with another girl. God he's so oblivious but it's like he's doing this just to piss off Theo.

I took a cup off him, blowing off the steam.
"Where'd you want to go?"

"I don't mind..."

"Wanna go back to mine?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"No ones home, we could just do homework and talk, then I'll bring you home whenever you want."

I really don't want to say yes. This is a terrible idea, but I've got Theo on speed dial and I still need to talk to him...
"Thirty minutes."

*

His house is beautiful. It's big, and white, with a black door and window frames. It's one of those homes you'd see in a kids tv show, with a swing hung from a tree on the front yard.

I wiped my feet on the 'welcome' mat before following him inside. "I love your house."

"Mom would be glad to hear that. She's the one who keeps it in check."

He took off his shoes so I did the same, letting the soft carpet in his hallway soothe my tired feet. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

I was unsure of what to do, where to stand and what to say. So I didn't do anything.
"I was actually hoping you could help me with history, we've got a test next week and I don't know anything..."

"Sure."

He led me up the grey carpet stairs, to the first door on the left. He opened the door, and my eyes scanned around his bedroom.

It was nothing like I imagined it would be. His walls were white, contrasting to his bed that's large and black, with his computer and tv beside. He had shelves full of books, and a white desk scattered in pens, highlighters and a few textbooks piled.
His wardrobe was tight in the corner and his window was bright, lighting the whole room.