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luaveltarot · 1 year

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🪞ᑭᗩᑕ🪞: ᗯᕼᗩT ᗪO YOᑌ ᒪOOK ᗷEᔕT Iᑎ?

🪩🪄✨📸

ᑭIᒪE 1

Chaotic Art Academia/ Trendy Dark 🧲💣

Lol your style is the complete opposite of your selection of image which is the red necklace. It’s funny but let’s talk about what you look really good in. Ok so you are my simple 90’s minimalist chic girlies.

You look best in black but your other wardrobe faves could be denim, white, tan, grey and light blue. Your black/tan statement flat or mules go with just any outfit so keep wearing them. I see you have the masculine boss look to you which is again ironical with the pic you’ve chosen (I’m sorry, i don’t want to sound like a broken tape recorder but you get it, right?). Your black bodysuit looks really nice with tan trousers. Your oversized blazer enhances your style even more. I get that people love your choice in handbags, sling bags etc. You can still wear your white shoes everywhere, it goes with everything.

You accessories your outfit less, one ring , a bracelet and a watch does the job on most days for you (which is a lot for you ik). Your hair looks best when you leave them as they are and don’t fret over it being perfect and neat from all sides. You look tamed even with wild hair so don’t stress about it.　

ᑭIᒪE 2

Colourful trendy/ oh so miss perfect 🧸🛍

You like solid colour outfits and co-ord sets. You have a light and warmth to your fashion. It’s breezy, flowy and one feels bright when they look at you. You have a thing for light shades.

You look so hot if you wear turquoise liner to your eyes. You have a good sense of eye make up. You look your best in off-white and cream coloured shades. Coral, rust, latte and peach; shades of sunsets at a beach kind. You look feminine and in your power in midi dresses or tucked tops and midi skirts. Turtle neck tops and parallel trousers/ short skirts with belt accentuates your lean figure and you look taller.

You should wear heels often, it looks good on you. I don’t feel you are much of an accessory fan may be just a classy earring, also I think you don’t need accessories since your make up holds all the glamour. Instead I get you are more into hair accessories like hair scarves and hats. You understand your style very well so I don’t need to say anything more.

ᑭIᒪE 3

The hippie baby/ colourful vintage 🎨 🗝

Colourful butterflies or should I say vibrant chameleons ( not in a bad way,I just feel whatever you wear , that colour looks good on you). I get aquatic kind of neon colours, something that catches the eye. You wear colours related to water, wellness and nature.

You look best in pink-orange colours and light blue- dark blue colours, shades of sea and candy pink. You look best in patterned clothes which have a boho edge. You look elegant and put together in skirts with crop tops and even an oversized jumpsuit. I don’t get any specific styles that you look best in because you have many styles, your mood reflects in your outfits and you like to dress accordingly. Though you could look great in floral patterned clothes, beach prints and abstract arts.

You are into accessories, you match your bags, footwear and glasses accordingly. You could like to wear rings in all fingers and if you don’t then you should try it, I feel it will make you more chic even if you choose to dress lazily.

ᑭIᒪE 4

Boss chic/ Flashlight on you 🔦 📸

You have Capricorn placements? A prominent mercury or a moon sign. You are a fashionista and have the model look,no matter your size, right, colour or hair texture. You have a look that turns people’s head. Your colours are silver, gold, purple, blue , yellow and red.

You look best in striped tucked button up shirt and dark blue jeans. You can have shoulder length hair and it looks exquisite. You can even wear a gold pendant or chain frequently or always which make you look dapper and elite. Your aura is really surreal with specs of silver and gold making you look beautiful.

You should wear boots often because that will accentuate your outfit. Try a kimono if you haven’t or leave your shirt unbuttoned and wear a vest underneath. Also a crystal ring or crystal bracelet covered in some metal will suit you. You look hot in two piece sets too.

ᑭIᒪE 5

Travel beauty/ ‘Who is that charming girl ?’ They say 🤳💅🏼

You are a true beauty even when you feel you look homeless. You have the, ‘who is that girl?’ Look, especially at airports and in grocery stores or even the girl who just passed by. You remind me of the meme where a guy who is with a girl has turned his head to look at the other girl lol. Your social media got many stalkers too haha.

You look the best in all white but if you want colours then wear a black top and red skirt with pencil heels. I also see that you look best in brown and black. You have an air of innocence in your dressing style which is draws in people like bees to honey.

For accessories your would look nice in caps, sunglasses, a watch but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to wear jewellery, you can wear earrings and necklaces but I just feel you look pretty in simple styles with light make up and branded high quality clothes.

ᑭIᒪE 6

Ancient witch / mythological goddess 🪄

You have a traditional look to you. You look gorgeous in your ethnic clothes or from the culture you belong to. I feel when you dress up in your social standings, you stand out. Then when you wear casual clothes for regular days people are taken aback by your transformation because one minute you looked so transitional and next you look like a model posing for brands in pictures.

You look best in traditional outfits as mentioned before, besides that you look really cute like kittens in dresses. You look pretty in sleeveless tops and relaxed fit straight jeans. Even a beach resort shirt with a sports vest and cargo pants. You look best when you have a sporty vibe to your personality.

You should leave your hair open mostly and a pair of earrings in accessories will accentuate your outfit enough to make you look just enough. Colours like orange and yellow look good on you too.

ᑭIᒪE 7

Fairy in the forest 🧚🏻 / Invisible crown Queen 👑

For some reason I feel that people find you unreal and unique in your fashion. You give off the severity vibes with the way you dress that people feel they’ve encountered a beautiful garden where there are many flowers and greenery.

You look best in pastel/nude colours and especially floral prints. You should wear the nude pink dress with little floral prints, even I feel enchanted by your presence. Even fur clothes make you look attractive.

For accessories, you should wear pearls because it will give you the moon glow and go well with your pastel outfits. If you have been feeling like colouring your hair then take this sign as a yes you can and also don’t cut your hair short. Your hair holds all the beauty.

ᑭIᒪE 8

Mermaid around the corals 🪸 / Angelic Baby👼

You look so sweet and dreamy. You look beautiful in shimmery clothes or see through tops. Crochet knit tops, trousers and skirts.

You should incorporate more of shiny pinks and turquoise colours in your wardrobe. Also purple is your colour. Clothes with shells or accessories with shells will enhance your personality

Stop being shy and dress as you wish girl. I feel you hesitate a lot in dressing authentically. Embrace your ethereal beauty, stop being the mermaid who hides in the abyss of darkness to protect herself from intruders. You can look beautiful and still be in limelight, please don’t shy away.

ᑭIᒪE 9

Bad bitch who is all money 💰/ luxury femme fatale

You dress expensive. You have all the trendy high brand clothes which most people can only eye. You have all luxe accessories and make up products.

You look best in everything because all your clothes screams money and let’s admit, expensive clothes look good on everyone. Your silver dress, silver boots with silver earrings will look best just in case you ever felt confused about what to wear.

Don’t forget to paint your nails red because you are the classy and elite chickkkk. Always and I mean always wear necklaces and a heavy ring because they are meant to be shown off and not to be kept in drawers.

Thanks for reading. Have a lovely day or night wherever you are. Sending you love and healing energy:)

#divination #tarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a pile #tarotblr #witch #pick a card #tarot witch #witchy #luaveltarot #tarot community #pick a card reading

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leeknowlover99 · 4 months

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singles inferno with enhypen hyung line episode 1 inferno

masterlist

series synopsis next part

warnings: none really for this part ;) fluff, some flirting

synopsis:

Singles inferno - you have seen first two seasons on netflix and definitely enjoyed watching them but never imagined that you could be part of this show. yet now you were sitting in the helicopter which is supposed to take you inferno. to be fair it all happened very fast. one girls night and under influence your friends convinced you to apply. another day and you actually received positive feedback and was asked for a call. one thing lead to another and now you were here. your participation actually made sense. you didn’t really have time or patience to go on dates. you were mostly focused on work. since your first book was published and sold millions of copies you were constantly working on new stories and promoting yourself in social media. if not a boyfriend at least you’ll gain more popularity by taking part in the show. actually you didn’t really expect to find a partner here, but at least it should be fun to meet new people.

pairings: Heesung x reader, Sunghoon x reader

ep 1 inferno

filming crew helped you with stepping out of the helicopter and you were immediately surrounded with make up artists who powdered your face and brushed your hair. they explained to you that they will film few shots of you coming in and instructed you how to act. all of that was very rushed and made you a bit confused. it all looked much more simple in tv. but at least you didn’t have time to be nervous as you didn’t even have a minute for yourself. as the staff instructed you began to walk to the meeting point where you were going to see other participants for the first time. path was quite rough and you had to walk slowly in your delicate shoes. you didn’t want to sprain your ankle on the first day. you decided to wear a white sundress, nothing too over the top but cute and classy. that was the vibe you wanted to give off at the beginning. you posed for a camera and started to focus on the view in front of you. you were slowly approaching the space where few seats for contestants were arranged. you could make up two figures already sitting there. they slowly became more defined as you approached them. it was a blond girl wearing colorful jumpsuit and tall guy with black hair. they looked like total opposites. hot and cold. the guy was really handsome, prince like looking. when you came close enough you introduced yourself “hello i’m y/n, nice to meet you.” girl welcomed you with a warm smile “hi! i’m Lee Mina”. guy also introduced himself “i’m Park Sunghoon”. you smiled trying not to look awkward and sat in between of them, camera following you. after that camera man shouted “cut, next person coming in 5”. you took time to look around. surroundings looked different than in previous seasons, much more wildness and green spaces in the sites. you were pretty sure it was a different island. they also went for a different vibe with decorations, more rough looking rather than cute and romantic. that was quite surprising. “ugh it’s so hot, they should’ve provided us with some water” Mina started a conversation between you three. you participated in the small talk until they started filming again. this time it was a guy approaching you. he was quite short but very good looking, the type of guy who knows that he’s attractive. he greeted you with a warm smile and sat at the end next to Mina. “nice to meet you, i’m Sim Jaeyun but everyone calls me Jake”. he seemed very friendly, his aura made you smile sincerely. next person was a beautiful girl Soo-ah, you noticed that Sunghoon caught her eye immediately, however she sat down next to you. after her another guy appeared, he was slim and tall, had a pretty smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. he looked like trouble. “i’m Lee Heesung” he introduced himself and sat down. sudden loud sound made you all jump a little.

“welcome in the inferno singles.” said the recorded voice. you looked around others surprised that there was only six of you, they also looked a bit confused, Jake’s gaze was intrigued, Sunghoon frowned, Heesung’s expression was unreadable. voice proceeded to explain the rules of the singles inferno and at the end invited you to the cafeteria. after all of you stood up to search for that place filming crew stopped you. “before we move on we’ll shoot invidual interviews” director explained. one by one contestants were being interviewed while others could catch a break. sadly conversation between you were not allowed. however you took time to observe the rest of the contestants. except for Sunghoon who was visibly tense and restless everyone seemed pretty relaxed. Jake and Soo-ah disappeared somewhere, Mina was chatting with the stylist and Heesung was currently being interviewed, you heard him laugh loudly. next was your turn. you were seated in front of beautiful sea view when they asked you to share your first impressions. “Sunghoon seems the most interesting and good looking to me but all the guys are very attractive.” you honestly admitted. “girls are very pretty too, competition will be intense for sure.” you continued. “can you give us your strong point in comparison to others?” director asked. “hm i think everyone here has a very strong charming point, i hope that everyone will figure one mine on their own” you smiled gracefully. comparing yourself and listing your best qualities wasn’t really your thing so you hoped this answer will be good enough.

after shooting your individual interviews you could finally chat with others while walking to cafeteria. “there’s only six of us, this is so surprising” Jake started with wide eyes, he looked like a cute puppy. “thats so unexpected, it definitely limits the pairing options” Soo-ah replied first as you were walking down the hill. “are you not satisfied with the options you have?” Sunghoon teased. you could sense the chemistry between them. when sad realization hit you you stopped paying attention and slipped on the loose stone. you felt yourself get closer to the ground ready for a hard landing when strong hands grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up. you looked up your heart suddenly beating very fast. your eyes met Heesungs dark gaze. “careful Y/N” he said honest care on his face. you blushed involuntarily. he was attractive. “you can hold my arm on the way down” he proposed. you gently wrapped your hand around his bicep. his muscles hard beneath you fingers. he smirked at you. “but since there’s three girls and three boys everyone has a chance to go to paradise” Mina continued the topic. “i already can’t wait to escape this place” Soo-ah said wiping sweat of her forehead. it was incredibly hot in here but you finally reached the cafeteria. you slowly unwrapped your hand from Heesung. “thanks for saving me from the fall” you smiled. “no biggie”.

screams of others interrupted your conversation with Heesung. “all they gave us are carrots and chicken!” Soo-ha dramatically gasped. you looked around and all came to the conclusion that there’s nothing else here. “i guess that’s it. let’s make the best out of it” Mina laughed and started preparing the table. you noticed water dispenser in the corner and started filling the cups for everyone. at some point Jake joined you and helped you distribute the cups. “i’m so thirsty. can’t believe it’s so hot here” he commented. “yeah it’s definitely going to be hard in the daytime. but at least we’ll see everyone sweaty and imperfect” you laughed. when you finished with water everyone was already sat and one place was left next to Mina and opposite of Heesung. you were a bit disappointed that you were so far away from Sunghoon, him sitting in the corner at the other side of the table. you have already interacted with Heesung and Jake, but not with him. you felt a little knot in your stomach twisting at the sight of food and realized that you were actually very hungry. you didn’t have time to eat a proper meal today. you tried to open canned chicken but it was difficult with your long nails and you visibly struggled. “let me help” Heesung chuckled and reached out. he opened the can without any trouble. “you are my designated savior i see” you smiled, he was definitely growing on you. “anything for you madam” he winked. chicken wasn’t the best but you were not complaining. together with carrots it tasted quite okay. “i can’t wait to find out people’s ages and careers” Mina was saying “it’s so weird speaking to everyone not knowing that”. “yeah it’s actually really hard to tell” Jake agreed. “people in their 20s and 30s really do look alike a lot, but there are some small features and mannerisms that can give it away” Soo-ah commented munching on the carrot loudly. you saw Sunghoon smile at her gently. it looked like he was already hers. you decided you shift your attention from him at least for now. “who do you think is the youngest and who is the oldest?” you asked. “i think Heesung might be the youngest” Jake started “he has very youthful vibes. but i won’t say who i think is the oldest because i don’t want to offend anyone” everyone laughed. “it must be a girl then according to you” Mina picked on him and Jake started nervously explaining himself. all of you smiling and laughing. it really felt like you all were getting along well. cameras around you were pretty distracting but you tried to ignore them. “ugh bitter” Heesung frowned after biting his carrot. “here try mine, they are sweet” you offered still having a lot of carrots in your bowl. he took one and gave it a bite. “sweet like you” he smiled. damn he really was shamelessly flirting with you in front of everyone. “duh” you smiled back at him. you finished your food in a friendly chatter, it felt a bit awkward but you felt like everyone is warming up slowly.

“singles, you will now take part in first couple matching” voice startled you all. “what??” Soo-ah screamed. “already?” Jake spoke at the same time. “please look under the table where you will find a ticket to paradise. please write a name of the person you want to go with. after that you will give it to that person. matched couples will immediately go to paradise.” you all exchanged shocked looks, curiously peeking under the table. “yah, this season is crazy!” Sunghoon commented. “how are we supposed to chose so fast” Mina dramatically looked up. “i want to go so bad!” Soo-ah pouted.

“please think for a minute and write the name in a way so others can’t see it” director rushed you gently. you exchanged looks with Heesung as you reached for your tickets. you had a feeling he was going to choose you. you took a peek at other two guys and without further thinking wrote down the name of the person you wanted to go with.

“please tell us who you chose and why” director asked you. they were shooting the shots of everyone in the same time before couple matching. you explained your choice and you were all gathered in the half circle again to give out your tickets.

“first Jake” voice announced. Jake nervously fixed is hair and slowly took two steps towards Mina. she smiled when he handed her the ticket. as you expected Soo-ah chose Sunghoon. “now Heesung” tall boy looked down and slowly walked in front of other girls and stopped looking at you. you grabbed the ticket from him heart beating fastened as you held eye contact with him before he returned to his spot. Mina chose Jake and it was Sunghoons turn. small part of you still hoped he will choose you. however he stopped in front of Soo-ah. you intuition was right. “and finally Y/N.” you didn’t want to stretch it so you confidently made your way to Heesung. his gaze was different now, before it was hopeful - now flirty. you broke the intense eye contact before you could blush. “now all the couples will hold hands and make their way to paradise” voice announced. you watched as others left, first Jake and Mina, then Sunghoon and Soo-ah. after all you decided to chose Heesung as he was extremely attractive as well and you felt the strongest chemistry with him. you were still curious of Sunghoon but your priority was Heesung now. you grabbed his large hand and you slowly made you way towards the helicopter, cameras around you but you did not feel awkward one bit. “are you surprised?” you asked him. “no, i’m glad. it was quite obvious how couple matching will go.” he smirked at you squeezing your hand tighter. “you definitely do not lack confidence” you teased him squeezing his hand in response. “it’s nice that everyone will go to paradise though. but do you think the couples will last?” you asked. “i guess we need to find out sweetheart.”

bonuses

Heesungs first interview

“all girls are okay. Y/N caught my eye the most, i’m intrigued by her and want to get to know her better. i feel like we might look cute together. i would say my strong point is my charm, i’m not worried about other guys, i can get what i want.”

Sunghoons first interview

“Soo-ah seems interested in me, appearance wise she is very much in my type so i want to talk to her. Y/N interests me as well. I’m rather quiet at first but i’m definitely the funniest after i open up.”

Jakes first interview

“Mina caught my attention first, love her clothing and smile. i love positive people. my strongest point hmm i guess i can’t reveal that yet” laughter.

Heesungs second interview

“I chose Y/N as my first impression was further confirmed. she’s cute and sexy, we had many interactions and i’m confident that she’ll chose me as well.”

taglist: @caravm @semisemirin1i82

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen headcanons #heesung drabble #enhypen jake #lee heesung x reader #enhypen suggestive #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen singles inferno #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen story

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somejazzinthemorning · 1 year

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tightrope. 02

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 10.329 Previous chapter: 01.

“It’s nice to have you at home, mija.”

My mom picked us up at the airport and now, driving home, sunglasses over her eyes and a classy beige jumpsuit accentuating her figure, I could tell she was happy and at peace. Rio had fallen asleep in the back seat, his snoring almost as loud as the radio, and I distracted myself with my phone, posting photos from the previous day's celebrations on my Instagram. Her voice brought me back to the present.

"It's nice to be home," I smiled at her. The sunset was casting a beautiful golden shadow on her face, illuminating the wrinkles around her green eyes and lips painted in a delicate shade of pink. "And I'm so excited about your birthday party!”

She looked at me for the fraction of a second, her eyes widening. “Really?”

“Is that so surprising? It's not every day my mom turns 60 looking this pretty. Of course, I'm excited!”

She laughed, a sweet reaction to my flattery. I wasn’t lying. She was pretty.

Blonde hair cut in a bob, light make-up (but always wearing make-up), delicate voice, always so soothing. Ageing had always been something that scared me, something I was not prepared to face. But looking at her, and seeing how naturally she embraced the passing of time, planning a grand celebration to welcome a new decade, I began to look at the concept of ageing with a newfound perspective. She wore her age like a badge of honour.

"About that," she extended her right hand to my tight, patting it repeatedly to make sure my attention remained on her. "I'm counting on you to help me until you have to go back to Italy."

"Sure, I..." I lay my phone down on my lap, my mind wandering over my mental calendar, recalling all the tasks I had to take care of. "I have some work things to handle, but sure," I said with a nod.

“Great,” she said, focused on the road. "The first item on the agenda is tomorrow's brunch.”

“I thought we had the catering settled?” I asked, feeling a bit confused.

“We do, honey. We’re going shopping with Reyes and the girls afterwards, I need to pick a dress and it’s an amazing excuse to meet up again. Plus, it’s at that cute little bakery you adore.”

“Oh, I—,” I couldn’t say no. “Let’s do it, then.”

Madrid was looking beautiful that morning, a living postcard. The sun was shining brightly, casting its rays on the buildings and busy streets below, almost as if to welcome me back. Work and racing made me spend far too much time away.

As soon as we stepped out of the Uber, the smell of pastries and fresh coffee invaded my senses. In a pink, flowy dress, my mom rushed across the street and I followed suit. Under the big sign on the door, where one could read "El Retiro" in big, bold letters, Reyes waited with her arms open; Ana and Blanca were by her side, distracted in a conversation.

“I hope we didn’t make you wait for too long,” my mom said, already wrapped in her arms, in the interval of kissing both of Reyes’ cheeks.

"Not at all," the woman, about the same age as my mom, said as she turned to me. It had been a couple of months since I last saw her. "It's so nice to see you, my love.”

I stepped in for a hug, comforting and homey, just like all the things and people in Madrid. Reyes stroked my back with her hand, up, down, and up again, just like Carlos used to do. They were too much alike, and yet, not at all, at the same time. I blinked, forcing the idea of him to vanish from my mind. It was not the time or place to think about him.Blanca was next in line, but Ana, the younger sister, was already beaming at me when I stepped away from Reyes. Her arms were outstretched, ready to embrace me in a hug. It had been since the previous Christmas that I had seen her, when we had met up with a group of mutual friends for a night out in the city.

“Oh, I've missed you so much,” she said in a whisper, before planting a kiss on my cheek and pulling me into a hug.

“I've missed you too,” I replied in a whisper, before turning to greet Blanca. “We need to plan something.”

As I remembered from the last time, the place was small and cosy. The decoration, a mix of vintage and modern with a lot of wood and plants, gave the place a natural and warm feeling. We headed outside, to the terrace, accompanied by a young girl with long curly hair who would be our waitress. She sat us at one of the tables under a pergola covered in vines, which the small breeze made rustle.

“How’s work?” Reyes asked. “You’re still working with that communication agency, right?”

“Oh, yes. Trying to balance both things,” I said as I sat next to Ana. My mom was in front of me and Reyes at the other side. Blanca sat at the end of the table, between her mother and sister.

“How’s that working out for you?” Blanca asked.

“Tough, as you may imagine,” I replied. “I’m still learning in both fields, so most of the time I just feel a little lost.”

I laughed off the discomfort the reality brought me. There is nothing like doing what I love the most; there's no feeling like what I feel when I strip my work clothes and get dressed in my race suit, transforming into someone else. But that doesn't mean it isn't overwhelming.

Ana turned her body to me before speaking. “I saw the season is going amazing.”

“It is,” I nodded. The image of Carlos in my garage suddenly appeared in my mind. “Two races left, but I can win the championship if I get a podium in the next race and Pulcini doesn't win.” They had great smiles on their face, hearing what I had to say. “Maybe I’ll have a pretty trophy to show you when I get back from Imola.”

“Wouldn't that be amazing?” My mother's tender voice brought a big smile to my face. “I'm so proud of you, Evita.”

“Thanks, Mama.” I placed my hand on hers and caressed it while blowing her a kiss.

The conversation flowed easily as if no time had passed since our last gathering. The warmth of their presence and the nostalgia that weighed on every word we shared was palpable.

Without realizing it, I had isolated myself from these women who had supported me throughout my adolescence and helped shape me into the woman I am today. I had acted out of fear of being misunderstood, or of being forced, even unintentionally, to quickly heal the bitterness I felt towards Carlos. But looking at them, at the smiles they exchanged and the ease with which they could make each other laugh, I realized that, in some way or another, these women were my family.

My attention was brought back to the conversation when I heard his name. My mother's plate had been pushed aside, and in its place was a small notebook.

“So Carlos is coming?” Her pen hovered above his name, highlighted in pink. Pink for family. Orange for friends. Green for colleagues. Carlos' name was in pink. “That makes me so happy, I miss having that sweet boy around.”

I didn't even have time to think about the implications of Carlos in a nice suit walking around my backyard before Blanca's eyes drifted to me.

"Since Luisa brought up his name..." she started, her voice so low and slow that I could tell nothing good could be in its way. "He mentioned you were together. This weekend."

My mother fixed me with her gaze; her bright green eyes and pink eyeshadow begging for details. Reyes? Well, something told me she also knew about our encounter, but she pretended not to know it. She knew my mother hated to be the last to know about things. Ana looked at her sister, frowning, ready to discuss how, or rather why, that matter had gotten to the table.

“"When were you planning to tell us about that?" asked my mother.

"I wasn't, actually," I said, taking a sip of my mimosa. I called the waitress and asked for another one; I knew one wouldn't be enough if we kept this subject on the table. "It was meaningless. Not worth it to talk about."

"But what happened?" My mom asked, her gaze burning into me.

"He showed up at the track, at the garage," I said, pausing. My mom and Reyes both tilted their heads slightly, their curious expressions trying to get more details out of me. "We talked, and he left. That was it."

"That was it?" Ana asked, her eyes still focused on Blanca, almost as if she was making sure Blanca had heard the same. Blanca's face was a mix of curiosity and annoyance, her brow furrowed as she asked, "What did he say?"

Reyes stepped in and said, "Venga, don't meddle in their business." She glanced at me with a reassuring smile.

The girls didn't take their mother's request, as their eyes just glanced at me, full of curiosity and hunger to know more. All the alcohol in the world wasn't going to be enough to calm the storm inside me if I had to go through this conversation. Love and disappointment. What a killer duo. I forced a smile at the waitress, who had just laid a new cup in front of me.

“Nothing worth showing up the night before a race,” I had a sip of the mimosa. A big one. “Messed with my head and he didn't bother to show up to see me win it.”

Messed with my head. I think Ana read between the lines, because her eyebrows gently lifted up, and a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. I feared she would talk, make a joke, or ask another question, but Reyes interjected.

“Oh, dear… Didn't he tell you?” Reyes shifted in her seat like she was trying to get a little closer to me. “He came back to Madrid in the morning. But I assure you,” she paused. “He watched the race, he was seeing it on his phone, on the way home from the airport.”

Reyes' confirmation made more doubts settle down at my core and so, so many questions. Questions I didn't want an answer to, because, frankly, everything would be easier if he continued to be a villain in my story. Another sip of the drink. If it wasn't the morning I would absolutely order something stronger.

“He saw it?” Reyes nodded, his sisters seemed as surprised as me. “Jesus…”, I exhaled, leaning against the back of the chair. “And I called him and lashed out at him.”

Blanca cleared her throat and without moving my head, I just looked at her like a child afraid of being called out.

“You need to talk,” she said. My gaze shifted to my hands, to the candles on the table, the plate in front of me, of which I barely had eaten from. “Eva, you know that he has always cared about you, right?” Vague words my mother always repeated, in desperate attempts to make us solve our issues. “I know you two are stubborn, but he already did his part. Don't let this get worse because of some miscommunication.”

“Miscommunication is not the right term, to be honest,” I said. “Try lack of communication.”

"Eva," Reyes made me look at her again. I remembered to breathe. They wanted the best for me and for him. They wanted normality back. "Either way, you will end up regretting not talking to him. I assure you." She paused. "You will hate that way more than putting your pride aside and listening to him."

And despite it making me mad, she was right. I had collected enough what ifs for a lifetime already.

My mother had that look that all mothers seem to share; her eyes were filled with so much thought and emotion, and her lips were sealed, for she knew that I would comprehend her words without her having to speak them. Reyes' eyes almost corresponded to the same emotion. I just looked down, defeated in some way.

"I'll try to talk to him," I paused. "I'll make an effort. I promise."

"Good," my mom said, satisfied. Blanca and Ana had victorious smiles on their faces and I tried to pretend not to have seen them. For a short moment, I felt like that had been an ambush. "Now, let's move on to another topic before we get too old talking about this. And, on the topic," she giggled, "we need to pick the cake!"

We ate, we drank and he didn't talk more about him. At the back of my mind, I formed an image of Carlos watching my race.

To be honest, that conversation got me through the day with a feeling I hadn't felt in a while.

Perhaps it was the effect of the mimosas, the nostalgia in action or the image of Carlos in the backseat focused on my race. Either way, I felt lighter.

"Fish?" My niece's voice brought me back to the table. Her tiny hand was extended to me, her fingers holding a piece of the grilled fish.

"I'm sure Aunt Eva doesn't want your icky fish, amore," Rio said with a tender smile, cleaning his kid's hand.

"Dad's right, Liv," I said, wrinkling my nose and helping Rio keep the toddler's hands out of her plate. "I have my own fish, look."

Rio smiled at the scene, busy cleaning his hands with a napkin. "See? I told you," he told the little girl, as he deposited a delicate kiss on top of her ginger strands of hair. "Let's just eat and don't make a mess, okay?"

After rubbing her eyes and tilting her head to the side, a long yawn escaped her lips. Sleep was already softening her body and her twin, Grace, was almost asleep in her highchair.

As usual, during the summer, we had dinner outside that evening. Rio and his family had visited during the afternoon, mainly to take advantage of the pool, but my mom had insisted that they stay for dinner. So, that night, instead of the usual three, there were seven of us.

I noticed I had stopped eating to observe the twins and try to understand their sleepy mumbling. They looked a lot like Marjorie, my brother's wife. Ginger hair, tiny freckles, sweet disposition, and a lot of good humour. From Rio, they got the deep green eyes and the never-ending energy.

My mother used to say they were a half-Scottish copy of Rio, but my dad would disagree. Even though I didn't want kids of my own, or at least not in the near future, I envied the love Rio had found and what he had created. He used to say "love at first sight" all the time, especially in the early weeks of their relationship, and then they would look at each other with the most endearing smiles.

I remember meeting Marjorie in my kitchen one Friday morning, still in my pyjamas, while they were having breakfast. Rio introduced us and left for class, leaving her alone at home like we were already family. It was only then, after almost an hour of talking with her, that I learned that she was an exchange student and they had met that night, in a bar.

“I need to find a way to make her exchange Edinburgh for Madrid, for real this time,” he told us at dinner that night. And he managed to do it. From that night out, from what would have been a simple one-night stand, had born a family.

That was what I envied—the simplicity, how they had found their way to each other with no detours. Rio never had to make her exchange Edinburgh for Madrid, because since the beginning she knew it was meant to be in Madrid. With him. For him. For the family they were meant to build.

Meanwhile, I felt utterly and completely lost.

I was so confused as to what to do; whether I should accept the destiny that we had set for ourselves or take a step back and hear what he had to say. I had made a promise; I would try to talk to him, but each time I imagined him in front of me, I could feel my heart sink, a void consuming me from the inside. And looking back at that night, the way he just fit inside my garage and seemed so right walking around my car, and how quickly all the emotions and feelings had resurfaced, just trying to speak with him seemed like a terrible decision.

I owed him an apology for last Sunday's call; nothing more. There was no point in going back beyond that weekend. As I had taken years to learn, he didn’t owe me anything. I had learned to live with the choices we had made; there was no point in rethinking them.

But I had made a promise.

I drank a bit of my wine, my eyes roaming around the table, my body relaxing again as the warm breeze ran across the table.

By the time we had finished our dinner, the sun had already set. Taking my glass in one hand and the small plate with ice cream in the other, I made my way towards the small blanket my mother had spread next to the pool. I sat down between Marjorie and Rio, both busy feeding the kids their ice cream, as both of them struggled to keep their eyes open. It didn't take much until they fell asleep in the blanket, with their bellies full and chocolate stains on the pretty sage green dresses they were wearing.

The smell of freshly cut grass and the familiar aroma of homemade ice cream took me back to my childhood. That, along with the arrival of people I thought would stay in the past, and maybe the glasses of wine I drank at dinner, left me feeling overwhelmed. Too many opinions, too many expectations.

I tried to distract myself from all that.

Rio was attempting his best to try and persuade my father to invest in a motorsport team one of his driver friends had recently joined, and Marjorie was there to listen attentively by his side. Her ginger curls were a beautiful contrast to her pale complexion, which was lightly kissed with freckles. As I lay down on the ground, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by Olivia's tiny curls, as my hands played with them gently. She smiled during her sleep, a look of contentment on her small face.

"That won't help me, Fabrizio," I heard my father say with a sigh, shaking his head. "Neither will help you. We drive and work with real cars. I don't need or want to support that electric car crap."

Marjorie giggled, "Told you so, babe." She patted him on the back, trying to cheer him up.

"Your grandparent would scold you if you talked about that near him," my father said, taking a sip of his wine glass before putting the glass back on the table near his outside armchair.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, happily being on the other side of the conversation, just listening, not in the mood to talk about my own issues. But my brother, Rio, seemed to take my father's words as a personal challenge.

"Look at Formula-E, papà!" He gesticulated, like a true Italian. "In a couple of years, these new branches of motorsport will take off. It's a good investment. And there's a lot of potential in the market."

"It's not about investment," my father said, his voice full of conviction.

"Eva! Tell him supporting electric motorsports is marketable!" My brother turned to me and I could see the frustration on his face. When I looked back at my dad, he had both his eyebrows up, ready to listen to my opinion.

"Sorry, Rio," I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Nothing about Dad is marketable. He's just a grumpy old man."

My dad chuckled, a smile spreading on his face as he reached for his wine glass and took a sip. "Eh, I'm not that old," he said, his eyes twinkling with joy and a hint of amusement.

Rio looked at my mom as if he was waiting for her to save him, but she just smiled and patted him on the shoulder on her way to my father’s side. He let out a deep sigh, accepting his defeat.

“Fabrizio, you know your father doesn’t care just for the numbers…” she said in a soothing tone.

“Tradizione, patrimonio…” I said, looking up at them. Those words served as a motto in our home.

My mom was standing behind my dad, both her hands on his broad shoulders, a big smile on her lips while she nodded to my words. Her French tips were hidden by my father’s hands, which he positioned over hers in a reassuring gesture.

“Exactly,” he nodded slowly. "Heritage, family…” He paused for a second, his gaze turning a bit more solemn as he continued. “It’s about staying true to my roots and the traditions of my family, and my country, and not getting carried away with all these new trends. You know that, Fabrizio."

“Also,” I said. “Dad’s main business is wine. Sponsoring a racing driver would be a… choice.”

“You are a racing driver.” My brother pointed. “Dad sponsors you.”

“Because I’m his daughter, not because I’ll be a moving billboard for his company,” I said, taking a sip from my glass. “Dad can offer support in other ways, but I don’t think it will look good to do it your way.”

My father nodded, a small smile on his lips. "I can help the guy move into a real Motorsport series and not that vegan car crap.” The smile on his face grew as Rio got more annoyed. “It’s so easy to get to you, boy.” An actual burst of laughter erupted from the old man, and my brother tried to battle a smile. “Send me his number, I’ll talk with your friend.”

Rio nodded, satisfied with his victory, and naturally, the conversation moved on to other topics. I continued to observe my family, my gaze lingering on the toddlers sleeping between us lulled by the laughter and casual banter between the older members of the family.

The first to move was my father, leaving his armchair empty and my mom took his place. Soon after, Rio and Marjorie decided to go home. My mother offered to help them as they made their way out, carrying on her lap one of the kids, while Marjorie held the other. I tried to stand up, but the wine had definitely taken its toll on me.

I decided to stay for a bit more.

An empty glass sat by my side, my feet touching the fresh grass. Only the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs could be heard from a lake a few meters away. Again, I was transported to the past, to the lull of days that passed without any responsibility, and when I was nothing but innocent and naive. And then, upsetting the melody, my cell phone vibrated.

“My mom missed you. She was all smiles when she got home.”

I smiled at my cell phone and looked at the horizon, at the birds that flew across, still painted by the dwindling twilight, oblivious to all this.

“I missed her too. I’m glad I could put a smile on her face.”

“As you always used to do.”

I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I liked the texts. Not the texts themselves, but to be able to talk to him. To know he was just a text away; that he was, once again, reachable.

That thought alone was enough to make me angry at myself. Deep down, I knew I wanted him back in my life. I wanted to be able to open my door and welcome him back into my home, to be able to have him around and sit with my family. I wanted to have him talking about wine with my father, discussing engineering with my brother, and charming my mother with words that never failed to make her smile. I missed him – more than that, I missed the person I was when he was around; the person who he inspired and encouraged me to be. I could try.

I could try. I had to try. I made a promise.

We could try to be friends. I could try to lower the expectations and look at the world from a more realistic point of view, setting aside my rose-tinted glasses. I could try to look at him, talk to him, be around him and not let anything resurface. Not the love or the angst.

I glanced down at my phone, the screen was still on. The little telephone icon in front of his name stared at me, its monochromatic colours prompting me to take action. My finger trembled as it hovered over the button and I pressed it, the action fueled by my too-many glasses of wine.

He picked up almost immediately.

“Eva.” His voice, both familiar and strange, filled my ears. Deep, hoarse and warm. I felt a shiver down my spine.

And suddenly, I was aware of the silence filling the air, a silence almost oppressive.

"Carlos." A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Hi."

"Hey."

I swallowed dry.

"Hi.” Again. He chuckled softly.

"Do you need anything?"

"Yeah,” Fuck. “I just wanted to apologize. For the other night—morning, I mean."

"It's okay," he chuckled softly, his voice gentle and soothing. The shiver extended from my spine to my arms. "You were upset and you had every right to be. It was stupid to show up like that. But, he made a pause, and I could almost feel the weight of his cheeky smile in my mind. "I got to experience drunk Eva. Although, this version was way less fun than that 16-year-old version that I got to know some years ago at my birthday party—".

I couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape from my lips as the memories mingled with the wine. God, that night was a mess. Embarrassed by the memory, and the sudden burst of laughter the memories had prompted (and that was probably thanks to the wine, too), I felt my cheeks warming up.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, too." I could hear him laugh and my stomach twisted. "I was a hot mess."

"Something says me you're still the same."

His words made my heart skip a beat. I didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fact I was talking to him again, or the memories he had brought back, but I felt something sitting inside of me. It was not love, not even close, but was definitely something scary. Something I had been trying to ignore for a long time.

“I'll have to disagree,” I answered hesitantly, forcing a firm voice I was not sure I could pull off.

“Really?” I hummed a confirmation back. “We should have dinner, then. Just so I can confirm or deny that.”

“Dinner sounds great,” and I regretted my words the second I spoke them.

“I need to travel to France Thursday morning, so… tomorrow? An early dinner?” Although half my mind was screaming against the decision, I found myself agreeing. “I'll pick you up.”

“Okay. It's a date then.” I paused, recognizing the words that had just left my mouth. “Not a date date.” I said, quickly correcting myself. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “I know, Eva. But I will pretend it’s a date date, anyway.”

“Ah, don’t get ahead of yourself, Sainz.”

“Fine. It’s settled, then. And it’s not a date.” He said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Not a date,” I repeated. “Have a good night.”

I couldn't get on with my night without my attention being pulled by the fact that I would be alone with him and only God knows when that last happened. It's not a date, I reminded myself. And I knew it wasn't, there was no reason to be that nervous, but I couldn't help the wave of nervousness that swept over me. Perhaps, all of this was my body re-entering its old habits, returning to the mannerisms that his presence provoked.

I had spent years trying to build a life without him in it, and I was determined not to let those feelings resurface and draw me back in.

That night, I fell asleep repeating those words in my mind. Reminding myself that I couldn't, better, that I wouldn't give into those recently awakened feelings and fall deeper into a trap I had spent years getting out of.

Self-discipline was important to me. Both Rio and I had been brought up to think so. We didn't always follow my father's teachings to the letter, but we did our best not to fall short of the maxims he had transmitted to us. So, the next day, I focused on annihilating every item on my to-do list, using my productivity against the anxiety caused by my "non-date."

My trainer had sent me a new workout regime a few days earlier, so it was the first order of business. I ran through the neighbourhood, waving at neighbours who occasionally passed by, mumbling the lyrics to a song from the playlist I'd been listening to serially for a couple of weeks. I stopped at a children's park halfway home, which was surprisingly empty, and turned it into my personal gym.

"You're going to be the death of me, someday" I sent it to Rocco, my trainer, along with a picture of my sweaty (but smiling) face, giving him a thumbs up, and then I headed home. Still running, listening to the same songs, mumbling the same lyrics.

When I got back, the house was empty, so the rest of my day was spent respecting my own time. I'd left the windows open, embracing the hot summer breeze, put music on the speakers and, line by line, annihilated my to-do list.

"8.30? Does it work for you?" Carlos sent, mid-afternoon. "We'll eat here. Need to show you what Italy has taught me."

He's cooking? I stared at my phone and re-read the text twice, to make sure I'd understood it correctly.

"Should I call poison control in advance?" I texted back. Enter. "Also, don't need you to pick me up. I'll be there."

"Funny." And, in true Carlos fashion, he added an eye-roll emoji. "See you later."

I think that's when I was taken over by insecurities again.

Sitting in my living room, laptop on my legs, the doors and windows open, I looked around and imagined us there: our younger versions, when being a Formula 1 driver was still a dream and the days passed slowly.

I remembered when I used to wake up and run downstairs to see if Carlos was here and if he wasn't, then I'd go out to the front garden and sit on one of the sofas, reading or studying, so I could watch Reyes's car approach our driveway. And then, as subtly as I could, I would say "Holla, Carlos" and pretend to ignore him as I walked around the house. Other times, I would sit on the living room couch next to my brother and I would feign interest in whatever game they were playing.

Rio would shush me and attempt to force me out of the couch, whereas Carlos would go out of his way to patiently explain the purpose of every button on the remote and the intricate plot of the game, even providing details of the backstory of every single character. I couldn't blame myself for having a crush on him, could I?

He was my brother's best friend, a good-looking guy who happened to be a racing driver, something that, not surprisingly, appealed to female attention. I didn't even dream that he would one day actually make it to Formula One, not that I doubted his talent but back then, in the fever of adolescence, he was just that boy.

When I realized I really liked him, he started travelling more, until he eventually spent more time away than at home. The first punch to the stomach. I stayed on that tightrope forever, thinking about what it would have been like if he had stayed in Madrid, and gone to college like a normal guy. Over time, over the long phone calls and the short encounters here and there, he slowly became a best friend.

He stopped being that boy, to become the boy.

I wanted to be around him. I wanted to drive in the same series as him. I wanted to be near him. Because he was sweet and patient and loved racing and loved to see me race. Because even after he became an F1 driver, fame didn't change him. And lastly, because he showed me that it was indeed possible to achieve even the most daring dream.

Until he ceased to be even that to me.

And now, I wouldn't be having dinner with the guy I dreamed of having a future with; I would be having dinner with the man who insisted on leaving everything in the past.

So, there was no reason for this anxiety.

From what I knew, he was nothing more than a stranger.

Looking in the mirror, I tried to find reassurance in myself and in the lines of the dress I'd picked. Soft, fresh and simple. I didn't want to cross any lines Carlos had drawn in his mind and at that point, I didn't know what lines I bore in mine.

The second I stepped out of the house, the warm breeze welcomed me with a tender embrace. As I looked up, I could see the sun slowly beginning its descent, and the sky was slowly being coloured in a dim orange hue, replacing the bright and clear blue sky of earlier in the day.

"On my way."

I quickly typed out a message to him as soon as I settled into the Uber and then left my phone to rest on my lap, allowing my mind to settle into the familiarity of the route I had taken so many times before. The journey was brief: in less than ten minutes I could already see him standing outside his door, anxiously checking his phone.

Handsome as ever. Button-down shirt, white pants.

Short hair. Shorter than last Sunday. He looked so fresh. So manly.

I felt like a stalker, admiring him from the still-moving car, as he waited for me at the arch of his own door, pacing around. That eased my mind; he was just as nervous as I was. He raised his empty hand up to his hair, passing his fingers through it. A few strands fell onto his forehead, and he gently swept them to the side.

I grabbed my phone, the movement making the screen light up. "Can't wait." He had texted moments before.

And then the car stopped, and his gaze rose from the ground to the car I was in. His eyes would have met mine if not for the tinted window that separated us, as he crossed the path from the door to the sidewalk, rushing to open my door.

Carlos thanked the driver and then turned to me. His face taken by the golden hue, the big eyelashes casting a long shadow on the top of his cheeks. Still lost in his looks, perhaps so lost he could have seen it in my expression, I found my way back when he touched the small of my back.

A kiss on the cheek. A stroke with his hand, just like his mother had done the day before.

“Shall we?” I finally said, breaking the silence.

He was quick to agree and direct me inside, in front of him. I knew the way, of course. I could draw this house from memory.

When I was almost at the door, he hastened his steps and I noticed a sudden burst of energy in him as if he had remembered the courtesy he had momentarily forgotten. He then hurried to open the door for me. As I stepped inside I felt some memories flooding back.

The house looked the same. Large, spacious, high ceilings, beautifully ornamented. It was a home. You could tell a lot about the Sainz family from the way the house was decorated. The fragrance in the air, fusing with the smell coming from the kitchen, embraced me and filled me with bliss. I looked around, as I walked behind Carlos. Small frames everywhere. I spotted one of my favourites — Carlos, Rio and me in Australia, on the day of his F1 debut. I smiled. I had that frame in my house too, right on the mantel.

"Still the same, no?" He said, his voice interrupting my thoughts and I realized I had stopped to watch the frames.

There was one photo that was new, a picture of Carlos standing proudly with the golden Silverstone trophy in his hands. My eyes lingered on that one—his big smile, the hair whipped by the wind.

"Yeah," I nodded. A brief pause. Just enough time to remember why I was there. I twisted around on my feet and turned back to him. "What did you cook?"

He motioned me to follow him and I obliged. Through the hallways I knew so well, he directed us to the kitchen.

"Pasta. From scratch." He said with a smug smile on his lips. Carlos then turned back to me, standing near the two plates laid on the counter.

Just by looking at them, I understood why Carlos had blended so fast into the Ferrari crew. The smell and the perfectly arranged piles of pasta, drizzled with an orange sauce, told me everything I needed to know about how well he had acquainted himself with Italy.

"I can't promise it'll be the best you've ever tasted," he said, carefully balancing both plates in his hands. "But it has the most important ingredient, so it won't be too bad."

I walked to him, stopping in front of him and attentively studying the plates.

"I don't see any cheese on it," I said teasingly. When I looked up at him, I drew my eyebrows together, but his grin and the lightness of his expression made me immediately smile. He laughed a deep chuckle that rumbled through the kitchen, stripping away all my shields.

"I meant love, Eva." He circled around me in a couple of rushed steps, the plates not even moving.

"Does that taste as good as Parmigiano Reggiano?" He rolled his eyes, making my lips curve involuntarily. I missed his cheesy jokes and I hope he missed me teasing him about them. "Did you pick a good wine, at least?"

"Nah. That's your only task for tonight," he said, before leaving the room. His voice echoed from the hallway, "You know where to find the bottles."

I knew exactly where to find them. Turning the corner of the hallway, I headed to the pantry. My steps resonated between the walls and, for a second, I felt comfortable. Light. The interior of the pantry still had the same smell and the shelves were organized the same way.

Nostalgia hit me hard in the chest.

Carefully arranged at the end of the pantry, the bottles were standing in the same order they had been standing in for years, as if time had frozen inside. In the dim light, I could make out the familiar labels; the same collection of wines, in the same order, neatly arranged. I grabbed a bottle of vintage red, one of the bottles from my father's winery. It would pair perfectly with the pasta and the occasion.

Stepping into the dining room, I held up the bottle in my hand. “Is this one too fancy?”

Carlos quickly turned towards me, a kitchen cloth over his immaculate shirt. I knew his mother would scold him for that.

“Not at all,” he said. “It seems fitting.”

The tall glasses were already arranged on the table, near the plates. Underneath them, white linen placemats were tinged with the twilight that crept inside, casting golden shadows from the large glass doors behind the table.

“Do you mind?” He extended his hand and I gave him the bottle.

His hand easily encircled the dark glass. Slim fingers worked to open the bottle. With a firm grip, he pulled the cork out with a single tug, producing a loud pop that reverberated through the room. My gaze shifted from his hands to his face, taking in the multitude of emotions that a single look of his could convey.

I picked up the cups and let him fill them, admiring the glint of sunlight reflecting off the glass as he laid the bottle on the table. I propped my hand on the back of a chair, leaning in and taking a deep breath as I moved the glass in front of my nose, inhaling the sweet aroma of the drink. I took a sip, and I was content with my choice.

“I knew I could trust you for that,” he said, with a warm smile on his face. “Some things never change, huh?” he added, almost as if to himself. I nodded in agreement, giving him his cup.

He gestured towards the plates and I took my seat, waiting for him to do the same. We ate in silence, the only sound being the sound of cutlery against porcelain. It was strange, but comforting to be here again, with him. I felt like time had stopped and we were back to the days when we were just friends, before all the changes that had been made.

Carlos didn't say much, but I could tell he was enjoying the food. He smiled at me every now and then, and sometimes I caught his eyes lingering on me while I ate.

“It’s not bad, you know?” I broke the silence, taking the napkin to my lips. “Parmigiano would work better than love, but it’s the chef’s choice, I guess.”

He let out a deep chuckle. “Maybe. But the chef is still learning, so he's open to suggestions.”

“I’ve made my suggestion. Go get us some cheese.”

He laughed again and rose from his chair. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

In his absence, my eyes traced the lines of the curtains, the table, the walls, and the door that just half an hour ago had been the barrier between us. I heard Carlos' steps coming back down the hallway before I saw him. In his hand, a bowl of freshly grated Parmigiano.

“Brought this home a few weeks ago,” he said, with a note of pride in his voice. “One of the mechanics gave this to me in Maranello.”

“I think it will do the trick,” I took the bowl in my hands under his focused gaze and, with the help of a spoon, I sprinkled our plates with the cheese. He immediately took his fork and had a bit of the pasta. His smile grew. “See? You can’t make this without the cheese.”

“In my defence,” he leaned back, hands up in surrender. “I didn’t want to overpower the other flavours.”

“Right,” I replied, a hint of irony in my words. “Just like I don’t add mint to my mojitos because I want to taste the rum…”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room. "Okay, guilty as charged." Feeling the familiarity of the moment settle in, I went back to my pasta, now sprinkled with cheese. And God, now you could taste the love.

"Now, I have to admit. This is really good."

Carlos smiled and nodded, a pleased expression on his face, a hint of pride transgressing the glint in his eyes. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers. I looked up, from the big hands to the caramel-coloured eyes.

"Do you remember the first time we went out to dinner?" He asked, his voice soft and calm. “Just the two of us?”

“I do,” the memories were fast to arrive. “It was the day you passed your driver’s test, wasn’t it?” He nodded. “Rio was still sick from that shady sushi place.”

The broad grin he used on his face turned into a hearty laugh, no doubt remembering my brother’s awful food poisoning episode which had kept him in bed for a few days. Despite my resistance to joining Carlos alone, that night turned out to be amazing. If I closed my eyes, I could picture the restaurant and view from the table we sat at; it was scary how imprinted that moment was in my mind.

“You drove like an old lady,” I teased him. “I’d never seen you that nervous.”

He shook his head, his laugh seeming to still linger inside, as his lips stood open, curved up. His eyes twinkled in the dim light of the room, getting a bit darker every minute. “That was because one,” he held up one finger, “I didn’t want to get a speeding ticket and two,” he held up another, “I wanted to make a good impression.”

"And here we are, what? Ten years later?" I said, taking a sip from my wine glass. "And you still drive like an old lady."

"About that, I can disagree.” He put his hands together and rested his chin on them. "But I am still trying to make a good impression, though."

God. This man. I looked at him, truly taking in his face, his eyes, his lips, his hair. He was more handsome than ever. I could see the emotions playing on his face, regret and sorrow walking hand in hand until they reached his eyes and a dark gaze seemed to appear over them. I realized, then, I had dropped my smile.

"It truly doesn't matter if you can make a good impression today," I said. "No matter how hard I try, these last years won't disappear."

"Why did you decide to come here, then?"

"I promised your mother I would try to mend things," I noticed the words didn't sit well with him. "Why did you invite me?"

"Because I wanted—want to mend things. I miss having you around."

I shook my head, feeling my frustration grow. My restless fingers held tightly to the brim of the placemat, my body twitching with tension as I tried to find the right words. I leaned back, meeting the back of the chair, my eyes on his face. He dragged his hands over his face, stopping at his chin, where the fingers lingered in.

"Go ahead." He finally spoke again. "Tell me everything you've been saving for these last years. I deserve to hear it."

His eyes were soft, his face open and honest. I could see the sincerity in his words and it made me pause. A part of me wanted to tell him everything I had been feeling all these years, to finally let it all out and show him how much he had hurt me. But another part of me, the part that still held a flame of hope, was afraid.

"No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't think that's necessary. I guess we just grew apart, that happens to people."

“That’s the polite answer, Eva. Just—” I heard a sigh, not an impatient one. It was rather a hesitant one, not knowing what to expect. “Just tell me what you feel. Or rather, what you felt.”

I looked at him for a second. A sheer second that I regretted with my whole body and soul. He had a powerful stare, which was one of his strongest details. The stare, the way his gaze pierces in and invades one's mind... Trying to escape it, I glanced at my glass, feeling the need to drown myself in the red wine.

“If it’s liquid courage you need,” he moved his hand to the bottle.

“I don’t need to be drunk to talk to you.”

“To talk about this,” he filled my glass and I brought the cup to my lips. “Not to talk to me.”

“Semantics.”

"I won't fight you on that," he filled his own glass and then, as the end of the bottle met the table, he raised his eyes up to mine. "I've done my part, now do yours. Try."

"You had a different life." I started. "I will never understand what you went through and how that universe of yours works. I never understood and never will." I paused. "But I tried to. Believe me, Carlos, I did. But I got so tired of all the excuses and being put on the second plan. Always coming in second." The noise he made when he got up, his cutlery clanking against the plate and the chair dragging on the floor, made me look at him.

He walked until he reached my side of the table and pushed a chair. He sat by my side, chair turned to me, his legs apart, just enough that I could turn to him and fit right there, without our knees bumping. I looked down, at his hands lying on his tights.

"Eva." His voice was soft, full of regret. Once again, my heart sank. His hand moved gently, touching my arm. I turned to him, slightly, and then his hands went back to his lap.

"The person you became was so insensitive. And it was so... not you." I looked up, finding strength in his eyes. Hurt and curious in the same measure. "And looking back, you hadn't been yourself for a while before I decided to just... step back. I don't blame you. Life got in the way. I just got hurt. I held you to such high expectations. And that's on me."

Silence. The damned silence said so much. I didn't dare to look away from him and he didn't move an inch, didn't say a word.

"Silverstone," I recollected the image of the colorful frame, the one that had grabbed my attention before. I turned to him, now completely. "I can't tell you how much it hurt because I was so happy for you." My heart kept sinking, tears rising in response. My heart could explode. "I was so proud of you. I wanted to text you, but I couldn't. I mean, I could." He was nodding at every sentence. His gaze was on mine. I don't know how I didn't cave in right there, in front of him. "I could, right?" He answered me with silence. "I could have texted you but I sincerely thought that you didn't want me to. I think that's it." I shrugged. "I just understood you didn't want me around and that was almost too tough to swallow."

We sat in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, thinking about all the things we used to do and I was committed to trying to understand why we became these people. These strangers.

"I had to let you go." The words echoed in the room. "I was giving you half, or a third of what you deserved. It was not good for any of us. We were stuck in a place where none of us was getting the things we needed and deserved. I think you understand that. And the way I did it, just running away from a talk, forcing you to back away... I was selfish."

A third was enough. More than enough. I wanted to say.

"I had my fair share of selfish actions, don't worry." A sad smile emerged on his face, as he saw mine. "I believed you owed me something. Deep down, everything I did was because I wanted you to give it back. The support, the love, the attention..."

"What do you mean?"

"I did it because I was in love." Was. I repeated the words in my mind. My throat was twisting into a knot as I poured out my feelings. I felt so vulnerable and exposed. "I wanted to be loved back. Maybe you knew that and decided to step away, but—"

I trailed off. No more words in my mind, just a void that seemed to consume me. He was looking at me, expression hard to decipher, which didn't happen often. Silence.

"No." He finally said, his voice soft. "I had no idea." I looked up, a watery smile on my lips. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"It does matter." He insisted, I looked at him, confused. "Because I think I might have loved you, too."

God. What?

What was that that I was feeling? Relief, joy, and a million other emotions I couldn't put a name to. I couldn't seem to understand his words and make sense of them. I shook my head and took a deep breath. My whole body was restless.

“Ever since that trip to the Alps. The cabin in Switzerland.” He slid his hands on his thighs until he stopped on his knees, torso slightly leaning forward. I looked down, our knees almost touching, his fingertips almost touching the bare skin of my knees. “I remember the storm, you know? Even now, that night is my dearest memory of those trips. Not the day I learned how to ski, or the landscapes. It's...” He looked at me. “It's how you felt safe just because you were holding my hand.”

“I wanted to keep being that person to you.” He continued. “The one that makes you feel safe. But I couldn't do that living in the UK, or being away for more than half of the year.” A pause. The knot in my throat tightened as it got harder to get back to those memories and the emotions they always carried with them, especially with his voice triggering them. “This was not the first time I tried to make things right, but every time I tried, it was harder. I had made more damage. And now, looking at you, I see how much I failed you and failed myself.”

“Carlos,” I whispered, placing my hand on his knee. Our fingertips touching.

His hand took mine and squeezed it gently. I looked at him, my heart opening up to the man standing so close. I had been afraid of this, of this bare moment. I had been living looking back to what I had lost but never to what I could conquer. A third wasn't more than enough. I knew that because back then I would have done everything to have him a bit more than that.

Carlos leaned closer. I closed my eyes. His cologne intoxicated me, taking control of my senses. Without even noticing, I parted my lips. I wanted him, always had. He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his thumb over my cheek. Every inch of me was begging for him. And then I felt the gentle touch, the soft and hesitant brush of his lips against mine.

“Please, don't.” I murmured. I put my hand on his face. My fingers felt the caress of his beard while they traced the line of his jaw. I stopped when my thumb reached his chin, and then his lower lip. I was incapable of moving and creating a gap between us.

We stood like that. Dangerously close. He just nodded to my request but did not move.

“I'm sorry, I-”

"Shhh." He cut me off, as he caressed my cheek. "It's okay."

And so, we stayed suspended like that: in uncertainty, in a half-taken step. Floating in time. Doing nothing wrong but far from doing the right thing. We clung to a version of ourselves that we had never experienced before and which was now opening, unfolding right in front of our eyes, a door we didn't know we wanted to open.

I opened my eyes slowly, taking in the image in front of me unhurriedly. My thumb found his lower lip and stroked it lightly. His eyes were still closed and his lips parted. God. I needed to escape that. How pretty he looked under the dim light, in such a vulnerable state.

"I should go." I didn't want my voice to sound like a whimper, but I believe it did.

His back met the back of the chair, a muted thud invading the silence. I got up. I felt my heart hit the floor as I saw him run his hands over his face. I couldn't read what was going through his head. The pair of tired, anguished eyes that stared back at me pulled the ground from under my feet. So dark. Covered by a haze that wasn't there when we shared memories of our best years and he was looking at me with bright eyes and a wide smile on his face.

How did we get here?

To this despair, this yearning for something that no longer exists?

I wanted to rip out, in cold blood, all the negative connotations that time had attached to his image and that clung to me like parasites, totally consuming me.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. He just nodded, as if he heard the apology my mind was muttering just by looking at me.

"Do you need me to take you home?"

“No!” Breathe. I reminded myself. “No, you don’t need to.”

“Let me rephrase that.” He got up. "Please, let me take you home."

Somehow, the trip hadn't been as bad as I'd thought it would be. We drove in silence, but our bodies spoke for themselves. I couldn't deny the energy that pulled me to him, that redirected my gaze to his face or his big hands on the steering wheel. It was impossible to resist the urge to look at his reflection in the rearview mirror and study his eyes to see if, like mine, they were betraying the desire we were feeling. If they were looking for me, if the haze was drooping or getting stronger as we, once again, seemed to drift away.

There was no way of knowing what was behind the door our exasperation had opened. It could be our doom.

We arrived in the blink of an eye. The second the car stopped, I unbuckled my seat belt, needing to escape the tension and desperation that was choking me. Carlos did the same. I didn't let him get out of the car before me; I didn't allow him to open the door for me this time.

"I need to apologize," he said, with his hand on the car door, already open. "For rushing things."

"No. I—" I shook my head. God. "We have a friendship to mend first," I explained. The door closed behind me. "That's more important than anything else."

He nodded. It was the first step. A new beginning.

And just like that, I was in his arms. A deep, understanding hug. The first thing I noticed was how tightly he hugged me, the weight of his arms pulling me against him in a massive refusal to let go. And then his cologne. He had been so far away for so long that I no longer remembered the notes of sandalwood and amber that always accompanied him. Cinnamon. And a hit of citrus. And finally, how easily I'd found my place — my face easily finding its place on his chest, my arms wrapping around his torso.

"Eva," my name, so close to my ear, bringing me back to reality. The weight of his arms disappeared. The distance once again grew between us. I turned my face to him.

I nodded. I was so close to breaking down. He caressed my cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin next to my lower lip. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to kiss him.

"The pasta was amazing." I took a step back. "Good luck for France."

His big eyes stared back at me, the slightest of smiles on his lips. And it was more than enough.

It was the beginning of the tightrope, the fine line on which we found ourselves, each slight step on it reminding us of the ephemerality of what we were living. Purposely or not, we had started a tightrope crossing and this time there was no net to catch us. We had to reach the end of the route. There was no second chance. We both knew it.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, his voice a hoarse whisper.

And then we turned around. He got into his car and I crossed the path to my house. The car was there when I got in and it stayed there when I stood behind the window in the entrance hall and watched it through the stained glass.

My heart was beating so fast, magnified by the phantom sensation of his lips still caressing mine. He drove away and I stood watching until his car disappeared from sight.

The first step had been taken. The tightrope was in front of us.

Next Chapter: 03.

Long-ish chapters are the way. Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments. See you around. <3