Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Samuel’s outlook on life never had been bright. Growing up in a rather poor family with a single mother who was torn apart between working double-shifts and caring for her children plus an older brother who caused trouble for as long as he could remember, his life was anything but easy. The responsibility he had to take for himself robbed him of most of his childhood, and as soon as he got old enough to work, he fulfilled the silent expectation of his mother to financially support them. Not in the way his brother Nano tried to, by stealing cars or breaking into mansions. No, Samuel isn’t like his older brother. Just the thought of breaking in somewhere makes his guts twist. Instead, he turned to what his mother calls honest work, namely working as a waiter in various restaurants. By now, Samuel had learned to accept the fact he wouldn’t make it far in the professional world. Maybe the frustration about his practically non-existent education is part of the reason for why he searches fulfillment in other things. They make his life look brighter.

Like literally brighter.

“Fucking shit, do you want to blind me?” Samuel tries to shield his face away from the spotlight pointing at him.

“Calm down, I’m just trying to get the right angle”, Christian says, standing on a stool to adjust the lamp, “to make you look taller and all.”

“Very funny.” Samuel looks down at himself, partly to avoid the light and partly to check out his outfit. Jeans and a plaid shirt. “Should I change before the gig?”

“Please tell me that is a joke”, Christian looks him up and down, now standing in front of the small stage, “you really expect any groupie to fuck you when you’re wearing a plaid shirt?”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”, Samuel stretches the hem away from his body to look at the pattern, “its what I wear all the time.”

He looks up again to find Christian eyeing him with a knowing smirk.

“Besides I don’t want to fuck groupies”, Samuel adds hastily, his cheeks reddening considerably, “I’m here to sing.”

Before Christian can object, the entrance door of the bar opens behind them, a slim figure walking through.

“Are you harassing my brother again?” Nano pats Christian on the shoulder as a greeting before he jumps onto the stage in a swift motion and walks over to sit down behind the drums,  giving Samuel a slight nod on the way.

“I just told him that no one’s gonna fuck him like this”, Christian gestures at Samuel.

“It’s not like I haven’t told him before,” Nano reveals a teethy grin.

Samuel rolls his eyes and rubs his sweaty hands over his jeans. This isn’t making his nervousness any better. Luckily, Omar comes in just in time to safe him from any more mocking.

“Hi”, he greets them quickly, going up on stage and grabbing the bass, “sorry, I was stuck at the shop.”

“No problem”, Samuel smiles at his friend as he picks his guitar up.

“Do you want anything to drink during the soundcheck? Water? Or Beer?” Christian asks, already on his way to the fridge, “I’ve bought all the good shit just for you.”

Having a friend who owns a bar really is a benefit, especially for a small band that wants to play gigs even though no one knows them. And Samuel is more than thankful for the opportunity, even if he has to endure Christian’s ambiguous references as a price for it.

--

Carla doesn’t expect many visitors these days. She doesn’t even remember the sound of her doorbell, to be honest. Therefore, she needs a moment before allocating the high sound. She gets up from where she was sitting at her laptop, and walks towards the main door of her house, or more accurately her mansion. It’s still weird to call this her home though, even if she lived here for seven years now.

She remembers how she’d dreamed of moving out of her parents’ house back when she was fifteen, young and naïve and still thinking the world only had good things in store for her as soon as she got out of her personal prison. Now, at twenty-five, she can only shake her head at how dumb she was back then. As if the world ever had something in store for her that wasn’t cruel or harmful. Or annoying.

“Marina”, Carla’s eyebrows fly up in surprise as she opens the door, “is everything okay? Did anything happen?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot it”, the red-haired girl stares at her expectantly.

“Ehm…” Shit shit shit. Why was Marina here?

Carla never forgets anything, the habit of writing every appointment into her calendar, however insignificant it may be, usually prevents her from forgetting. It’s something she learned during the years of working for her parents’ company, and it’s something she does to keep up the illusion that there’s anything she can control in her life. But even Carla makes mistakes from time to time, or forgets things…

“Carlaaa”, Marina shakes her head in annoyance, making her curls fly around her head, “the concert! You promised you’d come with me.”

“Shit”, the blonde girl brings her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. The concert. Right.

“I promised it after three glasses of wine.”

“And?” Marina shrugs. Nope, that isn’t enough to convince her.

“I-I just have so much work to do and…” and I already run out of excuses, “it’s just a very bad time. Not tonight, sorry.”

Marina’s lips tighten. “Really? Its Saturday evening and you tell me you’re working? Is that all you do these days? Work and sleep and work some more? Sounds pretty shitty if you ask me.”

“Well, not anyone spends seven years on studying Documentary Filmmaking, or more precisely on partying and smoking pot with their roommates all the time.”

“Maybe you should start doing it”, Marina bites back, coming closer and mustering Carla’s appearance, “you look like a fucking Barbie in your pink jogging suit, and you act like one, too. Are there any emotions left inside that heart of yours? Do you have fun sometimes?”

Carla’s nostrils flare up with anger. She rises her chin and looks at Marina with a hard expression. “I have fun when I look at you with your pathetic band shirt or these ugly biker boots... I mean, why?”

Marina takes a step back as she chuckles in disbelief. “God Carla”, she rubs her forehead for a second before looking up again, “we’ll never change, do we?”

No, they’ll never change. They’re just too different to get along on most occasions, but something still holds them together. Maybe it’s the fact they practically grew up together, or because they like to bitch at each other as a welcomed change to the polite manners they were taught all their lives, or because Marina knows Carla doesn’t have anyone left except for her and refuses to let her cancel the last friendship she has.

“So, you really want to spend your Saturday night at home?” Marina tries again, softer this time. 

Carla’s mouth already opens to form another sorry followed by the usual maybe next time, but then something stops her from saying it. Or someone, to be precise.

“Who are you talking to, darling?” Yeray shows up behind Carla, resting his free hand on her hip. In his other hand he holds the shake bottle he apparently can’t live without anymore, and just the sight of him in his bright green muscle shirt and his stupid snapback makes Carla want to do anything than to stay in his arms for another second.

“Oh, hi Marina”, he waves awkwardly. The girl reciprocates his gesture, her smile a little too friendly as she does so.

“Marina and I are going to a concert”, Carla abruptly says, turning around to face her boyfriend, “she has this friend in a band and…” she looks over to the girl with wide eyes. Say something.

“Yeah, a friend of mine is part of this small indie-rock band. They’re not famous or anything. It’s just a small gig at a bar. And Carla offered to come with me, so I won’t have to go alone. To have a girl’s night, you know.”

“I didn’t know you were into indie-rock”, Yeray gives his girlfriend a questioning look, “you never told me.”

Carla shrugs. She’s sure that even if she did, Yeray wouldn’t remember. All he cares about is work and exercising and to Carla it seems any information that isn’t work-related or consists of a healthy recipe or a new workout routine is directly deleted from his brain. Not that she cares much. She prefers to stay silent most of the time, anyways.

“So, from where exactly do you know this guy again?” Carla asks as they’re sitting in the cab. She replaced her pink jogging suit with jeans and a leather jacket, the best concert-look she could find in her closet. Marina nearly had a mental breakdown as she went through Carla’s clothes, ranting about how every single piece either made her look like Barbie or some sort of Disney princess. But here she was now, her hair on the wild side of wavy and fine lines of black eyeliner decorating her face. She usually doesn’t use too much make-up, but she must admit that she likes her new look somehow. Maybe because its different.

“I met him at a party”, Marina says while she reapplies her red lipstick in front of a small mirror.

“And he’s a friend?"

Her red lips break into a smile. “Well, maybe I slept with him…a few times.”

“Interesting…”, Carla smirks, “is it something serious?”

“I don’t know yet”, Marina shrugs with a deep breath, “I like him. But I don’t know what he thinks of me. He’s charming, funny. But also some kind of mysterious.”

The cab comes to halt in one of Madrid’s places to be for students – or young people in general – who want to go out and party. The quarter is full of bars and clubs and cheap pizzerias, though Carla also spots a vegan restaurant, which is absolutely unavoidable in a place crammed with altruistic kids who want to make the world a better place. Pff, as if. Carla feels old all of sudden. Too old for all this.

And the impression won’t leave her as she stands in line next to Marina, getting pushed around by drunk freshmen who don’t know their alcohol limits yet. She balls her hands into fists inside the pockets of her leather jacket, sharp nails cutting into the insides of her hands. One of the freshmen behind them offers them a sip out of his flask and Carla doesn’t even turn around, but of course Marina engages in their round of drinking, emptying the flask in one gulp before giving it back with a provoking smirk. The freshmen cheer, and Carla is on the verge of taking her phone out to call herself a cab back home again. But then the queue moves, and she realizes there’s no escape anymore from the redhead whose eyes are a bit glassy already and who’s holding onto Carla’s arm a bit too tightly as she drags her towards the dark entrance.

At least the evening won’t be too long when Marina’s already drunk, Carla thinks. (As she will learn later, she was too optimistic with that).

--

Samuel holds his breath as he splashes cold water into his face.

“Calm down”, he mutters to himself, “you got this. You know the songtexts, you know the chords, you –“

The bathroom door is yanked open forcefully, making him jump.

“For how long do you plan to stay in here? Come on, the others are waiting for you”, Christian urges, grabbing the smaller boy by his shoulders to lead him out of the bathroom.

He shoves him into the direction of Nano and Omar who share a coke next to the stage, whispering “you look better now” into his ear before letting go of him to disappear behind the counter and prepare drinks for the first guests.

Samuel wishes the compliment about his new outfit – a black wide tee with matching black jeans – would give him some confidence. It doesn’t.

And then they’re up on stage and he feels as if his heart would come out of his chest any minute. In that moment he doubts all of the decisions that led him to end up in this torturous situation, like when he decided to learn guitar or began to believe his friends’ compliments about his voice. Or when he came to the conclusion that founding a band with his brother would maybe help to keep Nano away from the streets as he finally has something worthwhile to do.

Suddenly he realizes how many people stare up at him with awaiting eyes, heads of black and brown and blonde hair, and he not only doubts his decisions, he regrets them.

He hears his name being called and turns around, happy to look at something other than all those people in front of him, and when he finds his brother stare at him, mouthing “you got this”, he answers with a small nod before he faces the crowd again, more determined now. He got this.

--

“So, will he actually sing or just stare at us for the rest of the night?”

Marina rolls her eyes at her friend’s snarky remark. “You really need to chill.” She holds up her beer glass to toast with the blonde.

Carla wrinkles her nose in disgust at the bitter taste. She doesn’t really know what Marina thought as she got her a beer.

“And who is your…?” Carla gestures her hand towards the stage, loosely pointing with her index finger, “is it the front man? He’s kind of cu –“

“Noo!”, Marina shakes her head in an exaggerated way, coming closer to Carla as she lowers her voice, “it’s the drummer.”

Carla really doesn’t know why Marina thinks it’s necessary to whisper when they stand in a loud crowd full of people and nearly rolls her eyes at her friend’s behavior. Marina’s a prototype for the infatuated teenage girl, but as ridiculous as it is, Carla sometimes wishes to have Marina’s ability to fall head-over-heels for anyone who shows the tiniest bit of affection towards her. Maybe her life would be a bit easier then.

--

As he plays the first notes of their fourth song, Samuel registers that some people in the crowd actually begin to dance. He can’t help but smile at the realization people don’t boo them out but seem to enjoy their music, making him struggle with pronouncing the songtext for a second.

They won’t notice, he quickly reminds himself. It was the mantra he’d burned into his brain to keep his nervousness in check. You’re always way more critical about yourself than anyone watching you. Nobody notices minor mistakes.

Especially when you’re performing for a crowd that doesn’t consist out of music critics who already take notes for their next article in The Rolling Stone, but of young people who want to get drunk and dance for a while before swapping Christian’s bar for an actual night club. And Samuel was sure that many of the people in front of him actually were people Christian knew or was friends with. He was the definition of a socializer, and of course he’d made sure to inform his Instagram followers about the upcoming concert of a band everybody will know soon (his words, not theirs) more than once. Exclusive entrée, one beer for free, just 10 euro!!! was what he’d posted the last seven days in a row via his stories, and judging by the crowd of around 50 people in front of  him, his friend’s unnerving announcements had worked.

--

Contradictory to Carla’s expectations, the music isn’t bad. Not as bad as she imagined it to be the first moment they walked into the bar, tables pushed to the walls to create a small space in front of a stage that looks like it was built by the band members themselves with old planks they found at a scrap yard. And despite Marina describing them as an indie-rock band, they luckily aren’t that rocky. Not the aggressive kind of music Carla imagines when thinking about rock. Instead, most of the songs are rather light, spreading friendly vibes within the audience.

“That’s my favorite song” Marina explains happily while moving to the beat of a more energetic, catchy song.

Carla nods before her eyes flicker back to the stage. The singer seems more confident with every song they play; the insecure, wavy undertone in his voice barely detectable anymore. She observes how his hands play the strings of his guitar with quick and skillful movements and finds herself thinking about how the skin on his fingertips is probably all rough from playing so much. All of sudden realization kicks in and she rapidly closes her eyes to prevent herself from getting carried away over some random band's front man while she clutches to a glass of stale beer right in the middle of the shittiest bar she's ever seen.

“Hey”, she feels Marina’s grasp on her upper arm, tugging lightly, “lets go closer to the stage.”

Going closer to the stage isn’t exactly in Carla’s interest. Firstly, because she can now even see the pulsing vein in the singer’s neck every time he raises his voice (which is way more distracting than the fingertips-thing) and secondly, because the closer you get to the stage, the wilder people are dancing. Marina immediately adapts to the hefty movements of the crowd and Carla, well, tries her best to not look completely out of place next to her.

It takes exactly seven minutes, one drink being spilled over her right shoulder and one comment of some random dude telling her to “smile more” to make Carla turn around and push her way through the mass of dancing bodies until the safe shore aka. the bar is in sight. Alcohol. She definitely needs more alcohol.

The beverage list lying out on the counter is wet and sticky, and Carla crinkles her nose in disgust as she picks it up with the very edges of her manicured nails to turn it around and look at its backside. Soda, beer, wine, long drinks…

“What can I do for you, princess?”

She draws in a sharp breath and prepares herself to throw a death glare towards the bartender’s face, but as she looks up and is met with a way too confident grin of a brown-haired man her anger disappears. He is…somehow attractive?

Stop being so desperate, she internally scolds herself, drooling over every second guy tonight, aren’t we?

But why not? It isn’t like the one sitting back at home is the man of her dreams, and a bit of watching will be allowed, no? Or a bit of flirting…

“Oh, you can do many things for me”, she speaks, somehow surprised to hear the flirty undertone in her own voice that she hasn’t used in so many years, “but I’ll start with a drink first.”

The bartender lets out a small whistle before breaking into a cocky grin as he realizes that his blunt attempt of flirting had actually worked.

“Sex on the beach?” he then asks, adding “I’ve got freshly pressed orange juice” with a wink.

Carla feels her lips break into a smirk. She’s way too easy tonight. But this is fun.

“No”, she waves her hand, unimpressed, “I already had too often.”

His face is priceless.

 “What’s in the…”, she looks at the menu again, “Royal Fuck?”

The guy lets out a small laugh. “Whisky, peach liquor and cranberry juice.”

She nods slightly and eventually decides to go for a simple Mojito. Whisky isn’t really her thing.

“And?”, he asks after she took her first sip, his expression eager as he leans himself over the counter, supporting his weight with his hands.

“Not bad”, she gives him the tiniest of smiles before sitting down on one of the bar stools, observing the singe– the stage, observing the stage from a safe distance now.

Chapter Text

“There you are!”, Marina exclaims with a smile, walking towards Carla after she pushed her way through the dissolving crowd. Her cheeks are almost as red as the messy bun of wild curly hair on top of her head. She fawns herself some air with her flat hand and sticks out her tongue for a second, sitting herself next to Carla who now has her second glass of Mojito in hand.

“Not in the mood for dancing tonight, huh?”

Carla shakes her head ever so slightly, looking into her glass where she’s squashing the remaining mixture of crushed ice and limes with her straw. “But I had a great view from here”, she gives Marina a small smile, “it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

Marina nods, knowing very well how to interpret her friend’s reserved comment. Carla liked it.

“Christian!”, the red-haired girl leans forward, grabbing the edges of the counter and pointing at Carla’s glass, “can I have the same, please?”

The brown-haired bartender nods at her from where he’s standing, already reaching for an empty glass and some limes to cut.

Carla doesn’t even know why she’s surprised about this. Of course, Marina wouldn’t want to go home by now. As long as she can remember, the redhead always wanted more, more, more. More drinks, more parties, more fun. More friends, more guys, more action. There weren’t many things Marina wanted less of, except for rules, boring people or world hunger maybe.

“So, you want to stay longer?”

Marina chuckles, holding out her hands to receive her glass. “You really think I dragged you all the way here to let you go back home after two hours?”, she sucks on her straw while Carla shifts in her seat, “come on, a little bit of fun won’t hurt you. And we have exclusive backstage entry.”

--

A huge amount of relief mixes with the adrenaline that roamed Samuel’s body the last couple of hours, making him release a deep breath as he lets himself fall onto the couch that is part of the backstage area as Christian had called it. In reality, the backstage area wasn’t more than the most comfortable seating opportunities Christian had to offer, set up around a middle-large table in the back of the bar and segregated from the rest of place with a red velvet cord which a) doesn’t fit the rather simple environment at all and b) is half as fancy as it looks because Christian got it from ebay for under twenty Euro.

Nano opens the backdoor with a swing as he comes back inside from having a cigarette in the backyard. He then half-jumps onto the couch, grabbing Samuel by his shoulders as he lets out a howl. “Fuck! We did it, Samu!”

Omar watches the brothers amusedly, leaning forward in his armchair and holding out his beer. “To our first concert!”

The boys each grab their beers to toast. Nano’s exaggerated movement makes the glasses clatter, and some beer sweeps over and spills onto the table in between them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Samuel registers three people approaching them. He turns his head and identifies the figures as Christian, the girl his brother is dating and... another girl for which he has no words to describe because his brain instantly turns into mush as he looks at her. Look, Samuel really doesn't want to be cheesy, but nonetheless the only thing that comes to his mind is: No words could ever do her justice.

“The groupies you ordered”, Christian says while opening the red cord for the girls, making Marina slap the back of his head a little to hard to only be a joke before she and Carla walk through.

“Hey”, Marina looks at them with a smile, her eyes lingering on Nano just a tad longer, “that’s Carla, a friend of mine.”

The blonde smiles almost unnoticeably, mumbling a “hello” as she looks at the three boys who introduce themselves one after another.

Carla, Samuel thinks as he swallows heavily. Carla, Carla, Carla.

And then she sits down on the armchair to his right and his heart is back at 180 bpm.

Does he have to say something now that she practically sits next to him? He probably should, so she doesn’t feel awkward since Marina left her side to sit on Nano’s lap. But what? What on earth should he ask he–?

“You know each other from uni?” Nano interrupts Samuel’s racing thoughts by directing a question at Carla.

“No”, the blonde says, her index finger tapping the glass she’s clutching, “Marina and I have been friends ever since. We know each other since birth, practically. Through our families.”

“Your families?” he questions further, more serious this time. Marina presses her lips together. “You mean those families that Marina here despises so much? Seems like you get along quite well for that.”

“Leave her alone”, Marina objects, sliding down from Nano’s lap with furrowed brows.

Nano scoffs, getting up with a disgusted look on his face. “You could’ve at least told me your friend is one of them.”

--

Carla sits perfectly still as she watches Marina follow Nano outside through the backdoor. Its something she’d mastered during the last seven years. Sitting still and staying quiet, even when she senses that things are going the very wrong direction. The boy that introduced himself as Omar gets up and asks if anyone wants another drink, obviously eager to flee from the uncomfortable silence.

The singer – whose name is Samuel as Carla knows now – shakes his head, mumbling something about how he can’t have another beer because he has to drive later. Carla shakes her head, too. She still has some of her cocktail left. 

The silence that follows after Omar took off to the bar is one of the most awkward situations she’s ever been in. Not as awkward as Yeray telling a befriended winemaker he prefers beer anyways after not being able to detect the different notes, but still.

“What does he mean with that?”

Maybe its dumb to make this any more awkward by explicitly addressing it, but Carla is curious if her suspicion is right and Marina still goes around telling everyone how much she hates rich people while letting her parents finance the tuition for a private university and pay her various trips around the world just because “she doesn’t want to waste her best years by working”.

Samuel leans forward with a sigh. “Don’t take it personally”, he says, kneading his fingers, “my brother had some bad experiences with…influential people. Rich people. And because of that he has some stereotypes.”

“Stereotypes?”, Carla lifts one of her brows, “that are?”

The boy starts tapping his foot. “I don’t know…that all rich people evade taxes and live off of the suffering of the poor, that they are bad people and criminals…”

Suddenly he looks up at her, directly staring into her eyes for the first time. Carla feels a sharp sting in her chest, not sure if caused by his words or the excusing expression in his dark eyes.

“And do you think the same?”

She doesn’t even know why she cares about what he thinks, honestly. He’s just some random guy that’s part of a random band she met at a random bar in Madrid. Two hours ago, she didn’t even know he existed.

“No!”, Samuel adds hastily while making a placating movement with his hand, “I-I mean there are always black sheep, no matter the social class, but I don’t..." he trails off, shaking his head and shrugging lightly, "I don't thin-"

Carla puts her glass onto the table with a thud to stop his desperate stammering. This has no sense after all, has it?

“I think I should leave now.”

Before Samuel can object, she gets up as gracefully as possible when you want to leave a place really quick, the heels of her black pumps clicking with every step as she walks towards the entrance of the mostly empty bar.

“Where the way to, princess?” Christian shouts from behind the counter.

But Carla barely hears it as she slams the door open. Her mind is already racing. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come. She doesn’t belong here. She belongs to– wait, where does she belong again? Her head turns to face Madrid’s dark night sky, no star detectable due to light pollution. Right. There’s no star to guide her. That would be too good to be true, that there was something – or someone – to give her the slightest hint on where to go or what to do with her life. Someone that doesn’t want to benefit from her lack of orientation by misleading her in all the wrong ways. But nothing or no one seems to be able to show her the bright side of life, ultimately leading Carla to following conclusion: there is no bright side of life.

“Carla!”

Her eyes close at the sound of her name behind her.

“Carla wait!” Samuel slows down his pace after he caught up to her, “wait wait wait, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for” she quickens her steps, making the sound of her heels even louder.

Samuel lets out a desperate chuckle. “At least accept my excuse when you don’t even try to hide it.”

She comes to an abrupt halt, making Samuel stumble as he matches her movement. “I’m fine, Samuel. Is that better?” The fake smile on her face dissolves. “Now leave me alone.”

And she nearly succeeds in shaking him off. Nearly. It’s the grasp of his fingers around her wrist that makes her freeze just as she’s about to walk away. The touch is gentle but urging, comforting yet firm at the same time. It makes her skin burn and her heart race.

“Let me drive you home at least.”

And suddenly they walk side by side as Samuel leads the way to the parking lot. After a while he slows down his steps, getting the keys out of his pocket. “Here we are.”

Carla doesn’t know what exactly she’d expected, but she surely didn’t expect this.

“Please don’t tell me you live inside there.” She’s not able to hide her skepticism as she looks at the camper van in front of them.  

“No, its our tour bus”, Samuel chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “my brother brought it along one day, I don’t even want to know where he got it from…anyways, now we store our instruments inside and use it to ride around, though it doesn’t make much sense because today was our first gig and I’m not sure how many more gigs we’ll have.”

Carla nods with a smile. Her sudden amused expression makes Samuel’s heart jump. “So don’t you want to tell me about how you’ve got sweets and puppies in there before you’ll kidnap me?”

For Samuel, it probably would’ve been easier to drive after having several beers (which he’d never do, of course) than to drive with Carla sitting next to him. Focusing on the road was barely impossible with her perfume lingering in the air and the way she looked at him from time to time. But luckily the mission of getting her home safely kept him from getting too distracted.

“And what do you do besides to play in a band?” she asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I work as a waiter.”

She hums quietly. Yep, his job definitely isn’t made for impressing women.

“And you?” he asks quickly, catching a glimpse of her face before looking at the traffic light again, waiting for it to turn green.

“I work at my parents’ company. They own a winery. It sounds more exciting as it is actually. The balance between paperwork and wine tastings is something that could be improved, but I’m working on it.”

Samuel smiles as his insides fill up with warmth. He could listen to her talk all day, especially when her voice is filled with that light joking tone.

Sadly, the car ride is over way too quickly and as soon as they come to halt in front of an extremely big house with expensive cars parked in front of it, Samuel feels the warmth within him disappear. She really does belong to a different world.

“Wow”, he says as he looks through the windshield, “do you live here with your parents? Or alone?”

Carla wishes she could answer the last question with yes.

“No”, she lets out a small sigh, “with my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Samuel mutters as his shoulder sag down slightly. Oh.

Even through the sparse lighting inside the van, he can see how Carla twists her mouth and looks down at her hands after his reaction.

“Thank you for driving me home” she says then, the small smile that's drawn over her face a mixture of sympathy and something different, which Samuel can’t quite decipher.

But before he can say another word, she opens the door, hops out of his van and starts walking away without turning around again. Samuel sits there in silence for a minute, watching her silhouette get smaller and smaller until she finally disappears into her mansion. And just like that, she’s gone.

--

Carla’s expression is blank as she stares at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her brows furrow while she observes herself. Her wild hair, her black eyeliner, the leather jacket around her shoulders.  Who is the woman looking back at her?

She doesn’t even know why, but tonight’s events have left her feeling weird. As if something had changed, yet she has no words to describe the change. But suddenly, there’s an image popping into her mind as she thinks about how she feels: its as if gear wheels that have been snapped begin to move again. And it hurts, because rust is blocking them from intertwining properly. But they move nonetheless, even if excruciatingly slow. They move and move and move – and as Carla will know later, they’ll never stop moving again.

As if snapped out of a trance, she puts some make-up remover onto a cotton pad and hastily begins to rub her eyes. She rubs harder and harder – just to tell herself that the tears welling up were caused by mechanical irritation and not by something as stupid as emotions. When her face is make-up free, she begins to deal with her hair. Its sticky with hairspray and so she brushes it aggressively, yanking her head to the side and ripping out hairs over hairs in the process. Her hairdresser is going to have a mental breakdown at her next appointment.

When her hair falls smoothly over her shoulders again, she strips herself out of her clothes as quickly as possible and grabs her rose colored satin pajama. She nearly stumbles because of how hastily she puts the pants on, finally smoothing down the material with her hands as she’s fully dressed.

Her head turns when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Everything okay in there, darling?”

“I’ll come to bed in a minute, just go ahead” Carla hears herself say.

She inhales deeply before taking a final look into the mirror. Better.

Chapter Text

The crisp February air causes a sharp burn in Carla’s lungs as her feet hit the musty forest ground with a steady but fast pace. She inhales the smell of woods and plants, still intense from the rain shower around midday. Now it’s late in the afternoon, and the thick clouds above her head darken with every passing minute. In an hour or so it’ll be pitch black beneath the big trees which should probably cause her to feel a slight amount of fright – it doesn’t.

She likes the woods, likes getting lost exploring abandoned trails, hopping over tree trunks and puddles of mud only to end up in front of a wall of bushes that forces her to turn around again. She likes the wilderness of it, likes how nature still remains untamable to some extent. And she thinks that the crooked trees with their patchy, misshaped leaves and crumby rinds are much more beautiful than all the perfect plants and bushes that are scattered around her neighborhood and garden. Pitiable creatures cultivated in greenhouses with tons of fertilizers, cut into ridiculous shapes to become caricatures of themselves. Its almost like mocking nature, really. And for what? Only to impress “friends”, neighbors, even strangers passing the neighborhood. We have a bush that’s formed like a horse in our garden, come, take a look. Oh, and that plant over there? One of the rarest of the world, imported from Kauai – or was it Maui? These Hawaiian Islands all sound the same, doesn’t matter anyway. But look how pretty it is! Just look! Look how much better we are than you! – It disgusts her.

And then she crosses the familiar big tree that fell victim to the last storm roaming Madrid’s forests. It’s big, curved roots stick out into the air like arms, creating a deep hole where they used to be buried into the ground. Every time Carla crosses this spot, she can’t help but ask herself if it hurt the tree when it fell down and it’s roots were ripped out of the ground after – judging by the trunk’s size – what must’ve been fifty to sixty years. And every time she can’t help but pity the tree, laying there unable to move, left to rot while all the other trees are towering over it’s dead trunk, looking almost proud about withstanding the storm.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Its nothing unusual though, that someone calls her during her runs. Normally its Yeray, pretending to be worried about his girlfriend getting kidnapped when Carla knows its just his usual controlling behavior and inability to leave her alone for at least one or two hours a day. She’s sure he’d implant a microchip into her if he could – and suddenly getting kidnapped doesn’t sound like the worst thing anymore. She chuckles dryly and slows down to take her phone out of her pocket. Her brows furrow at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh god, did I interrupt you with something?”, Marina refers to her friends’ heavy breathing. “Please tell me you’re not that much of a workaholic that you’re answering calls while fuck–“

“I’m on a run,” Carla answers quickly, trying her best to get the words out in between heavy breaths. “But thanks for your concern.”

Marina senses a touch of humor in her friend’s voice. Good. After the events of last Friday, she wasn’t sure if Carla was still mad. Although she excused for Nano’s behavior and Carla told her that it’s okay (“I don’t like your boyfriend and you don’t like mine, we’re even”), Marina wasn’t sure how much of a grudge her friend still held. But things seem to be fine.

“You got any plans for tonight?” she then asks, encouraged by her latest thoughts.

Do I have plans? Well, except for showering, eating dinner and questioning my existence I don’t have plans to be honest.

“Let me guess, now I have plans?”

--

“I won’t have dinner with you tonight,” Carla walks into the kitchen, tucked into a fluffy robe.

“Not?” Yeray turns around from where he’s mixing the same boring seven ingredients together like always, creating a halfway eatable salad. “But it’s the healthiest composition one can have: carbs, proteins, vitamins, minerals – they’re all perfectly outweighed” is what he tells her every time she complains about eating the exact same meal three days in a row. Unlike him, Carla actually enjoys eating; she grew up in a world full of delicacies and ingenious recipes, she learned how to relish food – and later drinks – for their exotic tastes and fine nuances since early years, and his poor excuse for a salad definitely doesn’t fulfill her needs. But Yeray seems to eat just because he has to, and then he always tries to produce the perfect nutritional balance in order to optimize himself – or more his body – even further. Sometimes Carla feels sorry for him, its obvious that his obsession with health and sport is at least partly caused by the bullying he experienced in high school, but then again she thinks that he doesn’t care about her mental health either, and so she just lets him. If that fucking salad makes him happy, so be it.

“I’m meeting up with Marina in an hour, we’re going out to eat.” Carla tries to say it as casual as possible, opening the fridge door just in time to avoid his disappointed expression. He still manages to make her feel bad every time she wants to do something alone, even though they spend like every waking minute together. Its unnerving.

“But I thought we were going to watch that movie together, the one you wanted to see…”

She closes the door again, taking a sip of the water bottle she got out of the fridge. “We can watch it tomorrow,” she shrugs and takes another sip. “Netflix doesn’t run away.”

Yeray just nods, fixated on the salad again. Carla clenches her jaw because rolling her eyes would only make things worse, but really, he can’t be offended now, can he?

Obviously he can, because when she enters the living room an hour later to say goodbye, he doesn’t even look away from his phone, let alone answers. Well, fine. At least he’ll leave her alone for now.  

--

She should’ve known. She knows Marina for 25 years now – okay, maybe the first three or four years don’t count because she can barely remember them – but still. By now, she certainly knows that Marina a) can be inconsiderate at times b) is extremely sneaky and c) not simply in love with someone, she’s obsessed. So it shouldn’t have wondered her when the red-haired girl casually tells her that her boyfriend (oh, he’s her boyfriend now?) works as a cook at the exact restaurant they’re sitting in. Nonetheless she’s somewhat surprised about the revelation. Apparently, there can’t be a peaceful evening with just the two of them getting wine-drunk, gossiping and complaining about their lives. Not when Marina is in love.

For a moment, Carla tries to be mad at her, but then she realizes its herself she’s mad at for not seeing through Marina’s plan of dragging her friend into a mediocre restaurant in the middle of nowhere so she has some company while waiting for Nano to finish his shift. Carla lets out a sigh as she bows to her fate and begins to scan the menu. She’s not interested in making a scene although she’s kind of pissed off. But if she’s honest that’s what their friendship mostly is, anyway: pissing each other off, laughing together as if nothing happened and then pissing each other off again. It’s just what they do.

“Do they actually serve us or do we have to order at the counter?” Carla flicks a strand of long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing even more of her pearl colored satin blouse. Next to Marina, who wears a simple black shirt decorated with a bunch of necklaces, she feels definitely overdressed. But their contrast in clothing is also nothing new.

“Calm down, its only been like…,” Marina taps onto her phone. “Fifteen minutes.”

Carla crosses her arms over her chest, her sigh a bit more melodramatic now.

“You won’t starve to death, Nano promised to make us extra big portions,” Marina leans forward with a wink.

“In fact, I am starving to death right now,” Carla says theatrically before her tone gets a little lighter. “I lived off salad and oatmeal for the past seven days and I swear if they don’t bring me a cheeseburger within the next half hour, I’ll burn this fucking place down.”

Marina shakes her head with a giggle. Carla wonders about her friend’s reaction for a second, it isn’t like Marina isn’t used to her talking like this. But then she nods at something behind Carla with a telling look, and when she hears someone clearing their throat right behind her, her eyes widen. She turns around with heated cheeks only to find a pair of brown eyes stare at her with sparks of amusement. Carla wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“Sorry that it took so long”, Samuel says with a smirk. He clicks the pen in his hand and licks his lips, trying to focus on his task again. “What do you want to eat?”

Her cheeks are crimson red by the time he leaves their table, and Marina’s dumb grin doesn’t make it any better.

“Marina!” she whisper-screams. “Why haven’t you told me he’s working here?”

The redhead’s eyes start glistening. “I knew it,” she states, unable to suppress her grin.

“What?” Carla furrows her brows in annoyance.

“You like him.”

Carla avoids her friend’s piercing gaze, leaning back with a thud. “That’s bullshit.”

“Do you seriously think I haven’t noticed the way you looked at him last week? You were practically drooling over him.” Marina circles the edge of her wineglass with her finger.

Carla scoffs. “So I’m not even allowed to look at other men anymore or?”

“That’s not what I said” Marina shakes her head, her features more serious now. “He likes you too.”

“And? Now what?” Carla feels her cheeks heat up yet again. She does her best to look unaffected, even though the look in her friend’s blue eyes tells her that it doesn’t work. Marina knows Carla just as good as Carla knows her.

“Nothing. Just thought you should know.”

--

“Here”, Nano reaches Samuel the plates he prepared. “For table three.”

Samuel nods, but before he can turn around to leave, his brother stops him.

“Hey, wait!” Nano grabs Samuel’s forearm, careful to not make him lose his balance. He studies his brothers face for a second and then breaks into a knowing grin. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

“What? Who?”

Nano shakes his head in amusement. His brother has always been a bad liar, and he’s even worse at it when under stress. “Marina. And that blonde chick.”

Samuel licks his lips, shifting to free himself out of Nano’s grip. “Her name is Carla.”

“Dude, chill,” Nano holds his hands up in defeat. “Its all cool okay? I won’t harass your little princess again. Marina already told her that I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you should tell her yourself”, Samuel says through clenched teeth. “And just so you know, she has a boyfriend. So spare me your dumb comments.”

Samuel is happy to flee out of the kitchen before Nano can object any further. It’s not that he isn’t used to Nano’s teasing or comments. In the end, he’s his brother, and that’s what siblings do all the time. But since he drove Carla home last week after she hastily left Christian’s bar, the teasing’s gotten unbearingly annoying.

He’d sensed it as soon as he entered Christian’s bar again last Friday, just after driving Carla home: the suspecting stares and dumb grins from either Omar, Nano or Marina.

“What?” he asks back then, a little too defensive maybe.

“Where’s Carla?” Marina questions back, her grin fading into a guilty look. “Is she okay?”

“She wanted to go home, so I drove her,” Samuel shrugs casually.

“You sure that’s all?” Nano looks at him cheekily, “Omar told us how you dramatically ran after her when she left, calling her name and all…”

Omar rolls his eyes and clicks his lips, obviously not too keen about getting busted.

“She seemed upset because you behaved like some asshole and I thought it’d be appropriate if at least one of us excused for it,” Samuel says in a harsh tone. “I mean, you don’t even know her and already stamp her as some careless rich bitch. You don’t have the right to do that and on top of it I don’t think you’re in the best position to judge people for who they are.”

Nano clenches his jaw and bites back an answer, grabbing one of his cigarettes and lighting it up despite he knows very well that smoking isn’t allowed inside the bar.

“Was she very angry?” Marina asks carefully, causing Samuel to tear his gaze off his brother’s tensed face.

“I don’t know,” Samuel’s tone is easier now. “But…no, I don’t think so. She behaved normal, I guess. I mean I don’t know her– she made a few jokes and we talked a bit and yeah...”

“She made jokes?” Marina asks in a mixture of amusement and slight disbelief. “Are you sure you brought the right girl home?”

“Why? Isn’t that normal or…?” Samuel scratches his neck with a small smile. Marina’s expression is making him nervous.

“No, no, it’s all good,” the girl answers. But the knowing look on her face gives off that there’s something more to that.

And Samuel should be right. Later that night, after Marina had reached a decent level of intoxication, she picked the topic up again. Asked him if he was single, if Carla was his type, if he found her pretty. And Samuel couldn’t help but answer all those questions with yes (or more with: yes, oh yes, very yes!!!), though he tried to be as decent as possible with his answers. And he was more than relieved when Marina finally let go of it and strolled away to join Nano who was having a chat with Christian at the bar counter. Omar just wiggled his brows at him then, holding his hands up in defense when Samuel shot him an annoyed look.

Since then, Samuel asks himself what exactly is going on with Marina. Why is she encouraging her boyfriend’s brother to hit on her best friend, who’s been in a relationship like forever? Does she just want to fuck with him? Does she want to produce chaos amongst her circle of friends for the mere joy of being entertained? It doesn’t make sense to Samuel, and that makes him even more insecure and unwilling to listen to his friends’ babbling. He just drove Carla home, what’s so special about that? They barely even talked, and it isn’t like they exchanged numbers or anything.

And now they’re here again, at the restaurant. And Samuel has no chance of avoiding the situation. He just hopes that both Marina and Nano don’t push it too far and make this even more uncomfortable; though the fact that Nano obviously knew they were coming tonight and didn’t even feel the need to tell him (or worse, hid it from him on purpose) doesn’t make the situation any better.

 --

Maybe it’s the bottle of wine. Or that she’s still pissed at Yeray for making her feel guilty about going out alone. Or maybe it’s because Carla doesn’t want to let go of the sight of Samuel yet, whom she’s been secretly (or not so secretly, judging by the looks on Marina’s face) watching for the last two hours. But she just can’t help it. With the way his dark locks bounce ever so slightly with every step that he takes, and how his white tee is stretching over his chest and shoulders while his exposed biceps twitch along with every of his movements, he surely is a sight to see.

In the end, it’s probably a combination of everything. The alcohol, the growing frustration about her involuntary long-term relationship, her friends’ suggesting stares and the outlook of spending a few more hours with the cute singer/van-owner/waiter that make her say yes. Yes, she’s going to join them in having a couple of drinks at Christian’s bar. Marina can’t hide her excitement about her friend’s – admittedly reluctant – answer and lets out a girly squeal. Carla’s obviously not the only one showing first effects of the wine bottle they shared.

And then they’re outside in front of the now dark restaurant, their breaths creating small white clouds as layers of warm and cold air mix up. Carla steps from one foot to another, her toes already starting to get cold, as they wait for Nano to finish his cigarette. Marina’s been clinging to his side since they got out five minutes ago and Carla already knows she’s lost her for the evening. It doesn’t bother her, though. It was foreseeable and the wine causes a pleasurable feeling of carelessness inside her. Her eyes fall onto Samuel, who stands next to her with his face tucked into the collar of his jacket, protecting his nose and mouth from the cold. Still, Carla can tell that he’s smiling at her with the way his warm eyes crinkle up, his expression turning somewhat excusing as a gust of wind hits them and Carla inevitably shivers.

A minute later Nano flicks his cigarette away, making it land on the ground instead of just throwing it into the ashtray next to them, and suddenly Marina doesn’t seem to be that much of an environmentalist anymore, completely ignoring his action. Her hypocrisy is the most annoying thing about her. Helping turtles hatch in Thailand or giving Carla pointed looks when she’s having beef instead of a vegetable patty, but then again letting her boyfriend trash the ground with cigarettes without blinking. Carla lets out the slightest sigh, deciding to not work herself up about it, instead focusing on dwelling in her wine-induced carelessness a little longer.

They begin to walk towards the small red thing Nano calls car and when they stand in front of the back doors, Marina on the left and Carla on the right, their gazes meet just before getting in and an old memory pushes its way into consciousness. It’s most likely the deep electronic bass blaring from the radio Nano just turned on that causes both Marina and Carla to flash back. They’ve been here before. Time stands still for a second, the girls staring at one another frozen in place, but then Nano honks and Marina switches out of it abruptly, opening her door to get in. Carla closes her eyes and inhales, finally moving her fingers, now burning from the cold, to grab the door handle.

Her heart hammers in her chest as the engine begins to move, and she shakily grabs the bottle of beer Samuel hands them from the passenger seat. She toasts with him and Marina and then quickly gulps down a large swig of the bitter liquid, desperate for some sort of relief. The parallels are overwhelming, and Carla is more than thankful when Marina takes her hand and squeezes gently, eyes full of quiet understanding.

--

Carla is the first one to get out as soon as they come to halt. Her legs still feel shaky as they walk towards the bar, and Nano showing up beside her doesn’t exactly cause her distress to fade.

“Everything alright?” he asks, making Marina and Samuel stop talking and turn their heads. Well, thanks for the attention.

“Mhm,” Carla hugs herself a bit tighter, forcing a smile onto her lips. “I just really need to pee.”

Nano chuckles at that and the other two quickly resume their conversation about some new music album, fighting over which song is the best.

“I’m sorry for what I said last week,” Nano adds in a quiet tone, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I might’ve overreacted.”

“You don’t need to excuse. It’s your opinion, I get it,” Carla says nonchalantly. She straightens up a little, letting her arms fall down to find the pockets of her jacket. “I can live with people not liking me. I have my stereotypes, too, you know.”

Nano shrugs, obviously not expecting that kind of reaction from her. If he thought that he could just excuse and act as if everything’s fine now, he was wrong. Carla lets herself fall back behind Marina and Samuel and Nano matches her pace, registering she isn’t done talking yet.

“Listen, I’m not the one to produce any drama, okay?” Carla’s voice isn’t more than a whisper now, but even then, the warning tone can’t be missed. “But if you have any serious intentions with Marina, just know that you’ll have to arrange yourself with being surrounded by people like me. She may always act like she turned her back to the snobby world full of dinner parties and faked friendliness, but in the end, she sips her champagne along with everyone else. So I’d recommend you to pull yourself together or you’ll find yourself in trouble faster than you can blink.”

When the serious look on Nano’s face makes room for a wide grin, Carla instantly knows he doesn’t get it.

“You really think the world belongs to you, don’t you?” He throws her a dismissive glare, lowering his voice. “You’re just rich, you’re not the mafia, okay? Just calm the fuck down.”

She jolts away when he pats her shoulder in a fake-calming way, her pale lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oh, come on,” he rolls his eyes, quickening his steps to catch up with Marina and Samuel again, turning around one last time. “You really need to chill, princess.”

--

Marina’s choice in men is frustrating. It’s probably the second most annoying thing about her, right after her tendency for being hypocritical. Sometimes Carla wonders if it’s normal to be so annoyed by your friend all the time, but then again thinks that Marina and she aren’t just friends. They knew each other all their lives, and there’s probably no other person in her age that Carla spent so much time with – all the boring family and business events they were dragged along to as children made them form a special bond. Sometimes Carla thinks Marina is the sister she never had – which offers a reasonable explanation for why Marina’s presence alone manages to annoy Carla at times. A thing Carla didn’t know until now was that in opposite to Marina’s presence, her absence can annoy her, too.

“Where are you going?” Her tone sounds almost panicked as Marina and Nano stand up from the table during their second round of drinks. The last hour has mostly consisted of Marina and Nano telling stories or making jokes in a half-drunken way while Carla laughed along in her usual reserved manner, stealing glances to the boy on her right every now and then. Samuel was laughing along, too, though he was more preoccupied with picking at the label of his beer bottle, scattering small crumbs of the paper-like material over the tabletop in front of him. The thought of being left alone with him makes her inevitably nervous. He doesn’t seem all too talkative right now, and the thought of sitting there in awkward silence with him nervously fiddling around with his bottle isn’t too inviting.

“Outside,” Marina simply answers. Nano holds up his pack of cigarettes quickly, adding more sense to his girlfriend’s statement.

“Since when do you smoke?” Carla tries to get the conversation going, although she knows its hopeless. When Nano goes, Marina follows. Not that she hasn’t seen Marina behave like this before.

“I smoke when I’m drunk,” the girl shrugs, already a few steps away. Then she turns around and quickly follows Nano out the backdoor. Great.

Carla’s eyes land on Samuel again. After he watched his brother and Marina leave, he resumed to fiddle around with the small white crumbs in front of him, apparently not daring to look up. “You don’t smoke?” she asks, her tone a bit too harsh maybe.

He looks up at her with an expression that can’t be described as something other than slight shock, and it’s the first time Carla notices just how long his eyelashes are, building the prettiest of frames for the warm mixture of hazel and chocolate within his eyes. He breaks the eye contact after a couple of seconds and Carla feels weirdly disappointed at that, settling to watch his pink mouth instead as he begins to talk.

“I did it a few times at parties when I was younger, but it’s not really my thing. Besides it’s not the best idea as a singer.”

Right. Carla had nearly forgotten about that.

“And you?” His eyes flicker back to her, this time more confident.

She shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I tried it once and nearly suffocated, so no.”

Samuel pulls up the right corner of his mouth ever so slightly, and Carla can’t help but feel encouraged to go on talking. She’s only doing this for preventing awkward silence, of course. Luckily, he seems to have the same plan, answering her questions and asking her things back in a friendly manner, causing Carla to relax as his shyness slowly vanishes.

While conversating, she learns some things about him: he fiddles around when he’s bored or nervous, prefers beer over wine (ugh, that’s something to argue about), taught himself to play guitar at thirteen, chooses to watch a good movie over a game of football, lives on his own in a one-room apartment, never ate Sushi before, dreams of going on a road trip with his van someday, has trouble sleeping when it’s full moon, thought about getting a tattoo but wasn’t brave enough (yet), began his job as a waiter when he was sixteen, likes to sing in the shower, started playing in a band three years ago, is called Samu by his friends (okay, Christian revealed that one as he asked what they want to drink next).

And of course, Samuel learns things about Carla, too: she observes people when she’s bored or nervous, prefers wine over beer, was forced to take piano lessons until she was fourteen, chooses to watch a good movie over a game of football, lives with her boyfriend in a mansion, eats Sushi every Sunday, dreams of running far away someday (all the time), has trouble sleeping, had piercings when she was younger, began to work at her parents’ company after finishing her master’s degree in economics at twenty-three, likes to read while taking a bath, goes for a run five days a week, was called marquesita back in school.

They talk and laugh and then Carla can’t believe her eyes when she quickly checks her phone after washing her hands in the toilet room and realizes it’s been one and a half hours since Marina and Nano left. She puts her phone away and looks at her reflection, eyes glassy with alcohol and laughter, cheeks flushed in that natural rosy shade not the most expensive blush in the world could create. Just when she reapplies some of her light pink lipstick, the door opens with a swing, only to reveal a familiar head of red locks.

“Marina,” Carla turns around, “where the hell were you? It’s been one and a half hours.”

The girl shrugs with a grin far too wide, and when Carla registers the red in her eyes, she already knows the answer. So much about having a cigarette.

“But you had good company while we were away, hadn’t you?” Marina ignores her former question, her grin getting impossibly wider as she spots the lipstick in Carla’s hand. “Freshening up your make up, duh?”

“I like to look decent when I’m out in public,” Carla’s shoulders stiffen. “You should try it, too.”

Marina lets out a short burst of laughter but still begins to fiddle around in her purse. “Can you…” she slurs, handing Carla her bright red lip stick.

The blonde can’t help but smile. “Come here.”

Marina patiently holds up her face for Carla to apply the lipstick, heavy eyelids falling close while she does so.

“You can leave your eyes open,” Carla giggles while she carefully paints Marina’s pale lips with the red color again. But Marina waits until she’s finished before opening her eyes again, the previous amused sparkle gone now.

“Samuel is a nice guy,” her voice is stronger now, words not as slurry as before, “he’s just a bit shy at first.”

“He is nice, yes,” Carla says while fumbling with the zipper of her purse that’s stuck in the middle.

“And he’s single.”

The blonde inhales sharply, stopping her movements and placing the purse on the sink counter with a thud. “Marina, I know you don’t like Yeray, but he’s my boyfriend, and you introducing me to other guys won’t change that, not matter how nice or cute they are.”

Marina’s brows furrow. “He’s not your boyfriend.”

The blonde hastily grabs her purse then, ready to flee out of the uncomfortable situation. But despite being high, Marina’s still faster, blocking the door. Carla lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Get out of my way.”

“He’s an asshole. He controls you and makes you feel like shit as soon as you want to do something for yourself. He’s not good for you, Carla. You always tell me that I’m letting guys control my life and that I’m clingy and needy, and you know what? Maybe you’re right about that. Maybe its part of my personality, or its just because I’m easily bored or quickly change my opinions and interests, but unlike you, at least I don’t deny it. You’re not different with Yeray, but act so grown up and independent all the time – and I’m fucking tired of it.”

Marina is surprised of her sudden outburst, and so is Carla. They stare at each other wide eyed for what feels like an eternity, each second of silence worsening the tension between them.

“Why don’t you leave me alone when you’re tired of me?” Carla finally speaks, failing to keep the intimidating tone from before as her voice is quiet and, surprisingly, on the verge of breaking.

And suddenly they’re seventeen again, standing on Marina’s doorstep face-to-face, the redheads’ expression more than startled as she sees Carla’s shaking figure in front of her house.

“Carla? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

The blonde doesn’t answer, just stares at her, and Marina turns around to look at the empty hallway behind her before opening the door wider, letting Carla in. “My parents aren’t home, only Guzmán is here,” she adds quietly, and Carla nods, sneaking up to Marina’s room without saying anything.

It’s not that Marina’s parents have a problem with Carla, it’s more that Carla’s parents have a problem with Marina. They can’t know she’s here, not after everything that has happened, and the girls both know it. Carla’s parents wouldn’t be amused about finding out that she’s meeting up with the girl they accuse of being a bad influence and whom they don’t want anywhere near their daughter anymore. It’s not completely unreasonable, though. Marina and Carla had been a troublesome duo for the past months, the former encouraging her friend – freshly single after breaking up with Polo – to partake in all kinds of reckless teen activities. And suddenly the well-behaved young marchioness stays out until the early morning, rebels against rules she’s always accepted and is not afraid of expressing provoking statements, especially when her parents’ friends or business partners are around. All in all, she leaves a bad impression. But neither her father nor her mother seem to care much, way too invested into their business, and so they simply start to ignore her behavior when they realize that their usual scolds and threats aren’t intimidating enough anymore. Carla doesn’t know if she feels free or neglected by their lack of attention. Probably both, she drunkenly decides for herself one night, leaving a bittersweet feeling in her chest.

And then it all goes to shit. Maybe they’d gotten a little too reckless when they decide to set foot into the matte black Maserati, maybe they should’ve sensed the disaster coming. But they were young and drunk on two bottles of wine Carla had stolen from her parents’ basement, and the guys in the front seats were hot and cool and three years older than them, talking about how they know someone throwing an exclusive party in the outskirts of Madrid – it’s something most young naïve girls their age would’ve done. Carla remembers the bad feeling creeping up on her when she realizes they’re going way too fast about five minutes into their ride, looking over at Marina who leans forward between the front seats to turn up the speakers with a bright smile.

Next thing she knows is waking up in a hospital bed, the stern look on her parents’ faces hurting way more than her whiplash injury, her broken arm and the countless scratches and bruises all over her body. It hurts because they don’t look particularly worried – they just look disappointed and angry. They ask her how she could’ve been so dumb and get into a car with a stranger – he’s a friend – who was on cocaine – I didn’t know that – and crashed his father’s Maserati into the road ditch while going 110 km/h in a 70 km/h zone – I told him to slow down but he didn’t listen!

But the real disaster wasn’t the accident – none of them was seriously hurt, what seems almost a miracle – the real disaster was what followed. Namely her parents blaming Carla for forcing them to fly to Madrid when they were in the middle of an important business meeting in France, ultimately resulting in their new potential investor to withdraw his offer. She remembers her father’s piercing gaze as he enters the hospital room after having a phone call on the hallway, shaking his head at her mother and telling her there was no chance of convincing the French businessman to negotiate with them again. And then his eyes land on Carla, laying there pale and tired and scared, the ruff around her neck making her unable to look away, as he tells her that this is all your fault and that he hopes she can find a way to make up the mess she’s caused. Her head feels as if it’s about to burst when they finally leave again, the thick lump forming in her throat an additional torture to her physical pain.

Carla finds a way to make up the mess she’s caused. It’s not too hard for her to connect with that young, selfmade-rich dude that’s suddenly wandering through the halls of her school. Actually it’s him who makes the first step. Tells her how much it helped him when she virtually defended him on Instagram where he was cyberbullied because of his overweight.

Now, there’s not a trace of fat left on his body; he’s tall and muscular and has a friendly smile – a nice guy, overall. Carla decides it could be worse, at least he’s her age and good-looking (blame her for being superficial). She chooses to ignore everything that annoys her about him, like that he’s always trying too hard and has a shitty sense of humor (or not her sense of humor, at least) and that he cares way too much about what other people think of him. But the consequences of all that come soon crushing down on her, and she goes to find the only person that’s willing to listen to her problems:

“Marina,” her words are barely audible as she draws her knees to her chest on her friend’s bed. “I need to talk to someone or else I’ll go mad.”

“Is this about this new guy? Yeray?” Though she and Carla hadn’t spoken much in the past weeks, their friendship seemingly wrecked along with that black Maserati, Marina had still noticed that Carla hung out with him in school lately.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Carla says, tears brimming in her eyes.

Marina scoots closer to her, placing her hand on Carla’s knee in a gentle manner. “But that’s good, isn’t it? He seems nice.”

The blonde stares at Marina’s hand for a few seconds before she starts to sob quietly. “No it isn’t,” she forces out, voice trembling and all. “I don’t want him to be my boyfriend.”

“Well, then break up with him.”

“I can’t.”

Marina hands Carla a cup of her favorite tea, careful to not spill anything onto her bed. The blonde takes it with the smallest of smiles, eyes still red and puffy from her previous crying session.

“You need to stop this before it gets worse, Carla,” Marina tries again. Her voice is so soft and full of empathy Carla wants to hit herself with the mug. She doesn’t deserve a friend like her. Listening and being there even though she completely ignored her for the past weeks.

“He’s not your boyfriend, he’s more like…your business partner. And you should tell him that, you should tell him the truth. He deserves it, and you do, too.”

But Carla can’t. She’s too frightened of what will happen if she tells him the truth, that she’s only with him so he can invest in her parents’ winery and save them from bankruptcy. That she’ll be with him only until her family’s financial situation is stable again and she doesn’t have to blame herself for destroying the traditional company her great-grandparents have built with painstaking work. As soon as it’s possible she’ll break up with him by offering one of the classic reasons – it’s not you, it’s me – and hopefully they’ll never meet again.

Well, that had been her plan. But suddenly the five years in which he could retract the contract had gone by, and Carla was practically free – but then again, she was not. Because Yeray somehow managed to get invested into her family’s business so much that he plays an important role by now, too important to be just dropped from one day to another. And on top of that, her parents have practically adopted him throughout the years, always protecting him and telling him how happy they are that he’s part of their family now. Carla wants to throw up every time they say something like that, and she’s not sure if its because of jealousy or  because that’ll be the next problem she’ll have to deal with: Yeray actually becoming a part of their family. She’s 25 now and if she’s lucky she has a few years left, but sooner or later he’ll kneel in front of her with that insecure smile of his and hold up a ring in between shaky fingers and then – oh god.

“I’m not tired of you,” Marina’s words make Carla switch back into reality. Christian’s bar, the toilet room, Samuel. “I’m tired of you acting like you’re living the perfect life when in reality you’re not.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carla tries again, too stubborn to give in.

Marina scoffs. “What, do you want to wait until he proposes to you? Marry him? Have children with him? For how long do you want to keep this up? Its been eight fucking years. Eight! You can’t live in a unhappy fake relationship for eight years and not do anything about it!”

“I really don’t get what your fucking problem is,” Carla’s tone is angry now. “I don’t tell you who to be with, either. And if I did, I’d surely advise you to stay away from Nano. Or all the other shady guys you’ve been with throughout the years.”

“Fuck you, Carla,” Marina shakes her head in disappointment and moves away from the door. “I was just trying to help you, but okay. At least my boyfriend loves me, and I love him, too.”

Love. Carla thinks as she stomps out of the bar, enraged. She winks at a nearing cab and hops in as fast as possible. That concept’s absolute bullshit.

Chapter Text

Carla hates Tuesdays. She wakes up with a groan every Tuesday morning, well aware of what’s awaiting her in the evening. Today isn’t any different. She doesn’t even know when it started, the stupid Tuesday tradition of having dinner with her parents. It just kind of happened, and by now, both Yeray and her parents insist on eating together once a week and play happy family. Carla usually doesn’t drink under the week, but judging by her mood this morning she might make an exception tonight.

She’ll definitely make an exception tonight, Carla thinks when she comes home from her last meeting.  On top of having a tough day at work, her nerves seem to lay blank lately for inexplicable reasons. Okay, that may not be the whole truth. It’s mostly the last conversation/fight she had with Marina that won’t stop infiltrating her thoughts. It makes her feel uncomfortable and guilty at the same time; the hard outlash on her friend really hadn’t been necessary, but then again she left her no other choice. ‘Cause look, she knows that Marina only wants the best for her, but her friend is far too stubborn to fully grasp the dilemma Carla’s in. She can’t just break up with Yeray and leave everything behind, there’s so much depending on that: her job, her home, her family. She’ll lose everything at once and for what? A short-lasting fling with some random guy she finds cute? God, she’s not sixteen anymore; though sometimes she wishes she were, wishes that she could to go back in time and be stuck in that blur of sneaking out to parties, drinking from red cups and drunk kissing forever. She surely wasn’t happy back then, to be fair, but at least she felt free and alive, not caged and numb and stressed like she does now.

“I said FIVE more minutes,” she hisses while frantically going through her drawer. “Which part of that is so hard to understand?”

Instead of leaving like she’d want him to, Yeray moves from where he stood in the door and enters Carla’s dressing room. “What are you searching for, anyways? You look great, darling.”

His eyes scan her body. She’s wrapped into a tight black dress and her hair is tucked into a neat bun. Her make up is simple yet elegant, the fine winged lines over her eyes and the hint of rosy blush on her cheeks highlight her delicate features in all the right ways. She’s perfect.

“My earrings,” she says while rushing to another drawer, making Yeray stumble as he tries to get out of her way.

“We’re only visiting your parents,” he tries again. “You don’t need earrings for that.”

“And since when do you decide what I need and what not?” she shoots back. Well, actually he does all the time, the quiet voice in her head admits. Vacations, clothes, food – somehow it’s always him who decides those things. He even interferes in business decisions she’s supposed to make, giving her advice she never asked for or trying to explain things she knows hundred times better than him. She’ll never forgive him that one time she told him about a new marketing strategy she’d developed and that he later brought up in a conversation with her parents and some business partners – claiming it as his. She immediately dragged him to the nearest room then, furiously telling him that it was her idea and she hadn’t even thought it through enough for it to be told to anyone. Of course, he talked himself out of it: “But I thought we were a team, baby? You and me, together. I invest so much money into your company every month, you know. Don’t you think that makes me have an appropriate say in important decisions?” She really had to bite her tongue to not answer with “I think that you’re a fucking asshole” back then. Instead, she chose to not say anything at all anymore for the whole evening. Seventeen-year-old Marina hadn’t been right when she said that Carla and Yeray were more like business partners after her friend’s tear-filled confession. They’re not business partners, they’re business competitors.  

--

“What do you think?” Samuel’s gaze nervously alternates between the faces of Nano and Omar and the sheet of paper they’re looking at.

“I think it could work,” Omar rubs his chin with an approving nod. “We should try it out.”

Nano doesn’t object, just nods and puts the sheet on the music stand that’s attached to the drums, sitting down behind them. Samuel wordlessly hands Omar a copy of the sheet and then picks up his guitar and focuses on the second copy he made for himself, counting down in his head before starting to move his hands over the strings.

They’re into what feels like the fiftieth time of trying to play the new song when there’s a knock on the garage door – yes, they set up their instruments in a garage, quite a cliché, huh?

Before any of them can say something, the door swings open and reveals two figures. It’s nothing new that Christian visits to hang out with them after their band rehearsals – his bar’s closed on Tuesdays – the sight of Marina, however, is something new; though not all too surprising.  It’s probably for the best if they end their rehearsal for the day, anyway. As fun as it is to try new songs, it’s very exhausting, too.

“Okay, I’m gonna cheer you up,” Marina moves from where she’d been laying in Nano’s arm on the old couch they set up next to a bunch of camping stools and sits up straight. “As you all know my birthday’s on Saturday, and guess who’s invited to the party now?”

The reactions to her invitation are rather reserved; mostly because Samuel, Omar and Christian watch how Nano reacts and he looks…quite skeptical.

“Didn’t you say you won’t let your parents throw that party for you?”

Marina exhales deeply. “Yes but…I changed my mind. They were so excited about it and the last birthday we really celebrated was my 18^th, since then I always celebrated in our apartment with my roommates…besides they’ve supported me so much throughout the last years, and if throwing a party for me makes them happy, I’ll let them.”

One thing she doesn’t tell them is that it’s merely their financial support she’s so thankful for, and which she doesn’t intend to lose during what seems to be her last year of university (finally). So she figured she should show a bit of compliance now and then, including high-class birthday parties with annoying guests like her parents’ friends or business partners for example. Because in her world, birthday parties don’t simply exist for the sake of celebrating one’s birthday. More so, they’re important events when it comes to (re-)connecting and networking with people as her parents like to call it. Yeah, whatever. As long she’s in reach of a glass of champagne and has her friends’ company for the night, she might endure it without causing any trouble (as her parents like to call it).

“I’m only coming if your hot friend is there, too,” Christian says with a grin, leaning forward in his camping stool to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on top of the small couch table between them.

Marina rolls her eyes. “That’s not funny, guys. I need some friends there, otherwise I won’t survive it.”

“I have time,” Samuel shrugs abruptly. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s the first to volunteer when not even Nano has confirmed his attendance – going to his brother’s girlfriend’s birthday party without his brother would be quite weird, wouldn’t it?

The smile Nano shoots him is kind of unsettling.

“What? I’m only trying to be nice,” Samuel says in defense and takes a sip of his coke.

Christian stares at him for a second, then raises his brows at Marina with a cocky grin. “So will she be there or not?”

--

“The Osuna’s invited us to celebrate Marina’s birthday on Saturday.”

Carla stops the movement of cutting her steak for a millisecond as she processes her father’s statement. “Really?” she tries her best to sound unimpressed, not even looking up. “And are you going?”

“Events like these are always a great chance to get in touch with people,” Teodoro says matter-of-factly. “You should know that by now.”

Carla makes a tiny nod before lifting her fork, ready to enjoy the first bite of the soft, pink meat.

“Didn’t she invite you, too? I mean you hung out quite a lot lately,” Yeray breaks the silence. Her mouth goes dry. Can’t he shut up for at least one single time?

Teodoro eyes her with a critical gaze. “Is that so?”

 “Do you have a problem with it?” Carla looks up and meets his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye she registers how her mother shifts in her seat. “I’m old enough to decide who I hang out with, I don’t need your permission.”

Then she turns to Yeray. “And to answer your questions: yes, she invited me too.”

“And why didn’t you tell me about it?” He cracks a nervous smile.

“Because I’m not going.”

--

“Wow,” Samuel mutters as they enter the house, or more the mansion, of Marina’s parents. It’s big and modern and decorated in the most fancy way, women in posh dresses and men in tailored suits surrounding them as they make their way to the door.

Nano doesn’t say anything, mentally preparing himself for the hard task of making a good impression. He kind of hates that Marina’s blonde arrogant friend had been right all along, swallowing his pride is an understatement for what he feels right now. But he does this for Marina, not for himself. And that again makes this torture worthwhile, he realizes when she approaches them with big steps, a cheerful and champagne-induced smile on her face.

They’re eyed like a rare species of animals. Or aliens. Or a rare species of aliens that look like animals. Samuel wonders if that’s what these people learn in their high-class private schools: staring at other people in the most humiliating way possible. The guy that’s looking at them like a hawk from the opposite corner of the big living room surely would’ve gotten an A+ in the subject of humiliating and intimidating stares. Samuel catches a hint of aggressiveness radiating off him; the puffed-up posture emphasizing his height even more, blonde hair neatly brought into shape with too much hairspray. The girl clinging to his side kind of fits him, wearing an expansive, striking dress matched with a pair of heels that make her 10 cm taller at least. She twists her wavy brown hair with a pejorative glance before breaking into obnoxious laughter at something the guy whispers into her ear.

Suddenly Samuel understands what Nano’s talking about all the time when ranting about the rich. He isn’t sure if the uncomfortable feeling that’s settled in his chest will go away during the evening, and the fact that he’s already lost his brother to the redhead and his only companion for the night will be Christian from now on doesn’t make this any better. Because one thing they don’t need is any more attention; which is kind of hard when your friend is the human form of a red exclamation mark. He likes Christian, he really does, but right now he wishes that he could swap him for Omar instead. But the latter unfortunately has to work while Christian spontaneously closed the bar for the night (which isn’t the most intelligent thing to do on a Saturday; generally, Samuel always asks himself how Christian even managed to keep this thing running for the last years), so here they are.

Christian excitedly looks around with his second glass of champagne in hand, stopping one of the waiters to grab himself an appetizer.

“Not bad,” he chews on something that looks like a high-class cracker with caviar. “Detected any hot chicks so far?”

Samuel shoots him a warning glance before cracking into a small smile and taking a sip of his champagne. He’s unbelievable. Its not like Marina hasn’t warned Christian to be subtle – especially when it comes to flirting – but listening to someone had never been his strength. “You can flirt, but please don’t say anything plump or sexist, this isn’t your bar, okay?” Marina told him the second they arrived. “If you meet Carla and call her ‘princess’ in presence of her boyfriend her father’s going to kill you, I mean it.”

Christian didn’t seem too happy about Marina’s restriction, muttering something about he doesn’t understand why “everything about that chick always has to be so intense” and they should all “chill a bit more". Samuel registered the approving nod Nano gave Christian for his statement at that, though he didn't really know what they meant. She hasn’t been intense when they talked last Friday. No, more so, she’s been nice, smart, friendly, sweet, funny…Samuel stops himself from making the list any longer. He shouldn’t think about her, not like this. Because next to being nice, smart, friendly, sweet and funny she’s something else, and that is taken.

They wander around the big living room a bit aimlessly, trying to not bump into anyone and avoiding eye contact as good as possible. Samuel doesn’t know if Christian’s aware of how unwanted they are or if he registers the threatening stares of the blonde guy – he knows that playing it cool is a form of dealing with nervousness for his outgoing friend. Sometimes he wishes that he could cut a slice off of Christian’s coolness, but then again, he isn’t too keen about dealing with all the uncomfortable situations his friend’s behavior has brought him into over the years. Christian is not the typical troublemaker like his brother, he just ends up maneuvering himself into the most unfavorable situations because of his big mouth and inability to shut up when everyone else already knows its better to stay silent.

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” the brown-haired boy announces, nodding towards the garden. They haven’t been outside yet, but through the big glass windows one can detect that the outside area is just as fancy as the living room, decorated with fairy lights and torches. Though its February, the temperatures are rather mild, causing many people to linger around outside, standing there in groups and discussing rich people problems.

Before Samuel can nod at his friend, Christian’s already on his way outside. He decides to wander around a bit more, hoping he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as he feels, until he finds himself in front of a big frame set up in one of the corners of the room with more than a dozen pictures inside. Marina on her first day of school, Marina at the beach, Marina in front of Disneyland, Marina blowing out candles on a birthday cake, Marina eating Spaghetti with her hand as a toddler, Marina wearing her mother’s high heels and posing for the camera…

“Had I known how much of a humiliation tonight’s gonna be I would’ve stayed home,” the red-haired girl is suddenly by his side, staring at the frame with a glass of champagne in hand.

Samuel chuckles, her statement kind of resembles his prior thoughts. “I think they’re cute,” he gestures at the pictures, then points at the one of her eating Spaghetti. “Especially this one.”

“You’re an idiot,” Marina playfully nudges his shoulder. “I think my parents are going through some sort of midlife-crisis, realizing how old me and my brother are getting. I mean I’m twenty-six now…”

“You have a brother?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Marina turns around, nodding at the blonde guy with the deadly stares. “His name’s Guzmán. Next to him is his girlfriend, Lucrecia. They’re together since high school, though their relationship is anything but stable. They can’t live with or without each other.”

Samuel doesn’t say anything, just nods. Suddenly, he sees the resemblance on one of the photos. “Is that him?” he points at a picture of Marina and Guzmán, roughly six or seven years old, sitting next to each other in a bed with milk and cookies in hand.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Marina’s smile warms up as she remembers the old memory. “You also recognize who that is?” she then asks, her fingertip on the third child in the picture, a small blonde girl sitting next to Marina, smiling brightly with her own glass of milk in hand.

“Carla?” Samuel asks, lips immediately curling into a smile. His eyes scan the frame, and he detects her in more and more pictures: sometimes in the background, sometimes standing or sitting next to Marina, always looking at the camera with a fond, polite smile.

“She was with us all the time,” Marina explains. “Her parents weren’t around often, and my mum always invited her over so she wasn’t at home alone all the time. She joined us on whatever we were doing. I remember how excited she got when we went to Disneyland that one time, she literally wouldn’t shut up about it for two months or so. Her parents never did things like these with her, you know?”

Marina stares at the pictures for a moment, then regrets her loose tongue. “God, don’t tell her I’ve said that, okay? She’d probably kill me if she knew.”

Samuel nods and tries to smile despite how he felt his heart sink at Marina's words. He can’t help but feel sorry for Carla.

“She didn’t come tonight,” he states as objectively as possible. It’s contrary to what Marina had told them last Tuesday, namely that she’s “hundred percent sure Carla’s gonna come”, even if they “haven’t talked since their last fight”, because “that’s just how it goes between us”.

“She didn’t come yet,” Marina looks around, scanning the people scattered around the living room. “But I’m sure she will, she won’t miss opportunity to have a few glasses of this delicacy,” she holds up her champagne glass with an amused look.

And there’s another thing that makes Marina so sure about Carla’s attendance: that her parents and Yeray will convince – or more accurately force – her to come. Her parents may not be the biggest fans of their daughters’ friendship with Marina, but on the other hand they never miss an opportunity of networking – and business has always been more important to them than their daughter.

--

Her dress is silver and tight and kind of itches when she’s moving, and Yeray telling her that she “looks so beautiful in it” doesn’t help with the fact she’d be happier with sitting on the couch in sweatpants right now. But here she is, at the party she refused to attend until her boyfriend (and her parents) got so annoying about it she finally gave in.

“There’s Mr. Pérez,” Yeray nods towards a spot in the garden where some men are standing near a heating lamp. “He’s an eminent authority in the IT business, your father said he could introduce me to him.”

Carla hums in disinterest before Yeray drags her towards the group of men, receiving last instructions from her father who’s right next to him. It’s frustrating how its apparently Yeray who’s her parents’ big hope when it comes to business now. All the years they spent teaching Carla about how she can lead the family business suddenly thrown away for him, who isn’t smarter or better educated than her, just more talkative and faster in making contacts, and – which is the most unfair advantage – a guy. Carla’s role in all that has minimized from the future heiress of her parents’ winery to something she can’t describe with more flattering words than the classic trophy wife.

“That’s my girlfriend, Ms. Carla Rosón,” Yeray introduces her to the circle of men, and especially to Mr. Pérez. She gives them her most polite smile, though deep inside smiling’s the last thing on her mind when confronted with the lascivious stares of a bunch of old businessmen.

“A pretty, young woman you got there,” one of them nods approvingly before looking at Yeray. “What would I give to be young once again…”

Carla feels Yeray’s sweaty grip on her hand tightening, but she knows that’ll be it. He won’t speak up to them about how inappropriate this is, he never does. And unfortunately, she knows that standing up for herself wouldn’t change anything besides worsening their chances of any future business cooperation with the men opposite them. Still, it takes all she got to remain silent when they don’t take their eyes off her, hungrily roaming every curve of her body – now she’d really give anything to swap her tight, slim fit dress for a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie.

“You should take good care of her,” Mr. Pérez continues the torture. “It would be a shame to lose a beautiful woman like her.”

Carla’s face is hard as stone as she looks up at Yeray, who just uncomfortably nods and mutters a “yeah, I will”. Then her eyes flicker to her father right next to him, who eyes the insides of his champagne glass with way too much interest, swiveling it around in his hand as if he doesn’t hear anything they say. And her mother isn’t in her reach either, talking to another woman a few meters away; Carla noticed how she’d turned around the second things got uncomfortable. Great.

She turns her head to the group again when another one of the men speaks up, adding that Yeray “should lock her down before she’s got the chance to get away,” which makes the circle break into a disgusting fit of laughter.

That’s it, she internally decides. She’s not going to expose herself a second longer to their chicanery, not with her poor excuse of a boyfriend accepting it without batting an eye. Though the proper reaction would be to dump him right then and there and call out the men for sexual harassment, she knows that making a scene would only end up in them accusing her of being hysteric and prude; and so she decides to excuse herself with a forced smile, telling them that she’s going to search for the birthday girl.

--

“Woah, prince– Carla, everything okay?” Christian stumbles as Carla bumps into him on her way inside.

“Christian?” she questions after hastily turning around in the doorway. Her eyes flicker to his shirt, now stained with champagne. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he looks down at himself, then offers her one of the two glasses he’s holding (blame him for being greedy). “Want one?”

Well, yeah. Maybe this’ll calm her down. She takes a step to where Christian’s standing outside near the house wall, grabs the glass and takes a large sip. “Thanks,” she says, closing her eyes as the bubbly liquid warms up her insides.

“Is everything okay?” he glances at her carefully.

“I don’t know,” Carla shrugs with a tight smile. “If you consider it normal that your family’s potential business partners basically tell you they’d fuck you, then yeah, everything’s great.”

“What a bunch of assholes,” Christian looks into his glass and furrows his brows, then faces her again with that familiar cheeky expression of his. “So, I’m not even allowed to call you princess while they can tell you they wanna fuck you?”

“Who said that?”

“Marina. She forbade me to call you princess when your boyfriend’s around,” Christian lights up another cigarette.

Carla rolls her eyes ever so slightly. “Who allowed you to call me princess in the first place?”

What follows is probably the thing Carla has expected the least: Christian is left for words. He stares down at his cigarette, avoiding any eye contact, and therefore not seeing the superior smile forming on her lips. “See?”

She gulps down the remains of champagne in her glass, licks a drop of the precious liquid off her lips and hands him the empty glass. “Thanks for the drink,” she pats his shoulder and then turns around to resume her way inside.

--

The first familiar people Carla detects inside are her ex-boyfriend Polo, Guzmán and Lu. She gives them a small wave, deciding that she isn’t drunk enough to face them yet. She lost track of everyone of her old high school friends except Marina, and if she’s honest, that’s only because the girl seemingly refuses to give up on their friendship. She wasn’t that lucky with Lu, though, her second best friend in high school. She’s had enough of Carla shortly before they graduated, setting her an ultimatum: either Carla stops her secretive behavior and finally tells her what’s going on, or they’re not going to be friends any longer. There was nothing more Carla wanted than to tell her the truth, really, but she just couldn’t. Too big was her fear that Lu could bust her and tell Yeray the true reason for their relationship, that it is all because of money. She knew Lu, and it was too risky. For that, tense small talk at parties is the only form of communication they have these days. 

Before any trace of sadness can creep up inside her, Carla grabs another glass of champagne and then continues her search for Marina. She’s going to tell her that she’s sorry for what she said about Nano and then gratulate her properly, not just with a text message like she did in the morning. She pushes through people until she reaches the other side of the room, but the red head’s nowhere to be found. A sigh leaves her lips as she lets herself fall onto the couch and grabs one of the crackers in front of her.

“You were cute as a child,” a voice suddenly says. Carla looks up at the person standing next to the couch in surprise, still chewing on her cracker. She raises her brows when she recognizes the familiar face. “Samuel? You’re here?”

He shrugs slightly, then nods with a smile. As if automatically, Carla makes room for him on the couch, and he wastes no time in sitting down. He’s already switched the champagne for something stronger, judging by the transparent liquid swapping inside of his glass it’s probably Gin Tonic.

“How do you even know how I looked like as a child?” Carla can’t hide the grin in her face. The champagne’s showing its first effects.

Samuel gestures towards another corner of the room. “There’s a frame with pictures of Marina, and you’re in a few of them, too.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I want to see them,” she palms her face with her hand, then peaks at Samuel through her fingers with a smile.

“As I said, they’re cute,” he shrugs with a grin. “But you’re still cute, of course. Not only as a child.”

Carla doesn’t say anything, just raises her brows at him, making Samuel shift under her gaze. “I just wanted to say that your level of cuteness hasn’t decreased over the years,” he makes an awkward gesture. “Because some people are only cute as children, and some are pretty ugly as children but then are cute as adults – they become cute when they grow up, you know? But you’re cute both ways, as a child and as an adul–“

“I get it, Samuel,” she interrupts him. But she’s only doing him a favor, really. “I was cute as a child and now I’m still cute as an adult.”

Samuel exhales, somewhat relieved. “Yeah.”

She can’t help but chuckle at his expression, looking like he’s trying to sort his thoughts with maximum concentration.

“Samuel?” her stern voice makes him look up in shock, he’s obviously not detecting the amusement in her voice. “Is it possible that you’re drunk?”

“What? No! I’m not drunk,” he says way too abruptly. But it just takes him one look from Carla to burst into laughter. He presses his eyes with his index finger and thumb after a few seconds of drunk giggling and then looks up at Carla. She can’t help but reveal a teethy smile at his sight, feeling her heart jump when he stares at her a bit too long, his eyes filled with tears of joy that make the chocolate brown color sparkle in the most beautiful way. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.”

--

Okay, imagine this: you’ve attended a party to celebrate your friend’s birthday, but said friend is nowhere to be seen. Your parents and boyfriend are talking to a bunch of old white sexist men, and the only other people your age are your former high school friends (including your ex), some guy that you only know because you were at his bar two times, and a drunk, dorky guy who apparently just tried to hit on you in the most awkward way possible. Now, what do you do?

“Two Tequilas please!”

Right. That’s what you do.

“Oh wait!” Carla quickly lifts her hand at the bartender Marina’s parents had booked, then points at Samuel. “And a water for him, he needs to sober up!”

Samuel furrows his brows in drunk concentration. “But how can I sober up when I drink Tequila and water at the same time?”

“It’s called balance,” Carla shrugs. She'd caught up with his drunk state pretty quickly by consuming another two glasses of champagne, and any trace of logic’s gone out the window around ten minutes ago.

Samuel just nods in agreement; how’s he supposed to say no to her when she looks at him like that? Her full pink mouth slightly wet from her previous drink, her big green eyes crinkling with a bright smile on her lips and her smooth golden hair falling over her shoulders, contrasting the shining silver of her dress. Fuck, she’s hypnotizing.

They slam their shot glasses onto the counter that’s set up in the living room in sync, and Carla laughs at the face Samuel makes as he swallows the sharp alcohol. Apparently, he’s not half as good as her when it comes to keeping a straight face while drinking.

Its about half an hour later when Samuel suddenly registers that he really needs to pee. “I’ll be right back, okay? Stay here, don’t move,” he points at the ground. They’re still standing at the counter, though they paused drinking in favor of drunk chatting. Carla doesn’t even know what exactly they’d talked about, all she knows is that her abs are already sore from laughter.

“Like this?” she asks with a grin, stiffening up to stand perfectly still. Samuel gives her a thumbs up and then makes his way towards the hallway.

It feels like an eternity, but when Carla looks at her phone, she sees its been only five minutes since he’d gone. She impatiently clicks her nails onto the counter and looks around. Marina’s still nowhere to be seen; and generally, many people seem to have switched the living room for the garden, making use of the small dancefloor that’s installed next to the pool.

After ten minutes of waiting she has enough, walking towards the hallway with determined steps.“You’re still waiting?” she approaches Samuel, who stands in line behind six other people whom she luckily doesn’t know (well, she has seen a few faces before, but she doesn’t really know them). Meeting her boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or one of her parents is the last thing she wants right now.

“Someone blocks the toilet,” Samuel shrugs a little helpless. Before he can process what’s happening, Carla’s dragging him around a corner and leads the way down a staircase. He stumbles behind her and closes his eyes for a second at how good her warm, soft hand feels around his; but then he remembers that walking down a foreign staircase drunk and blind probably isn’t the best idea. “Where are we going?”

“What do you think?” Carla asks back before she comes to halt in front of a door at the end of the long, dimly lit hallway they just walked down.

Samuel blinks confusedly, looks down at their entwined hands and then looks up again.

Carla groans and chuckles at the same time. How can someone be that slow-witted? Okay, its probably (hopefully) just because of the alcohol. She lets go of his hand and opens the door, switching the light on at the same time. “Voilà! A toilet. Just for you.”

It still takes him a few seconds and a gentle nudge from Carla until he finally enters the room and slams the door shut. She hears him clumsily fumble with the lock on the other side, which makes her palm her face in amusement. “Its okay, leave it open. I won’t come in.”

She leans against the cold wall and stares down the empty hallway as she waits for him. The sounds coming from upstairs are muffled, and she realizes that she somehow feels way more comfortable down here, away from everyone else. The door opposite her opens again and her mind springs back to reality. Samuel takes two steps forward, then stops about half a meter in front of her. He looks more serious now, and Carla registers how his eyes scan her body for a few seconds before they come to rest on her face. Normally, she hates when guys stare at her like that, especially when they’re drunk and lose all of their decency. But right now, it just turns her on. She doesn’t know if it’s caused by her level of alcohol or if it’s because its Samuel who stares at her; the only thing she knows right now is that she wants him to touch her, grab her and just –

Fuck it, she thinks. Now or never.

She feels him stiffen abruptly as she slants her lips over his hungrily, holding him in place with one hand on the back of his neck and one tangled in his dark wild hair. His lips feel warm and wet against hers, tasting like champagne and gin and tequila and him, and it drives her fucking crazy. But then, just as she’s about to slide her tongue into his mouth, she feels his hands on her shoulders as he roughly pushes her back and holds her away from him at arm-length.

“Carla, what –?” His brows are furrowed, and he looks…kind of angry? “You have a boyfriend!” Yup, definitely angry.

Her mind goes blank for a second, that’s not the reaction she anticipated. “That’s none of your business,” she says with a piercing gaze, then bites her lip. “And right now, I just want you.”

He lets go of her shoulders and takes a step back. “Well, it is my business when you’re trying to cheat on him with me,” he gesticulates furiously. “That’s fucking shitty, Carla. I thought you were a good person. I really– I don’t know, started to like you.”

“Like me?” Carla scoffs. “You flirted with me the whole night, and I don’t know whether you understood it or not, but I flirted with you, too. So what did you expect? That I just wanted to befriend you?”

“I didn’t flirt with you.”

“You didn’t flirt with me? And what does telling me I’m cute and staring at my tits count to you as?” she can’t help but raise her voice at his idiocy.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he takes a step towards her again, searching her eyes. “I’m sorry if I flirted with you or stared at you. I shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again. We’ll tell nobody about this and just forget it, and you can go back to your boyfriend and I’ll be careful about what I say and do in the future. Deal?”

They stand in silence for a few seconds, their heavy breathing the only sound being heard.

“My boyfriend doesn’t love me,” Carla then says suddenly. Her voice is neutral while she stares at some point behind Samuel with a blank expression. “And I don’t love him, too. I’m just with him so he invests in my family’s company, and he’s just with me to show me off like a piece of meat or some perverted form of trophy.”

“What?” Samuel asks in disbelief. Its not more than a whisper. Carla finally looks into his eyes and he feels something shatter inside of him at how broken and hopeless she looks all of sudden. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

But Carla doesn’t answer. Instead, she pushes her mouth onto his again, but more softly this time. Samuel feels his heartbeat quicken yet again, and when he notices with how much desperate urgency she kisses him, he can’t resist her anymore. He moves his lips in sync with hers and grabs onto her hips firmly, making her gasp into his mouth. His stomach tightens at her small moan, and he walks forward to push her against the wall until her tits press into his chest and she can feel his arousal against her lower stomach, even through the solid fabric of his jeans.

“You sure you won’t regret this?” Samuel mumbles, breaking the kiss and moving his right hand up to cup her cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. “That you’ll not feel sorry for him after?”

Carla shakes her head no and moves forward to kiss him again, but Samuel stops her, his hand firmly resting between her shoulder and throat now. It’s cute if he thinks that’s going to stop her. She moves forward again with a smirk just to provoke him, an involuntarily moan leaving her lips as he tightens his grip to hold her head in place. A look of quiet realization takes over his face at her reaction, and when she orders him to “kiss me until I’m sorry” in a bossy yet seductive tone, Samuel completely loses it.

He has her up against the wall in no time, hands squeezing her ass while she impatiently squirms in his grip, desperate for more.

“Do you really want to do this here?” Samuel stops from pampering her neck with wet kisses, breathing heavily.

Okay, maybe he has a point in that. Carla wiggles so that he lets her down and then quickly takes his hand, losing no time as she guides him into another room in the hallway that’s apparently used as a study. She shoves him down on the couch that’s standing inside and switches a floor lamp on in one of the corners. The room is illuminated with warm, dim light now, which Samuel is kind of thankful for. It gives him the chance to take in every curve of her body as Carla strips down in front of him until she’s in nothing but her panties, clearly putting on a show when she registers his admiring stare.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she purrs into Samuel’s ear while straddling him, pushing her sex against the bump in his jeans. He bites her neck in response and Carla jerks away quickly.

“No hickeys, understand?” the strict tone in her voice makes him twitch in his pants, and he swallows thickly, turning to kiss her full breasts instead, more careful now.

Carla’s still sitting in his lap when she watches him put on the condom that he luckily found in his wallet, lips bit in anticipation. She’s more than excited about how it’ll feel to be with someone else after all these years. It can only get better if she’s honest.

And then Samuel has the audacity to smile at her when he’s ready; not a lustful, horny smile, but a smile more genuine, one that’s sweet and reassuring, yet a tad insecure. She tries to smile back in the same way, though she isn’t sure its as authentic as his. Then she shifts her hips to line him up at her entrance, making both of them shut their eyes in pleasure when she lowers herself down on him in a swift motion.

They’re grabbing onto each other equally desperate when Carla feels just how good he fills her up and when Samuel feels just how tight she is, hips moving together in the most pleasant rhythm. They’re gasping and kissing and sweating as they devour their bodies to each other on that couch, hidden from the bustle of the party going on above their heads, creating their own little world full of fun and pleasure far away from expensive drinks and business talks.

Carla’s surprised at how easily he makes her cum; or maybe its not that surprising at all, his fingertips really are as rough as she’d imagined. The movement of his thumb on her center makes her shudder when she’s coming down from her high, and she stops him by taking his hand and sucking his index and middle finger inside of her mouth, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes. Samuel groans at the sight, hips jerking up fast and desperate now, and she leans forward when she feels he’s close. He deliberately takes the offer, muffling his low moans by pressing his face into her tits.

--

Her reappearance in the living room doesn’t stay hidden for too long.

“Carla!”, Marina hugs her. “Finally! Where have you been? Yeray told me you’re here but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Happy birthday to you!” the blonde says with a wide beam, ignoring the question. “Hope you had a good night so far.”

“Except boring talks with my parents’ so-called friends, it’s been pretty good,” Marina answers. She lowers her voice a bit, then adds “but Nano made up for that.”

So that’s were Marina’s been when she couldn’t find her. Maybe Carla and her friend aren’t that different after all.

“And where have you been?” Marina questions again. “Yeray’s been searching for you since an hour or so.”

But Carla doesn’t answer, instead looks at something over Marina’s shoulder with wide eyes. The redhead turns around to follow Carla’s gaze. Her eyes directly land onto Samuel, who just entered the room and now walks over to where Christian and Nano are standing. She looks at Carla again, disbelief evident in her eyes. “Don’t tell me you and Samuel…?” she gestures between them with her finger.

“He’s as good with his hands as I’d imagined a guitarist to be,” Carla simply shrugs, trying her best to look unimpressed. But she can’t fool her friend, not Marina. That mischievous little smirk in the corner of her lips had always given Carla away, and tonight wasn’t any different.

Chapter Text

The first thing Samuel thinks of when waking up way too early on Sunday morning is how Carla looked at him right before leaving Marina’s party.

He’d been standing in the living room next to Christian and Nano when some guy appeared next to her. Her boyfriend, he immediately thought, accompanied by a wave of hot guilt rushing over him. He felt a thin layer of sweat building up on his lower back as he caught snippets of their conversation.

“Where have you been?” the guy asked, voice low and rushed.

Samuel could see how Carla turned away with a sigh, obviously annoyed. But before he could hear her answer, his sight was blocked by a group of people who came to stand right in front of Carla and her boyfriend, their chatter and laughter drowning the words Samuel desperately tried to catch. Next thing he saw was Carla being led out of the room by that guy, his hand on her lower back as he urged her towards the main door. But before she was out of Samuel’s sight, she turned around one last time, blonde hair swiveling around her head as she granted him a final glance. And Samuel could swear that her features softened when she caught him staring back at her, angry brows and tight lips relaxing as soon as her eyes met his.

And now he sees this image of her every time he closes his eyes. Sadness and anger mixing into the afterglow of sex he detected in her face and that he hoped nobody else could see. Her cheeks rosy and lips swollen ever so slightly – to Samuel, she looked even more perfect than before. And little did he know that she had the exact same thought as she caught sight of him standing there, hair a little more tousled than before and a content smile on his lips. 

It doesn’t take him too long to consider his next step. He sits up in his bed and reaches for his phone. Without thinking, he goes through his contacts, then dials the number he searched for.

“Samuel?” Marina’s voice sounds low and sleepy. “What justifies you calling me at eight on a Sunday morning?”

He clears his throat before speaking up. “Hey Marina, I wanted to ask you for something. Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. And sorry, did I wake you up?”

“I was in bed at four, what do you think?” Marina complains, then her voice gets quieter as she says, “it’s your brother, who else?” to Nano, who apparently is awake now, too.

“I hope this is important,” Marina adds when Samuel doesn’t answer for a few seconds.

“Yeah it somehow is, I mean I probably could’ve waited a bit before calling, it really is early, hm? I could call back in an hour or–“ Samuel scratches his neck. This was a bad idea.

“Samuel” Marina warns him.

“Okay okay it’s– I just wanted to ask you if you, ehm, could give me Carla’s phone number?” his voice sounds far too squeaky as he feels his face heat up.

Marina and Nano try their best to not crack up at Samuel’s desperate tone as they listen to him on loudspeaker. Nano just shakes his head while Marina covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

“I,” Samuel awkwardly clears his throat, “told her about our next concert and promised to send her the exact dates and then I realized I don’t have her number and –“

“Well,” Marina decides to interrupt him and end his torture. “You could just tell me the dates and I’ll send them to her.” Okay, perhaps she doesn’t end his torture yet. She can’t help it, he’s just so entertaining.

“Yeah that’s possible, too. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of that yet,” his voice gets insecure. “Maybe it’ll be better this way.”

“Samuel, please, I know you two fucked last night.”

“What? No! What– What makes you think that?” Samuel immediately palms his face at how obvious his lie is. He’s probably the worst candidate Carla could’ve picked for a secret love affair.

“She told me. And she said you were good with your hands,” Marina adds cheekily, making Nano groan. He isn’t too interested in finding out the details of his brother’s sex life.

“Did she really say that?” It’s probably not the moment to feel proud about his fingering skills, on the other hand getting praised by someone as critical as Carla would make anyone proud.

Marina hums in affirmation, and then she really ends his torture. “I’ll send you her number, okay?”

--

What is one supposed to feel after cheating on their boyfriend of eight years?

Carla certainly doesn’t know the answer to that questions. And she doesn’t know what she’d expected to feel, either. The only thing she does know is that she wasn’t prepared to feel the whole range of human emotions after she slept with Samuel.

The first thing she registered was a rush of adrenaline and power.

When Yeray approached her in the living room at Marina’s party, asking her where she’d been the whole night, an inevitable feeling of superiority crept up on her – finally she had something her boyfriend couldn’t take away from her: a secret.

“Let me go!” she hissed after he practically dragged her outside. Her legs were shaky as she stomped towards the shiny black car that was supposed to pick them up.

“What? Did you expect me to be happy after you left me standing there like an idiot?” Ugh, he’s angry, Carla thought while getting into the car, that’s pretty rare.

“So you’re expecting me to just overhear all those sexist comments so you can have your little business chit-chat? Really?”

Yeray sighed at that, playing out time by putting on his seatbelt.

“No,” his voice was calmer now. “I just expect you to take some responsibility and respect my work, not make it harder by acting against me.”

Carla stared at him in disbelief. This was ridiculous. “First off, I didn’t act against you, and secondly, I’m not willing to do anything for you when you’re not doing anything for me.”

And then she immediately regretted her words as she saw Yeray’s expression changing, just how it does every time before he gives her a lecture about everything he’d done for her: That he always tries to fulfill her every wish, spoils her with diamonds, dresses and dinners, that anything he does has the purpose of making her happy. Bullshit.

But Carla didn’t even bother to speak up and just let him go on about how he’s the perfect boyfriend. It’s not that she hasn’t tried to explain to him before that the three D’s (diamonds, dresses, dinners) don’t cause her to be perfectly happy (what a surprise). But to be fair, it wasn’t only his fault that the endless what-makes-you-happy-discussions came to nothing every time. Because whenever he questioned what else he can do to make her happy or what other things she needs, he is met with silence.

What do you need to be happy, Carla? What is it?

Its almost torture that she wakes up with this exact thought on her mind on Sunday morning. She stretches in the soft sheets of her and Yeray’s king size bed with a sigh and immediately registers a familiar smell coming from downstairs.

Pancakes should be a good start on her journey to find happiness.

The only stupid thing is that the sight of Yeray preparing her favorite breakfast in the kitchen doesn’t cause her to feel happy. Instead, it makes her feel incredibly guilty.

“Thank you,” Carla says with a soft smile as he puts three perfectly round, golden and fluffy pancakes onto her plate.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Carla looks at Yeray with raised brows while pouring some sirup over her plate.

“I should’ve said something,” he goes on, sitting down beside her. “I- I was just nervous and I didn’t know what to do…” He lets out a sigh and stares at the protein shake before him.

“It’s okay,” Carla shrugs, a new wave of guilt rushing over her. Why can’t he just be an asshole about it? Why does he have to be nice? “You’re forgiven. But only because these pancakes taste like heaven,” she points at them with her fork, then picks up a piece and holds it out for him. “Have a try?”

He hesitantly stares at the sweet delicacy on Carla’s fork, all smudged with brown sirup. “No thanks, I made them for you.”

“Oh come on,” she urges, holding the fork into his face so closely it’s nearly touching his lips. “Do it for me, please.”

His lips are sticky with the sugary sirup when he pecks her afterwards. Normally, the excessive sweetness of it is one of Carla’s favorite things to taste, but in this moment, it just makes her stomach twist.

The next emotion that pelts down on her after that weird mix of power and guilt is introduced by a familiar flutter in her stomach. She’s turned on. Its nothing special to feel stimulated by a sex scene, of course. What makes it special is that she isn’t thinking about the man sitting next to her as she witnesses the main characters of some cheesy romantic comedy getting it on, no, she’s thinking about Samuel. How he kissed her far too passionately for someone as dorky as him, how he brushed his fingers against her skin light as a feather one moment and then roughly grabbed her by the hips in the next, needily guiding her movements with ragged intakes of breath, all the while looking up at her like she’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

The vibration of her phone rips her out of her daydream. She doesn’t know if she feels thankful or annoyed for that. But she's got not much time to think about it, because when she looks at her phone and sees a message from an unknown number, her prior thoughts are erased all at once.

Are you ok?

The randomness of it makes her chuckle. Are you ok? No introduction, no explanation about the context or who the person behind the number is. Of course she knows who it is, but still.

Yeray gives her a weird look from where he’s sitting on the couch, silently asking what’s going on.

“Nothing,” Carla shakes her head and waves him off. “Just Marina.”

Oh sweet lies, Carla thinks, still unaware of the fact that “just Marina” will soon become the second-most lie she tells Yeray on a regular base, right after “I love you”.

--

Occupation is the best form of distraction for Carla. She throws herself into work on Monday morning, and the days pass by fast while she’s caught in a blur of power, guilt, lust and work-induced exhaustion. Yeray tells her to take a break every now and then, but as his suggestion is being blatantly ignored, he finally gives up.

And then it’s Thursday afternoon and Carla can’t take it anymore.

“Hi,” she’s still out of breath after climbing the stairs up to Marina’s fifth floor apartment. “Can we talk?”

They’re sitting in the small kitchen, having a coffee and some far too dry organic cookies, and Carla asks herself how Marina managed to live here all the years. It’s not like her parents wouldn’t give her more money so she could get an apartment by herself. But the curly-haired girl always insists that her lifestyle isn’t based on money, that she likes to live together with her roommates and doesn’t need much space.

Generally, Marina always states that she doesn’t need much to be happy as long as she’s surrounded by the people she loves. Carla used to roll her eyes at her friend’s romantic view of life, finding it naïve and childish and somehow pathetic. She always thought that Marina would ultimately admit that having a prestigious job and a good income beats being surrounded by loved ones. Instead, its Carla who begins to have her doubts. Maybe it was her who had been wrong all along, whenever she stated that love and happiness depend on money and successful business, not on surrounding yourself with the right people.

Marina patiently waits for Carla to start talking, proving that she can be decent if she wants to (and because she’s a sensationalist and knows that being pushy won’t make Carla talk).

“So uhm,” Carla looks anywhere but Marina’s face. “You know that Samuel and I slept with each other.”

Marina nods while taking a sip of her coffee, softly encouraging her friend to go on.

“And now he texted me and I don’t really know what to answer?” The raise of her voice makes the sentence an unintentional question.

Marina isn’t surprised that Carla’s not wondering how he got her number. It’s obvious. “What did he text you?” she then asks, genuinely interested. Though she told Samuel to not make it awkward and play it cool, it’s probably something dumb.

Carla slides her phone over the table.

“Are you okay? Without anything else? God he’s such an idiot,” Marina lets out a little laugh and Carla joins her. Roasting boys has always been their favorite hobby.

Then Marina crinkles her forehead. “He sent it on Sunday and you still haven’t replied?”

Carla just shrugs and bites into one of the cookies. They’re as dry as they look like. “I didn’t know what to write,” she chews. (Talking with full mouths was another hobby of them, especially at dinner nights with their parents.)

“Oh Carla,” Marina’s voice is full of pity for Samuel. “You can’t do that to someone like him, that boy probably hasn’t slept all week. You need to answer him, please. Even if it’s just an emoji or something.”

--

Samuel lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. Normally, he dedicates his work-free nights to his hobby, either writing or practicing songs on his guitar. Sometimes he ruffles through his stack of note papers and plays old songs just for fun, and sometimes he learns to cover a famous song. But right now, he can’t bring himself to do any of that. He’s neither able to concentrate nor feels any trace of creativity in his veins. He rolls onto his side and begins to go through social media for a while, then sighs when there’s nothing but the usual shit on there. He lays on his back again for a minute, sighs again and wanders into the kitchen. He makes himself a cup of tea and opens his laptop to find some stupid movie to watch at least. Just as he’s cuddled into his sheets, there’s a knock on the door. He sighs again and gets up reluctantly, looks down at his glorious outfit of a white tee and grey sweatpants, thinks whatever and opens the door.

Samuel looks like a deer in the headlights when he sees Carla standing in the hallway. In his hallway.

“Hey,” she smirks. “Will you let me in or what?”

“Sure, come in,” Samuel makes room for her quickly. “I was just– I mean I didn’t expect it to be you standing behind the door.”

Carla walks into his apartment as sovereign as possible. She finds a room of maybe 25 square meters, all walls white, wooden floor squeaking under her feet. There’s a self-made bed out of euro pallets, some shiny green plants, two guitars leaning against a wall. There’s a small desk with piles of note sheets and small drawings pinned onto the wall behind it. There are stacks of books next to his bed he apparently uses as a nightstand, and there's a light chain hanging above the headboard, spreading warm light inside the room. A soft smile forms on her lips as she looks around. His apartment’s basically dripping from that kind of alternative hipster vibe that isn’t alternative at all, but its somehow also so full of him, the creative, sensitive, awkward, cute guy, that Carla instantly finds it charming.

“And who did you expect then? Another woman?” She doesn’t know why she’s asking this. Its none of her business, really.

“No!” Samuel’s standing next to her in the middle of the room now, watching her as she looks around. “I didn’t expect anyone, to be honest. Well, maybe my neighbor who I always accept packages for,” he shrugs. “How do you even know where I live?”

Carla turns around from where she’s viewing the small drawings over his desk. “How did you get my number?”

Ten minutes later they’re sitting in Samuel’s kitchen, what’s more a niche than a proper room, but at least there’s a table and two chairs in it. He’s made them tea after making sure that Carla didn’t want something to eat, and now he’s basically waiting for her to start talking, because he certainly has no idea what to say. He begins to play with the bag of tea in his mug, lifting and dunking it into the steaming liquid again and again. Lift, dunk, lift, dunk, lift, dunk, lif–

“To answer your message, I am okay.” Carla watches him with the tiniest of smirks.

“Cool,” Samuel nods and takes a sip of tea out of his mug. He hisses at how hot it is, hand involuntarily jerking away from his lips. Some tea spills onto the table. “I mean it’s cool that you’re okay. It’s great. I just wanted to make sure, you know.”

He focuses the dark stain the tea left on his wooden table, desperately trying to gain some self-confidence. Talking to her was definitely easier for him after having a couple of drinks.

“Samuel,” Carla leans forward, voice a bit softer now. He looks up at her with wide eyes, and she finds her own fright and nervousness reflected in them. She’s just better at hiding it. “I don’t want things between us to be awkward. I don’t regret it, okay? It was great, you were great.”

He smiles at her words. “Thanks, I can only return this,” he mumbles. “Nonetheless I feel so guilty. I mean I know it was a mistake, but then again I wouldn’t want to miss it…”

Wait, what? A mistake?

“What makes you think it was a mistake?” Carla can’t hide her indignation. No one ever said that sleeping with her had been a mistake. Okay, her list of lovers only consists of Polo and Yeray, but whatever. Sleeping with her was an honor, if anything.

Samuel chuckles nervously. “We drunk fucked at our friend’s party while your boyfriend was right above her heads, that just can’t be right.”

Her heartbeat speeds up with anger. It didn’t seem like he regretted it when he breathed her name over and over while clutching to her naked body, making it sound like some kind of religious chant. He just can’t be serious, can he?

Before she knows it she’s on her way to the door, her angry steps making the floor squeak even louder. But she doesn’t quite reach the door, not without feeling Samuel’s grip around her wrist and an dramatical “Wait! Don’t go! Carla!”

She hopes to scare him off with an annoyed sigh, but his shyness seemed to have evaporated as soon as the atmosphere had shifted, his determined stare as he stands in front of her being good proof for that. And honestly, in any other situation she would’ve found his change in character endearing. But not now.

“What?”

“The thing you told me about your boyfriend, is that true? Or did you only say that to make me sleep with you?”

Her hand flies across his face before she registers what she’s doing, leaving a hard slap on his left cheek. For a second, Carla thinks she’s won, but then he turns back to her, not showing the slightest intention of backing off.

“Who’s a cheater must be a liar, too, hm? So that’s what you think of me,” she hisses enraged. “That I make up a story about how I’m basically prostituting myself for my parents’ business only to get you to fuck me?”

That’s the exact reason why she’s never told anyone about it except for Marina. People just don’t understand. Or worse, they don’t believe it. Or, even more worse, judge her for it. 

“Listen, think of me what you want, okay? That I’m a spoiled brat, a princess, a gold digger, a whore – I don’t care. But let me tell you: Some things have to be done, if you want to or not. Not everyone has the privilege of doing what they want, of living out their creativity or leading a fulfilling life. Some people have to take responsibilities, have to do things against their will to protect their families and maintain the big whole. The position I’m in isn’t based on fate or luck. No, it comes with a prize, and I’m willing to pay that prize, be it for the rest of my life.”

She waits for him to answer as she tries to calm down her breath. But Samuel just stares at her and Carla can’t quite decipher the look in his eyes. It’s confused, upset, worried. Maybe that’s what throws her off, the worry.

“I’m sorry,” Samuel feels his cheek stinging as he starts talking. “I’m sorry for accusing you of lying,” then his voice gets quieter, “and I’m sorry that you have to go through this. I really am. But I don’t think that you’re a spoiled brat or anything else. I think that you’re a great woman, the greatest I met so far. And if there’s anything I can do to make this all better, just tell me, okay? I can be there for you, even if just as a frie–“

He’s silenced again, but not by a slap this time. He kisses her back roughly as soon as her lips meet his, and she wastes no time in shoving him back against the wall, making him gasp as she presses herself against him. He yanks off her shirt with shaky hands, exposing her chest that’s still flushed with anger. She does the same to him and he moans when she presses herself against his bare torso and slips her hand into his sweatpants. He hastily takes off her bra while she caresses his length with tight strokes, then he begins to nibble and suck the delicate skin of her breasts. She doesn’t lecture him about not leaving hickeys this time, but he still tries to be careful. Well, as careful as possible with her hand wrapped around his cock.

They land on his bed eventually, naked and all over each other in between the white sheets. Their prior fury is still evident in the way they kiss and touch the other, roughly groping each other’s bodies while their mouths are pressed together in a way that’s nearly suffocating.

Carla pushes him away after a few minutes, mouth deeply red and mascara lightly smudged around her eyes. She doesn’t need to say anything for Samuel to roll over and grab a condom, quickly putting it on before pinning her down again. She arches her back when he enters her and immediately begins to thrust, not giving them a chance to adjust to each other. Being tender or thoughtful isn’t what either of them needs at the moment.

He fucks her fast and deep, and when he swings one of Carla’s legs over his shoulder, she's seeing stars for a second. Her moans get louder with each of his thrusts, and suddenly she feels his hand on her mouth. She pops her eyes open in surprise and finds Samuel’s face all blushed and sweaty, a smirk playing on his lips as he tells her that “the walls are very thin”.

When he wants to take his hand away again and Carla grabs his wrist and holds it there, he leans down to her with a groan, his hips hitting hers even harder now. Of course, being hot isn’t enough for her, she has to be kinky, too. Samuel really hopes that he can meet her standards in bed, but judging by her steady moans it can’t be too bad for her.

“Fuck,” Carla breathes when Samuel falls down next to her.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” he pants, earning a lighthearted slap onto his chest.

“You’re so dumb.”

She instantly regrets her words when he rolls onto her again, but this time his purposes are far from sexual. A high-pitched squeal leaves her lips along with laughter when his fingers find her sides, tickling and squeezing them until she’s squirming beneath him and takes her last comment back.

“How will things go on between us now?” Samuel asks quietly. His head is resting on her chest and he traces the skin of her stomach with his index finger, watching tiny white hairs stand up whenever he’s coming across an especially sensitive spot of skin, causing small goosebumps to arise.

“I don’t know,” Samuel feels the vibration of her voice under his head as she speaks. “Do you want to do this again?”

He turns to look at her and finds her smiling at him. Okay, he really can’t say no to that. Even if he still feels guilty somehow.

He presses soft kisses onto her stomach and chest until finally finding her lips, his voice not more than a whisper. “I’d love to do this again.”

--

“And??” Marina nearly screams through the phone speakers.

Carla jumps at the high-pitched sound. “We talked,” she begins to fulfill her promise of telling Marina how her meeting with Samuel went. That had been their deal: Marina gives her Samuel’s address, and in exchange for that, Carla has to tell her everything. Its no surprise her friend’s so encouraging about the whole thing, she probably thinks its a way to make Carla finally split up with Yeray. Well, no. “And then we, you know, had sex.”

“Yesss! Nice, Carla, I’m proud!” The blonde rolls her eyes at her friend’s excitement. Who on earth is proud when they turned their best friend into a cheater? Okay, Carla isn’t innocent in all that of course, but Marina’s playing a big part in it, too. Without her, she never would’ve met Samuel.

“And how will things between you go on now? What about Yeray?”

“Since when do you worry about Yeray?” Carla asks defensively. “Nothing’s with him. Samuel and I agreed that its something casual. We’re friends, and sometimes we fuck. Like in that movie, you know?”

“But you do know how that movie ended, don’t you?” Marina objects. “And don’t you think its unfair to Yeray? You know I don’t like him but that’s just objectively wrong. I mean wouldn’t it be better to finally end–“

“First, my life is not a movie,” her tone’s sharper than she thought. “And second, I’m not doing this to hurt Yeray, I’m doing it to keep him from being hurt. Because lately, I really thought that our relationship wouldn’t last for much longer, I…couldn’t bear it anymore. But now that I’ve got something to blow off steam, I’m positive that Yeray and I can keep it going. I’m okay with it. I’m maintaining the big whole, you know?”

Marina sighs in defeat. The big whole. That’s Carla’s knockout argument. She always brings it up when defending her parents or herself for something that can’t be excused, it’s a codex that’s been hammered into Carla’s brain since she can think. Maintaining the big whole justifies any action average human beings would simply consider morally wrong. But her parents are no average human beings, and Carla’s been caught up in their twisted argumentations, lies and manipulations for so long it shouldn’t wonder Marina that she comes up with something so twisted herself now. She can’t even be angry at Carla. Anyone else would probably think that she’s heartless and selfish, but the only thing Marina sees right now is her friend’s vivid desperation.

“Carla, you know that things like these never play out good, or?” her tone’s changed. Its softer now. Empathetic.

The blonde hums quietly. “I know. But I’m not planning on doing this forever. Just a few weeks, maybe. I just need some distraction…”

“Okay,” Marina decides to agree for now. “And you’re sure Samuel’s cool with it? He’s so nice, please don’t ruin him. The world doesn’t need another emotionally wrecked fuckboy.”

Carla chuckles softly. “He said he’s okay with it. I’ll instantly back off when I notice him getting weird about it, I promise.”

Chapter Text

She’s going to be his death. That’s the only proper thought Samuel can catch right now, the only words his brain’s able to form next to shit and fuck and Carla. Evil tongues would probably call him dramatic, but Samuel has evidence.

His last first aid-course had been two years ago, but that doesn’t stop him from remembering the symptoms of a heart attack, and when he compares them to his current state, they fit horrifyingly well. Shortness of breath? Check. Feeling weak or lightheaded or both? Check. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety? Check. Chest pain? Check (as long as feeling like your heart’s going to explode counts). Well,

“Shit!” Samuel really hopes he’s not hurting her while he’s gripping onto her hair for dear life. “Fuck! Carla I –“ he bites the insides of his cheeks in an desperate attempt of trying to stay quiet. But the blonde to his feet doesn’t seem to mind, as much as she didn’t listen to his protests when she got down on her knees in the garage five minutes ago. Its only a matter of minutes until Nano and Omar will arrive for their weekly rehearsal, but when Samuel told her that, Carla just shrugged and promised to make it quick, which meant nothing less than her immediately putting him into her mouth and focusing on doing that mind-whacking thing with her tongue a little more than usual. And what can he say, it worked.

“Earth to Samuel? Someone there?”

He opens his eyes at her amused whisper and finds her back on her feet again. The last minute has been pretty much a blur, so he didn’t really register her putting his pants back on and standing up.

“Fuck,” he leans his head back against the wall, his voice not more than a low rumble. “You’re unbelievable, Carla.”

“I know,” she smirks, then leans closer to whisper into his ear. “You’re so fucking hot when you cum.”

He kisses her not only because he needs to feel her lips on his, but also because if she doesn’t stop talking now, he’ll not be able to contain himself anymore, and then they’ll really get caught. It’s both frightening and amazing how he never seems to get enough from her.

“You need to come over sooner next time so that I can return the favor,” Samuel licks his lips, their faces inches from touching. “I feel bad now.”

“Shh,” she puts her index finger onto his mouth and smirks when his lips immediately loosen up at her touch. He’s so easy. “I like doing this, I don’t need anything in return. Its enough for me to know how much power I have over you.”

Samuel clicks his lips and pulls her closer by her hips. “You’re so convinced of yourself, you know that?”

Carla nods, the smile on her lips getting wider when she feels his hands wandering up her sides. “It’s not my fault you can’t resist me.”

Her stomach flutters in anticipation. She knows that if she wants to avoid being tickled, she should move away now. But she doesn’t, already preparing herself to squirm in his grip and clutch to his shoulders until he has mercy with her, when suddenly the garage door is swinged open.

Despite they’re fully clothed and currently not engulfed in any sexual activity, they both jump a little when they spot Nano and Omar. The boys walk in with a suggestive expression plastered over their faces.

“I’m not gonna give you a handshake before you wash your hands,” Nano says to Samuel. Then his eyes flicker over to Carla for a second and he gives her a tiny nod. She’s already used to his reservedness whenever they meet, its obvious he isn’t her biggest fan. He turns around to prepare his instrument without further commentary, leaving them to say goodbye.

--

“Okay, so I thought…,” Nano rummages around in his backpack, “that we could try a new song today.”

Samuel and Omar both nod, waiting for Nano to hand them the crinkled note sheets he’s holding. It’s part of their agreement: anyone can suggest songs, self-written or cover-versions, as long as they’re not too difficult and only require the instruments they’re able to play. And since Samuel’s the only one of them who writes songs himself, he knows that Nano’s song suggestion will be a cover. He’s fine with it, though. Its always fun to cover songs, as long as you don’t compare yourself to the actual band because, well, they’re always way better. But they don’t play to be the best, that’ll never happen anyway. They play to have fun.

“Is that a joke?” Samuel stares at the sheet, then into the grinning face of his brother.

“What’s your problem?” Omar shrugs. “‘Scotty doesn’t know’ is a good song.”

“Yeah sure,” Samuel scoffs angrily. “If you two want to play that, I’m out. Maybe call Christian and ask him if he wants to sing.” He’s not sassy enough to actually crumple the paper up and throw it into the bin, so he just puts it back into Nano’s backpack and tries to look as angry as possible while doing so.

“Oh come on,” Nano rolls his eyes. “Can’t you take a joke these days? Besides, I really want to play that song. Teasing you with it was just the icing on the cake.”

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on please?” Omar complains, head alternating between Nano and Samuel.

“Its because of his chick you imbecile,” Nano clarifies. “She’s cheating on her boyfriend with him since, I don’t know– how long is that thing going between you two now? Five, maybe six weeks?” he looks at his brother shortly, but Samuel just stares at him with his arms crossed, not answering. “And yeah– I don’t think I need to explain the song lyrics to you, do I?”

“Ohh…that makes sense” Omar nods, trying to contain a stern look though he must admit that Nano’s right, it is funny. “I mean I like the song, but if Samuel doesn’t want to play it then we won’t. Although playing something new wouldn’t be too bad…”

“I’d like to play something new, too, but our musical genius hasn’t come up with any good songs lately,” Nano digs against Samuel. “Seems like that girl’s not only sucking your dick but also the creativity out of your brain.”

Samuel feels his heartbeat speed up (he’s pretty close to having his second almost-heartattack that day), but he tries to calm down by reminding himself that his brother’s words are often harsher than he intends them to be. Nano’s just not good at thinking before speaking. Therefore, the younger one pushes his anger aside and choses to focus on proving his brother wrong instead of fighting.

“Actually, I’ve brought a new song today,” he announces. “I wrote it only yesterday and it still needs some fine tune here and there, but I think it could be something.”

Nano and Omar stare at the lyrics and notes that are scribbled down in Samuel’s weird handwriting, neat but messy at the same time. On top of the sheet it says ‘She’s casual’ in big letters.

It doesn’t take them long to realize who the song is about. But to Samuel’s surprise, neither of them points it out. They both nod and agree, whether it may be because they actually approve of the song, or because they don’t want to provoke another discussion.

After an hour of practicing, all three are sure: Samuel’s intuition had been right. That song could be something. And when they set it to music in the sound studio a week later, their opinion only strengthens. Now, they’re pretty sure that the song not only could be something, more so, it will be something.

--

“How’s work?” Carla asks in between hasty kisses. It’s a desperate attempt of sharing at least a few words before they get down to it.

“Boring,” Samuel answers before moving his lips down to her neck. He likes talking to her, but right now he really hasn’t got time for that. They’re in the backseat of her car, and he only has thirteen minutes of his break left. And if that isn’t enough to stress him out, they’re in the middle of the restaurant’s parking lot, and its about five in the afternoon. Though Carla explained that the windows of her black Mercedes aren’t see-through, Samuel can’t help but jump every time he hears people opening and closing their car doors right next to them.

“You’re such a scaredy-cat,” Carla giggles when Samuel’s muscles twitch once again.

“Shut up,” he kisses his way back to her mouth and begins to open the buttons of her blouse with shaky fingers, revealing a black lacy bra with cross straps above the cups. He groans. “New?”

She nods and bites her lower lip, asks “you like it?” with a deep sultry voice.

Samuel nods, still staring at the lacy material that’s emphasizing the perfect round shape of her breasts even more.

“Then wait until you see the matching panties.”

He lets her keep the new set of underwear on as they do it, her panties simply pushed to the side to make room for him. Not only because she looks so hot in it, but because the process of undressing is quite difficult in the limited space of a car’s backseat. He’s not fully undressed as well, his jeans only pushed down as far as it has to be so it doesn’t hinder his movements.

“Two minutes,” Carla pants as she looks onto her watch. “You’ve got two minutes left, perfect timing.”

Samuel slowly raises his head from where it’s been laying on her chest after he practically collapsed onto her seconds ago. “I don’t want to go back to work.”

--

Of course, Marina wants to know everything about her and Samuel when the two girls meet the next time. It’d been quite a while since their last meeting, mostly because Carla spent every unobserved minute with Samuel – telling Yeray that she met up with Marina. And because meeting Marina two or three times a week would’ve gotten a little conspicuous after a while, the redhead had to put back a bit (which she was happy to do for the sake of creating a safe space for her friend’s affair).

And so it comes that the glass of wine they share on Marina’s balcony is the first drink they have since a few weeks. Marina sits down with a content sigh as she gazes over the rooftops of Madrid, closing her eyes at the last few sunrays illuminating her face. Its April now, and spring is in the air. But the silence doesn’t last long. This is Marina, of course it doesn’t last long.

“How’s it going between you and Samuel?” she asks with a smirk. “Is he still good with his hands?”

The problem isn’t that Carla’s embarrassed by talking about sexual stuff. To the contrary, she enjoys sharing experiences with her friend, especially since she now actually has experiences aside from the monotonous, scheduled sex she puts up with for eight years now. Carla's and Yeray's sexual life can’t be described as something different than part of their daily routine, they handle it like brushing their teeth or taking a shower. Its not that bad though, he’s sweet and gentle and all, but its also not what she wants or needs or both. She’s tried to explain that to him, too, just like she explained to him that material stuff alone won’t make her happy, but he just didn’t get her, only looked at her like she was some kind of freak for wanting to try out new things. And at some point she’d just given it up, thinking that even if she knew every word of every single language in the world, she’d still not be able to make him understand her.

Anyways, Carla has no problem with talking about sex in general, yet she finds herself struggling with giving away too much of her experiences with Samuel. Its almost like she’s afraid that someone could take them from her if she said them out loud, that they’ll just be erased from her brain or that thinking about them won’t feel the same after. It also feels like she’s giving away a secret that should’ve better been kept, like talking about it would affect all of its magic and uniqueness.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Carla answers after a bit of contemplation and brings the glass up to her lips.

Marina rolls her eyes, then changes her strategy. “Its just that I can’t imagine him as the sex god he has to be for you to let him fuck you for over a month.”

“Marina!” Carla slaps her shoulder with a gasp. The other girl giggles. “Leave him alone, he’s great! Better than what you have to put up with for sure.”

It’s said with humor, but Marina’s smile instantly fades. Oh shit, did something happen between Nano and her? Is that the reason she’s invited her over today? Does she need someone to talk?

Before she knows it, Carla reaches for her friend's hand, stroking it softly. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nano, he…,” Marina closes her eyes and draws a deep breath, “he told me that he’s been in jail. Three times.”

“Oh shit.”

“I know. And the worst thing is that he’s told it to me just now, two months into our relationship. I mean that’s not something you hide from your partner, is it? He’s treated it as if it was nothing and I just–“ she shields her face with her hand, “I don’t know what to do now.”

Carla’s shocked, but also tempted to say “told you”. She’s known it from the beginning, that something's wrong with that guy. But jail? That’s something not even she has thought of. She tries to dive into logic thinking: it does make a difference if he’d been in jail for illegally downloading music or carrying out an act of violence.

“He did it for money. Stole cars, broke into mansions.”

Okay, that’s not the worst thing to do, but it isn’t the most harmless, either. Carla’s clueless. Is there anything that would warrant Marina staying by his side any longer?

“Do you love him?”

The red-haired girl chuckles dryly. “Since when do you care about love?”

That’s exactly why Marina has invited Carla out of all of her friends: she wants rational, logical advice. Because that’s what Carla’s good at: solving problems logically. Not emotionally. She’s been trained to think with her brain instead of her heart from early childhood on, and the business sharp mind she’s evolved has been to practical use for Marina ever since. It’s all the more surprising that she’s arguing with love now, as if she’d only now realized that it actually exists and has the power to influence people’s decisions.

She tells her that yes, she does love him, and Carla’s reaction to that is even more surprising than her bringing up the whole topic itself.

“Maybe you should talk to him, ask him why he’s been hiding it for so long, though it’s quite obvious. I mean would you’ve dated him if he told you right from the beginning? He was probably just too afraid to tell you.”

When Marina lays in bed later, she can’t stop thinking about her friend’s sudden change of mind. A few months ago, Carla would’ve talked some sense into her and advised her to break up with Nano as quickly as possible, and now she’s all understanding and empathetic? Did she miss something? She can’t seem to wrap her head around it, no matter how she puts it. And so, she falls asleep without any clue for her friend’s weird behavior.

--

“Excuse me, Ms. Rosón, but your 10 o´clock appointment is here,” Carla’s secretary pops her head through the door of her study. The blonde tears her gaze off the laptop screen, corner of her mouth going up ever so slightly.

“Alright, send him in,” she tries to sound neutral, but her insides are already tingling. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Garcia,” she gets up from her seat to greet Samuel. He closes the door and gives her a confused look but doesn’t say anything. Carla eyes him up and down when he walks towards her desk. He’s wearing a light blue button-up shirt and black jeans. She told him to at least try to look serious when he visits her in the office, and while this look is definitely fancier than his usual clothes, he’s still kind of underdressed compared to all the suit-wearing men that are currently inside the building of Caleruega company.

When she holds her hand out for him to shake, she really has to suppress laughter. He looks so lost and confused.

He tries to scan the room as quick as possible, not wanting to waste his time with looking at things other than her, but thanks to the modern and minimalistic furnishing style there isn’t much to see, anyways. In the middle of the room stands a big glass desk, elegantly curved and with the newest iMac on top. Next to the big screen, there are two neat stacks of papers and a few tidily arranged pens. Except for that, there’s only one more piece of furnishing apart from the desk and the stools set up around it, namely a simple white lacquer shelf in which she probably keeps files. And, okay, Samuel has to give her some credit for the palm placed in front of the window, it makes the room look at least halfway humanly.

“Take a seat,” Carla offers him after they share an awkward handshake. But Samuel’s irritation doesn’t keep her from staying in her role. She sits down aswell and leans against the backrest of her desk chair with a small sigh. “What brings you to see me?”

“I uhm…,” Samuel clears his throat. She lifts a brow and looks at him expectantly. That’s right, Samuel. Play along.

“I– I wanted to speak to you about my…,” he leans forward with a deep sigh, then looks at her sternly, “my termination.”

Seriously? That’s like the cheapest porn scenario ever. But whatever, Carla’s in.

“I’m afraid to tell you there’s not much to speak about,” she shrugs, unimpressed. “I’ve already made my decision, and its not like I’ve got no good reasons for that.”

“What reasons?” Samuel asks, maybe a little too curious. The concept of immersion definitely works for him. “I’ve been a loyal employee to you throughout the years. I never called in sick, I was never late, I was almost always the last one to leave. I was reliable, flexible and…”

He trails off when Carla leans forward, placing her folded hands on top of the blue milk glass. “Sometimes, loyalty isn’t everything, Mr. Garcia. It doesn’t interest me how much time you spend working if the time isn’t used productively. Its not quantity that matters, its quality. And your performance lately just wasn’t convincing anymore, I’m sorry.”

His mouth falls open for a second, and Carla stifles a chuckle. Okay, that last sentence could be interpreted more than one way. But apart from their little roleplay, she must admit that his performance is anything but decreasing.

“And there’s nothing I could do to change your mind? To give me one last chance?” he asks in a desperate voice, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t afford to lose my job. I’ve got a wife and two kids at home. I’ve got bills to pay, mouths to feed, its–“

He’s silenced by Carla’s abrupt movement as she stands up. That’s too much roleplay for her liking. She walks around the desk while gracefully dragging her fingertips over the glass, pumps slowly clicking on the dark tiles. Samuel swallows heavily as his eyes wander along her long, toned legs, only covered by a creamy pencil skirt that she’s combined with a simple black blouse. She looks elegant as ever.

“Maybe…,” she begins as she reaches Samuel, brushing her fingers against his shoulders. He cranes his neck to look at her with dark eyes. “There is something you could do.” She leans back against the tabletop and faces him seductively.

“And that is?”

He licks his lips when she heaves herself up onto the table. Someone’s good at guessing. It doesn’t take any more than her slowly spreading her thighs to make him move his chair until he’s sitting right in front of her.

Their prior smirks turn into smiles when Carla leans down and decides to give them a break from their roles. “Hey,” she kisses him softly.

“Hi,” he whispers, gently caressing her knees with his fingers while she holds his face in between her hands and scans his features for a moment. It’s a pity she won’t be able to look at his pretty face while its buried between her thighs, but she doesn’t make the rules, does she?

“Oh my god…,” she mutters, whole body shaking when his head pops up again, hair sticking into all directions thanks to her desperate grasps. Then she swallows thickly, having a hard time to focus her half-lidded eyes on him. “You’re hired.”

--

The sheets beneath her back are damp with sweat as she lays there and stares at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?” She feels the weight of the mattress shift and turns her head slowly. Samuel’s looking at her from beneath thick lashes as he supports his head with his hand.

“Nothing in specific,” she murmurs. Its true. Her mind isn’t working with maximum efficiency due to still processing her latest orgasm. She’s surprised it functions at all to be honest, given how they’d practically screwed each other’s brains out for the last hour.

“How are things going at home?”

She furrows her brows. “Good,” she looks at the ceiling again. “Well, a bit boring maybe, there’s not much happening besides work and daily life.”

Samuel hums. Before he can say anything else, she lays on her side to face him. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question: do I have to worry about Marina?”

He looks confused for a second, then Carla adds: “She told me Nano’s been in jail.”

“Oh this…,” Samuel sighs and begins to pick tiny knots out of the mattress sheet. “It’s– it’s a long story, you know? But he’s no bad guy, he wouldn’t hurt her for the world. Besides, he’s out for three years now and hasn’t done something wrong ever since. He tries really hard.”

Carla draws in a deep breath and nods. He sounds genuine, but she won’t let him shake her off this quickly. And since they still have some time to kill because Carla’s “out to eat with Marina” and can’t come back home just after an hour, she decides to dig deeper. “Well, we still have some time, no? Why don’t you tell me the story?”

He’s hesitant at first, turns around to lay on his back and scratches his scalp as he contemplates about telling her everything that’d make her understand better. Normally, they don’t really have these types of conversations, mostly for the fact that they use their limited time slots for other things. But Carla wouldn’t be Carla if she didn’t know how to wrap him around her finger, and so it only needs a few carefully chosen words and an intense stare to get him to talk.

In conclusion it had been a fucked up childhood that caused Nano to evolve into a troublemaking teen and later adult, mixed with some false friends, the tendency for alcohol and drug use and worries about money. It makes him sound like the stereotype for youth delinquency, but it made sense, still. Just dig in someone’s childhood long enough and you’ll find something that perfectly explains all the failures and fears in someone’s adult life, no? There’s something that doesn’t add up, though.

“And what about you?” Her words aren’t more than a whisper after she listened to Samuel talk. “I mean you grew up in the same family…How did you deal with everything?”

“I guess I’m just not the type that searches for trouble.” A soft smile forms on Carla’s lips. Oh no, he really isn’t the type for trouble. “Nano always got into fights with our father when he was still with us, they were so much alike. Hot headed, loud, kind of choleric. Nano was just about ten or eleven when it got worse, but he fought back every time. I think he wanted to protect my mother and me. And I just used to stay in my room whenever I heard them fighting, avoiding the whole situation until the coast was clear.”

Carla leans up and presses a lingering kiss onto the corner of his lips. She doesn’t know if its appropriate given how sad he sounded during the last minutes, but on the other hand she doesn’t really know what else to do or say. Maybe she should show some solidarity.

“At least I’m not the only one with a fucked-up childhood.”

Wow, creating a delighted atmosphere is really none of her talents. But Samuel doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes already full of curiosity as he remembers what Marina told him at her party. If he wants to know more, now’s his chance to ask. “What do you mean with that?”

Great. Now she has to bare him her soul, too.

She feels uncomfortable when he takes her into his arms after she delivered him some selected pieces of her lonely rich-girl childhood.

No need to get so dramatic, she thinks with her face pressed into his chest. She hasn’t even told him the worst things, like that one time when her parents were out on a business trip over her birthday, or that they got mad at her whenever she cried instead of consoling her to not raise her into an “attention-seeker”, or that it was in fact them who forced her into this whole thing with Yeray by holding her accountable for their own false business calculations and financial problems she had absolutely nothing to do with. She only told him they were almost never around when she was little and that they never read her bedtime stories and shit like this, but it seemed to be enough for Samuel to get insanely worried.

She wants to push him off at first, but something stops her from it. Suddenly, his warm embrace doesn’t feel so bad anymore, and she lets herself sink into his warm, soft skin, the small hairs on his chest tickling her nose.

When they kiss goodbye he tells her that she can always talk to him for the third time that evening, and she shakes her head with a smile when she walks down the staircase. He’s so… she doesn’t even know how to describe it. He’s just Samuel.

--

“What’s that song?” Yeray wonders when he comes into the bathroom.

Carla stops the electric toothbrush for a second and tries to explain that Marina told her to listen to it without spilling any of the foam in her mouth. Lying is definitely easier in situations where no one suspects you to lie, such as in the middle of brushing your teeth. She has to remember that.

Yeray hums at her answer, preparing his own toothbrush. “It’s different.”

“From what?” she comes back up from rinsing her mouth with water and stares at him through the reflection.

“From what you usually hear.”

“I like it,” she says in a defending tone. “It’s something new, and expanding your horizon hasn’t harmed anyone yet, or?”

Of course she’s doomed to regret her harsh answer when Yeray lays down beside her and asks her if anything is wrong. It shouldn’t surprise her that he noticed, he’s not dumb. But still, she thought that deceiving him would be easier. She has to level up. She choses to do it in the way she knows best, the way that has a hundred percent chance of working.

He falls asleep fast after, and as soon as Carla hears his breath getting steady and deep, she grabs her phone from the nightstand.

“I really like your new song, I wonder who it is about ;) I’m sure its gonna sound great on stage.”

She’s a little surprised at herself, because if anyone told her a few months ago that there’d be a song written about her and she’d like it, she would’ve declared them mad. The thought alone would’ve made her cringe with embarrassment and annoyance. But now that it actually happened, she feels neither embarrassed nor annoyed by it. More so, she must admit to herself that she loves it. Because again, its their little secret, no one will ever know that this song is about her except for the other band members and Marina. At least that's what she hopes.

Chapter Text

The bar is twice as crowded than it was at their last concert, but Carla is half as annoyed regardless.

She isn’t the type for crowded places normally, doesn’t like to be pushed around or bump into foreign bodies, doesn’t like their sweat and smell and uncontrolled movements. Still, she finds herself dragging Marina to the very front of the crowd because she “promised Samuel to reside someplace he could see her.”

The redhead takes a swig of beer as Carla goes on talking: “He said that he barely sees anything up on stage, because of the spotlights and all,” she comes to halt when they find a good place to stay near the stage. “But my blonde hair might be an advantage, you know? He told me its easier to see, because its so bright. Makes sense, or? Oh, speaking of my hair, does it look good? I had this weird bend because I wore it in a ponytail earlier and now I–”

“Its fine,” Marina grabs Carla’s hand from where it’s fumbling around in her hair. “You look hot as always. And even if there was a bend, I’m sure Samuel wouldn’t notice it,” Marina nods at Carla’s cleavage. “Not with that shirt.”

She looks down at her black top, maybe the lacy neckline does emphasize her boobs a little bit. Or a lot. “Do you think it’s too much?”

Marina can’t remember that Carla ever looked at her like this before: wide-eyed, nervous, insecure. She doesn’t know where that comes from, though. Her friend’s never been insecure about her looks before. Not even when they were thirteen and their bodies started to get curvy and caused the boys to stare holes into them during their swimming lessons. Carla had never doubted herself, always showed her body off with pride, while Marina vividly remembers that she wished to be swallowed up by the ground on more than one occasion. She’d always thought that Carla had been a bit premature back then, and her suddenly getting self-conscious in the middle of her twenties definitely doesn’t fit into that picture.

It also doesn’t fit that Carla turns around in the middle of the concert and tells the girls behind them that “screaming like stuck pigs won’t get them to notice you”, making sure they overhear her loud commentary (“How can someone be so thirsty?”) when she turns around to Marina again.

“Carla!” Marina elbows her slightly. “Calm down, they’re like fourteen!”

But the blonde just goes on ranting. “That one girl threw her fucking bra onto the stage, did you see that? Her bra!” she points at the bright pink clothing next to Samuel’s feet. “And an ugly one, too. If it was at least pretty – okay. But this thing…”

“Is everything okay with you?” Marina looks at her a little startled.

Carla gives her a confused look while combing her hair with her hand. “Of course, why shouldn’t I be okay? I’m fine.”

But when the blonde excitedly takes her hand ten minutes later and cheerily explains that they’re playing her song now during the first verses of “She’s casual”, it falls like scales from Marina’s eyes. It’s clear as daylight now why Carla behaved so weird lately. And honestly, she feels a little bad for not noticing it earlier.

--

“Wait wait wait,” Samuel stops her hands from unfastening his belt. “We can’t do this here.”

She looks up at him, breathless, surprised. As if it were big news to her that they can’t just hook up in the backyard of Christian’s bar.

“Why? No one’s here.”

The mixture of reproach and eagerness in her voice is kind of cute, Samuel thinks. He cups her cheeks and places a soft kiss onto her lips, chuckles when she tries to deepen it immediately.

“I mean it,” he breaks away from her. “They smoke here all the time, it’s actually surprising no one’s caught us in the last ten minutes.”

She puffs out a small breath as she surrenders, shoulders slumping down. “You’re prude.”

“I’m prude?” Samuel laughs, his hands now on her shoulders while squeezing them softly. “I had sex with you at Marina’s party, in our garage, in your car, at your workplace, twice. We did it in that club toilet, I even fingered you in the freaking cinema!” Carla bites her lip as she thinks about how he snuck his hand up her skirt in the last row, twenty minutes into some boring movie. That was hot.

“But we never did it outside,” she pouts, although she realistically knows that he’s probably right, this is a bad idea.

They leave it at another kiss before heading back inside to let the night die away without any thrilling events. Samuel’s stress level is already high enough anyway, his stage fright doesn’t seem to decrease from gig to gig. He asks himself if it’ll ever go away, because if it won’t, he’ll not be able to do this for much longer before suffering some serious heart disease. Handling Carla on top is just adding fuel into it.

But he wouldn’t want to change it for the world, wouldn’t want to changer her for the world. She’s fun, open-minded, adventurous. She’s everything he lacks, and she’s crazy about him.  He’s got everything he could wish for, doesn’t he?

“Man, you’re living the dream,” Christian confirms his thoughts later that night, when the girls are already gone and Samuel, Nano and Omar are sitting at the counter, being the last guests. “No obligations, no fights, no drama. Just sex. It’s the best thing that can happen to you, and if that wasn’t enough, you’re having Carla for that. Carla,” he shakes his head while drying off a beer glass, then turns to Nano and Omar. “I mean who did he sell his soul to to make that happen?”

They all laugh at Christian’s dramatic tone, though both Nano and Samuel aren’t in the mood for laughing. It isn’t as funny as their friend makes it seem to be.

“I mean, every time I try that,” Christian gesticulates, the dry cloth casually thrown over his shoulder now, “every time I try to initiate that kind of thing, it works for two weeks and then they’re all like ,will you join my grandmother’s birthday on Sunday?’ or ,do you want to grab some icecream?’” his hilarious imitation of girl voices makes them crack up even more. “And all I can think is ,NO! I just want to fuck!’ What’s so hard to understand about that?’”

“Must be really hard that these girls actually want to spend time with you as a person and not only use you for sex,” Samuel’s tone is kind of serious, but then a small smirk creeps onto his face. “I wonder how bad the sex must be that they prefer to hear you talk.”

Christian flips him off, then throws the dry cloth at Samuel with laughter. “Shut up or you’ll get house ban!”

--

Carla instantly knows that something’s off when she enters Marina’s kitchen and doesn’t find it empty, but with Nano already sitting at the table. His elbows are resting on the wood and he’s got his hands folded in front of his mouth. When he registers Carla in the door, he turns around greets her quietly.

Before Carla knows it, she’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea in hand, facing the couple opposite her. Marina tries some small talk, but really, there isn’t something Carla could care less about than the unusual heat that’s settled on Madrid during the last days.

The first week of May has been hot, even for Madrid, and yes, it probably is because of climate change, and of course they should try to take the metro more often and reduce their amounts of flights, and yeah, Carla knows its important and all, but –

“Marina just tell me what’s going on.”

She’s straightforward, serious, cold. Her defense is up, but judging by Marina’s behavior it has all reasons to. The last time she sat her down like this and tried some uptight light talk instead of of deep-diving into intimate conversational topics way too fast like she usually does, Marina carefully explained that she’s got a suspicion on how Carla’s dealing with everything going on in her life without fully breaking apart. Because that’s what the biggest mystery has been to Marina ever since: how her friend could still be loyal towards her family after everything they’d done to her, how she was able to survive in a relationship that was nothing more than an illusion, how she hadn’t gone completely nuts after years of neglect and abuse and lies.

It doesn’t have to be told twice that Carla was everything but amused when Marina confronted her with the suspicion she had, namely that the blonde suffers from nothing less than the so-called “Stockholm Syndrome”.

“It’s usually observed in victims of kidnapping, they sympathize or even fall in love with their kidnapper for lack of any other social contacts. It’s basically a survival mechanism”, Marina tried to explain as sensitive as possible back then. “Your situation isn’t as dramatic of course, but I think it’s the same mechanism. And that’s okay, Carla, we’ll get you help, we’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

But the blonde didn’t want help, didn’t want to get out of there, after her friend had basically told her she had no friends and that the feelings she finally thought to develop for her boyfriend were nothing but a survival mechanism. Because that’s what she’d told Marina just days before: that she thought it had finally happened, four years into her relationship. That she finally began to have real feelings for Yeray.

A few weeks later she wasn’t so sure with that anymore, partly because she knew of the existence of that freaking syndrome now and partly because she realized she had no idea how it felt like: to be in love. At that point she decided to accept that she’d probably never find out, and simply went on with her life like before, but with one exception: she was over the whole love topic once and for all. She simply decided to not think about feelings or love anymore. They shouldn’t control her life any longer.

And now that she sits here, facing an awkward Marina and her boyfriend, she senses that the tea she’d been invited to is nothing less than an intervention.

“You and Samuel need to stop seeing each other”, Nano answers before Marina can beat around the bush any longer.

It shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does. She tightens the grip around her mug, her eyes flicker down for a second, then she meets his stern gaze, lips raising ever so slightly. “And since when is that part of your business? That’s something between me and him.”

“You said you would back off when things go too far”, Marina cuts in. She sounds nearly pleading.

“I said I’d back off when I notice him getting weird, and I haven’t yet”, she shrugs, then adds provocatively “he fucks me like on the first day.”

Nano clenches his jaw. “He’s not acting weird? He wrote a fucking song about you, Carla!” A second later he holds his phone right under her nose to show her the lyrics.

“I think I’ve been looking for you all my life”, Nano quotes as she reads along, “And you ask me what I’ve been doing with my time, I’ve been searching for you, baby.”

“And?”

“What and? Does that sound like a normal thing to say about your fuckbuddy?” His voice is louder now. Marina strokes his bicep in a soothing but warning manner.

“Well, it’s a song, of course it has to exaggerate”, Carla hisses. “Otherwise it would be plain and boring. No one wants to know what goes on in your life for real, people want drama.”

“Do you know Samuel at all?” Nano stares at her heatedly. “When he says or writes something, he means it. You can’t just fuck around with him like this, he isn’t made for that.”

“Well he’s pretty good at it considering he isn’t made for it,” she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “And he’s a grown man, he doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“Okay, you don’t care, we get it,” Marina’s tone is considerably sharper now. “But what about you then, hm? Maybe you can deceive him, but you can’t deceive me. Do you really think I haven’t noticed what’s going on with you? That you start to fall for him?”

The disbelieving laughter dies in Carla’s throat when she realizes Marina isn’t joking. She and feelings? For Samuel? Now that goes too far.

“That’s what you believe?” she asks in angry amusement, gaze alternating between Marina’s and Nano’s stern faces. “That I have feelings for him? That’s ridiculous.”

She gets up from her seat. “Pathetic how you apparently have nothing better to do than snoop around in my business. Get a life, fucking shit.”

“Do you really think I don’t have problems of my own?” Marina follows Carla to the door while Nano already checked out to have a cigarette on the balcony, not too keen about being involved in their bitchfight. “I just want to help you, Carla. That’s what friends do.”

“You have problems?! What kind? That your parents stop financing your studies after eight years? That your roommate doesn’t keep the cleaning plan? That the organic avocados are sold out in your supermarket?”

Marina considers throwing Carla out of her apartment with a loud fuck you, but then she figures that the confession she’s about to make is probably going to be more effective in showing Carla how much of an asshole she’s being. She plans on saying it in a firm tone, but it comes out quiet and insecure.

“I’m pregnant.”

If they weren’t in the middle of a fight, Marina would’ve laughed at Carla’s expression. Her eyes widen so much it looks like they’re going to fall out, gaze ticking between Marina’s stomach and face. “You’re…having…a…baby?”

Are they already in an age in which one congratulates on a pregnancy? Because Carla knows that if it happened to her, congratulations would be the last thing she wanted.

Marina nods, not able to hide a reserved smile while her hand automatically grazes her stomach. “It wasn’t planned…of course it wasn’t…but I’ll have it anyway. It’s not like I’m sixteen and pregnant, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” Carla whispers and pulls her friend into a tight hug. “I’m sorry for what I said, really. I didn’t mean it, okay? I was just angry, I’m so sorry.”

Marina chuckles over the amount of sorrys. “I know,” she whispers back. “Its okay.”

“And congratulations on your baby,” Carla backs off to look into Marina’s eyes with a soft smile. „You’ll be a great mum. A chaotic one maybe, but great.”

--

Carla can’t stop thinking about the baby the following days. Not only because she realizes that they’re in fact not sixteen anymore and slowly get into an age in which having a baby doesn’t mean a total catastrophe, but also because she knows that things between her and Marina will change drastically once the baby is born. She doesn’t want to sound selfish, but sharing her best friend with another human next to Nano is going to be quite hard for her. And watching them become a small family will be, too. As long as Nano is taking his part in all this seriously. Though Marina secured her that he’s really happy and can’t wait for the baby, Carla still worries. What if he leaves her? What if it’ll get too much for him? Is he even capable of being a responsible parent?

And next to that, Carla worries about another thing: is she capable of being a responsible godmother? Because that’s what Marina asked her to be, the godmother of her baby. She couldn’t say no, of course. But the thought of being a godmother to an actual human and having to care for it if anything ever happens to Marina and Nano scares the shit out of her. Her fright only manifested when she caught herself staring at the windows of a shop for baby utensils and realized she has no idea on how to care for a baby except of buying all kinds of things for it. And she’s aware that showing affection by buying tailored rompers or socks with tiny bowties or designer nursing bottles won’t be enough to make a small human happy. She has personal experience after all.

But despite thinking about Marina and Nano and the baby a lot, there’s one thing she manages to prominently ignore: namely the conversation they had before Marina told her that she’s pregnant. Not that she thinks the situation requires her to take action. Samuel is in this as much as she is, and he could back off whenever he senses things going into the wrong direction, too. He knows that developing feelings simply isn’t allowed in that friends-with-benefits-relationship they’ve got going on. They talked about it, and they even invented rules: no excessive cuddling, not too much talking, no staying overnight. To be fair, number one and two are already broken, and number three is going to be broken in a few hours. Okay, maybe the situation does require her to take action. But not right now. Right now, she can only think of how Yeray is about to leave for some business meetings in Barcelona, which results in her being completely free for the next 24 hours.

She begins to pack her bag as soon as his hideous black and yellow car rolls down the driveway. She can’t miss the one-time opportunity of staying over at Samuel’s, the opportunity of having finest sex for a whole night. A shiver runs through her body only thinking about it.

But then everything comes differently.

“Where are we going?” Carla asks as Samuel drags her down the stairs again, away from his apartment. “I thought I can stay overnight?”

“Patience,” he just smirks when they leave the building. She doesn’t have to be that patient, though. Its pretty clear where this is going as soon as he leads her into the backyard.

“We’re going to sleep in there? Here??”

Samuel chuckles. “There’s something fascinating about camping vans, you know? They have these things called wheels,” he points at the black tyres, “they enable you to go anywhere you want.”

She slaps his bicep with a playful “shut up”, and then they’re already inside the van and out on the road.

“Where are we even going?” Carla asks after a few minutes.

“Barcelona.” Samuel breaks into a dumb grin at Carla’s shocked expression. “Just kidding. It’s a surprise, okay? Be patient.”

Somewhere along the way she falls asleep. Its Friday afternoon, and the exhaustion of a week full of working weighs down on her. Additionally, she didn’t get much sleep lately, because the baby-news only poured oil on the fire of her late-night overthinking sessions.

She wakes up when the van comes to halt. Her first glance goes to Samuel who smiles at her from the driver’s seat, her second glance goes to her watch. Its six pm. already. They’ve been on the road for a good three hours.

The first thing she registers while getting out of the van is a fair amount of wind, accompanied by a familiar salty smell. When she walks around the van and meets Samuel on the other side, the assumption she had proves to be true.

She stands there dumbstruck for a minute or two, the endless sight of cobalt-blue water and the gentle murmur of waves completely hypnotizing her. She begins to look around slowly when she comes out of her trance, registering that they’re standing on some sort of abandoned parking lot on top of a cliff. The lot’s rather small and surrounded by trees, the only way in or out being a small bumpy road. And there’s another thing catching her sight: a stairway caved into the dark-grey rocks beneath them, creating a path all the way down to a small, stony bay.

“Why didn’t you tell me to bring a bikini?” she mutters, finally looking at Samuel.

He shrugs with a smile. “Would’ve destroyed the surprise, or?”

And on top of that, Samuel didn’t expect that Carla actually wanted to go in. The heat that’s been spreading across the country for the last week slowly decreased again, and by now the temperatures were back around the average twenty degrees, which wasn’t the perfect weather for a bath in the sea. And to be honest, Carla didn’t seem like the girl to him that would climb down rocks and strip down her designer clothes to go for a skinny dip in the buzzing sea, but what can he say, he’s been wrong. Because that’s the exact thing she does.

He’s not even down the stairs when she’s already halfway in, excitedly telling him how cold the water is, letting out a squeal when a wave swallows her up to the stomach. Samuel tiptoes over the small rocks and wonders how she made it into the ocean so fast, relieved when he finally reaches the water and the uncomfortable pressure beneath his feet subsides. His skin is covered with goosebumps when he reaches Carla who swims a few meters away, golden-brown hair wet and slicked back because one wave already crashed over her head. For a second he’s afraid the sea might be too wild to swim in and tries to remember if there were any warning signs, but when Carla swims into his sight and looks at him with bright eyes he forgets everything around them.

The warm sunlight creates a shiny halo around her head and reflects back on the water surface, making it shimmer in the most beautiful way. The rosy and orange colors that mix up with the sky’s light blue tone gently introduce the end of day, and when Samuel spots the barely-seeable crescent of a silver moon above their heads, he points up for Carla to see. She smiles and turns back to him, trying to steady her balance with quick arm movements when she leans in and meets his lips for a clumsy kiss. His lips taste salty, and when a forceful wave brings them out of balance and their teeth clash together for a second, he lets out a small chuckle and her heart skips a beat.

They remain in the water until their fingertips are spongy and their lips begin to get blue, too busy splashing around, dunking each other and meeting for conciliatory kisses in between to register anything else. Carla feels her teeth clatter at some point, and while Samuel grants her a worried glance, she couldn’t care less. She’d rather freeze to death or drown than to get out again. Its somehow ironic that despite her body’s warning signs, she feels more alive than ever before in this very moment.  

Samuel asks her to get out when his worries take overhand, and Carla finally complies when she feels her right foot cramp with coldness. She’s standing in the van wrapped in a towel while she waits for Samuel to finish his shower, whole body shivering. They agreed that he can go in first so she doesn’t use up all the water in the van’s tank (very funny) and she can take her time while he’s preparing dinner (okay, that’s a fair point).

But when she gets out of the shower again, dressed in black leggings and a grey hoodie that doesn’t exactly belong to herself, Samuel’s nowhere near the small stove that’s inside the van.

“What are you…,” she trails off when she finds him outside, because its obvious what he’s doing. “You know we could just use the stove, don’t you?”

He playfully rolls his eyes, turning around from where he set up a few logs and one of those three-legged cooking pots for campfires. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, but okay, then we’ll use the stove.”

She laughs and hugs him from the side at his fake-offended tone, making him wrap his arm around her and kiss her hairline.

She has to give him some credit for all the preparation he’s done. She didn’t expect him to be the most organized person, so it’s a pleasant surprise when he grabs a container of precooked noodles from the fridge and pours them into the cooking pot over the fire, casually explaining that they only need to warm up and are ready in less than ten minutes.

“Who needs cheap microwaves when you have campfires,” he smiles when he hands her a plate of slightly burned noodles. She’s perched up on a sleeping mat with a pillow beneath her butt and a can of beer next to her, and she somehow feels like a gypsy. She also feels free.

Their eating is disrupted by kisses more than once, but at some point they manage to empty their plates, noodles already cold again. Samuel hands Carla a blanket when it starts to get chilly, and when he sits down again, she throws it over their shoulders and leans into Samuel’s warm body with a content hum. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the flames flicker and release glowing sparks into the deep blue night sky every now and then, accompanied by a soothing crackle as the flames eat their way through the wood.

Carla’s body stiffens when she suddenly realizes that she hasn’t even thought about the real purpose of their meeting for the last hours, and that not thinking about fucking your fuckbuddy isn’t exactly good in terms of maintaining a relationship that’s based on fucking.

She hasn’t even thought about it when they were swimming in the sea. Naked. All she could think about was how alive it made her feel, how alive he made her feel, and how beautiful he was while splashing around, how her heart felt like it was about to burst every time she heard his laughter. And then the conversation she successfully repressed the entire time creeps into her thoughts again. What if Marina’s been right? What if she does have feelings for –

Samuel turns his head as if he registers her racing thoughts. “Everything alright?”

“Do you love me?” she blurts out abruptly. Shit.

Samuel laughs in disbelief. “Love? You? You mean if I –?”

He shifts in his seat and takes his arm off her shoulder, squirming under her gaze. “No! We only–,” he coughs, “I– I mean we are fuckbuddies, no? Only meet to have sex, its cool, nothing big. Casual and all.”

“Yeah, you’re right… that’s what we do,” she feels her eyes unfocus as she fixates a random point on his sweater while Samuel gulps down a large swig of beer.

They simultaneously decide to do honor to the purpose of their meeting, lips crashing together needily while she finds her way into his lap. They make out and grind for a while until Carla has enough and gets rid of the annoying layer of clothes between them, then lays down on the sleeping mat so Samuel can settle above her, the blanket shielding their bare skin from the chilly night air.

She feels her sight get blurry when he enters her in a painfully slow motion, the fluttery feeling in her stomach and the sight of him above her simply overwhelming. The flames illuminate his face in endless shades of red and orange, the colors reminding her of sangria and toffee apples, of chilis and roses, of lava or that Chanel lipstick she owns, of strawberries and blood, of her favorite red wine and love.

Their movements are slower than usual. They enjoy that they can actually take their time now and are in no rush, and maybe their prior bath and beer consume makes them feel a bit lazy, too. She bites her lip when he comes up from sucking her nipples with his mouth all red and swollen while the flames next to them only underline the heat in his gaze. She hooks her feet around his ass and lets out a low moan when he lets her push him in even deeper.

Samuel feels sweat built up on his back while he watches Carla squirm beneath him. He lets out a grunt and sinks onto his elbows when her walls contract around him and massage his dick in the nicest way possible, his lips finding their way to her delicate collar bones where he begins to lick and suck her soft, ivory skin.

He remembers the first time he told her how soft her skin is, and how she told him that a fifty-euro body lotion would probably make even an elephant’s skin soft. Or a shark’s, because she’s seen in a documentary that sharks have millions of tiny barbs on their skin, making it really sharp. He remembers chuckling about her random shark knowledge, and remembers how she slapped his chest for making fun of her.

“What?” she asks with a sultry voice when she notices him smile against her skin.

“Nothing,” he whispers, shaking his head and beginning to pick up the pace of his hips to distract her. It works. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t exactly remember when they got into the van’s bunk, last night’s memories blurry with sex and beer and some more sex. She even fell asleep under the stars at some point, and woke up again to Samuel softly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and whispering something about going to bed.

If she didn’t woke up in the van next to him, smelling like fire and hearing the sound of waves crash onto the cliffs outside, she would’ve thought that everything had been a wonderful dream. She turns around and immediately smiles when she finds Samuel still asleep, mouth slightly parted with soft puffs of breath. She twists a dark curl between her fingers, and he hums when she begins to scratch his scalp lightly, the movement only stopping when she falls asleep again a few minutes later.

--

It’s those memories she lives on until they meet again, the memories of skinny dipping, of having sex under a sky full of stars, of him serenading her with his guitar by the campfire. They never fail to fill her with giddy happiness every time she allows them to invade her thoughts, whether it may be at work, while she’s laying in bed next to Yeray or during tensed up family dinners. They keep her alive, and honestly, she doesn’t know how she managed to survive before, without Samuel distracting her from all the shit going on in her life. Its frightening how she divides her life into before meeting Samuel and after meeting Samuel now. He made the biggest change since Marina’s and her accident, the event after which her fate was sealed. Its also frightening that she feels as if Samuel coming into her life is something equally big, as if her fate is sealed for the second time. Or as if the first seal is broken down.

“We need to talk.”

It’s the second time Carla hears that sentence within the last three days. The first time it had been Yeray, sitting her down and asking if anything’s wrong. She’s successfully coped with the tricky situation of hiding her secret affair by some well-considered acting and some well-considered sex, but the option of sexual distraction definitely isn’t given now. She has to rely on her acting skills, which is fairly challenging when someone drags you into a side street after you just left your affair’s apartment.

“What do you want?” she lifts her chin in an attempt of intimidation. But in reality, it’s her who feels intimidated with her back pressed against the brick wall.

“You need to stop seeing my brother,” Nano’s voice is firm and somehow dangerous. But he wouldn’t hurt her, would he? Samuel said she doesn’t have to worry about Marina. She only hopes that applies to her, too.

“No.”

“That wasn’t a question,” he lowers his voice and grabs her shoulders. “I know you’re probably not used to taking orders, princess, but I’d recommend you to listen to me this time.”

Oh, he’s threatening her? Now that’s something she’s got experience with.

She lets out an arrogant laugh. “Or what? I’m not afraid of you, Nano.”

“So it wouldn’t be a problem if your boyfriend found out about your affair in some mysterious way? I heard he’s a great support to your parent’s company.”

Fucking shit, Marina! Though her pregnancy grants her some kind of protection from Carla’s anger, she can’t help but curse her friend’s candor in this moment.

“You wouldn’t do that,” Carla tries a superior smile, but she knows it must look ridiculous. “And I don’t think you and your brother would be best friends after I told him that you blackmailed me. Besides, don’t you think that making my boyfriend break up with me would heighten the chances of me and Samuel actually starting a thing?”

She sees Nano’s eyes widen. That’s something he hasn’t thought of, huh? What an idiot. But then he gathers himself.

“No, I don’t think it would heighten the chances of you and him getting together, and you know why? Because you’re not interested in him. He’s nothing but a sex toy to you, and you’re nothing but a bored rich girl that wants some distraction before ultimately becoming a bored rich housewife that goes to brunches and manicures and ends up addicted to pain killers or some shit like that.”

Her nostrils flare up with anger. “I work fifty hours a week, I earn in a day what you do in a month! And I won’t end up as a bored rich housewife, you asshole! And Samuel’s not my–“

“Then get your shit together!” her rage seemingly transmitted onto Nano. “Break up with your boyfriend, get out of that forced relationship and build something for yourself! You’re an independent woman, yeah? Then fucking act like it!”

He takes a step back and Carla straightens up, staring at him tight-lipped.

“And you know what? I don’t care if you and Samuel get together, I’d even support it, fucking hell. Because I can’t stand seeing that depressed expression plastered across his face every time you’re not around, okay? Get into a relationship for my sake, get married or whatever, but don’t leave him hanging mid-air! But you won’t do that, because you’re just some wimp that wants attention, and I won’t let you lull him in any longer!”

She clenches her jaw, not knowing what to say. Furthermore she’s sure that there’s nothing left to say that wouldn’t fuel Nano’s anger even more. She knows when a battle is lost, and she knows when discussing something doesn’t make sense anymore. So, she simply turns to walk away, fingers shaking as she roams her bag for the car keys.

“Think about my words!” Nano shouts after her one last time. “I’m serious, I’ll tell him!”

Chapter Text

She does it. She thinks about Nano’s words, just like he told her. She thinks about their conversation for about two days, she lies awake at night and thinks it through, she twists and turns all contingencies, connects all the information she has about Nano with her personal impression of him, does a deep-dive into his character. Would he really bust her if she kept meeting Samuel?

The answer she finds after she puzzled all the pieces together is: No. He may be rude and have criminal tendencies, but he also has a big mouth and isn’t the smartest. And she won’t let someone like him intimidate her. She won’t put up with his shit, definitely not.

One time, when she was aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, one of the pages she follows posted a saying: “Some people only carry their noses so high because the water’s up to their neck”. She remembers thinking bullshit back then, and though she’d never admit it, it kind of fits to her current situation.

And next to her pride is something else that hinders her from ending things with Samuel. She’d like to blame it on their routine or her physical need for proper sexual satisfaction, but if she’s really, really honest, she must admit that she likes him. Even the slightest thought of not seeing him regularly anymore, or worse, never seeing him again makes her feel like someone stabs her in the chest and twists until her heart’s nothing but a red lump. Okay, saying that she likes him is an understatement. But she can’t admit anything other than that. She just can’t.

--

The taste of raspberry ice cream combined with bright sunlight heating up her shoulders and the sound of Marina’s bubbly talking never fails to catapult her right back into her childhood. Back into days where Carla complained about the weekly piano lessons she was forced to take and Marina complained about the daily dose of annoyance and shin kicks she had to endure thanks to her brother, days in which they both complained about their teachers and too much homework or about the dresses their parents forbade them to buy even though they were already twelve and on their way to become teenagers, which made them feel very grown-up at that time.

Now, Carla can only shake her head about her younger self. Had she known in how much trouble she’d get by the time she’s twenty-five, how many problems she’d have to deal with and how many worries tortured her every day, she would’ve laughed at her daily problems back then. Or maybe she would’ve packed her bags and ran away before it was too late, preventing her from ultimately getting stuck in the current situation.

But she didn’t know what life had in store for her when she was twelve, and as she got older, she let everything just happen to her. Not that she had a big choice, though. But sometimes she thinks that a bit more rebellion would’ve maybe saved her some suffering, that she missed her opportunity to intervene before it was too late. Because if there’s anything that she’s learned during her life, it’s that if you don’t deal with your problems when it’s time, they’ll come to bite you in the ass. Always.

“Do you really want me to be the baby’s godmother?”

Marina gives her an odd look from where she’s walking beside Carla as they stroll around one of Madrid’s shopping streets. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want it, huh?”

Carla stares at her cone and quickly licks away a droplet of ice cream before it can fall onto her hand, then shrugs. “Its just that it should be someone both parents get along with, and I don’t think that Nano likes me to be honest.”

“Why do you think that?”

Carla gives Marina a look that says “seriously?”. Though she hasn’t told her friend about the blackmailing story yet, his antipathy towards her is unmissable.

“Okay look,” the redhead begins to explain with a soft voice. “I know that you and him had some difficulties at first, and I know that he’s not the most sociable person, but he’s got nothing against you, you know? He just tries to protect his brother, he’d act like this towards every other woman having a secret affair with Samuel. It’s nothing personal.”

She suppresses a bitter chuckle. If Marina knew what Nano said to her a few days ago, she’d know better. “That whole thing is so childish. Why doesn’t he talk to Samuel and tells him to end everything?”

The look Marina gives Carla isn’t hard to decipher. Oh. At least Samuel’s as stubborn as her. She feels her heart jump. Being on the same side as him feels good.

“Do you think Nano would…do anything to make Samuel and me stop seeing each other?”

Marina furrows her brows. “What do you mean with that?”

Okay, she’s clueless. That’s good, or? At least they didn’t plan this together, at least her friend isn’t in it. “Uhm I don’t know…It just came to my mind. He sounded so angry and I thought maybe he’d tell…Marina?”

Carla turns around when she finds the space to her right empty. She scans the street for a second only to find her friend bent over some bushes at a corner. “Shit, sorry, I thought I needed to throw up,” Marina excuses, walking towards Carla a minute later.

“Maybe three balls of ice cream were a bit too much. But I just can’t control it, one second I’m hungry as hell and the next I feel like puking my guts out. Being pregnant is no walk in the park, I tell you. But what did you want to say?”

The blonde gives her friend an empathetic smile and glances down to where she’s got one hand placed on her stomach even though it’s still flat. “Oh, its nothing…I don’t even know what I wanted to say anymore.”

Carla silently concludes that if there’s anything Marina doesn’t need right now, its additional stress by finding out that her boyfriend is blackmailing her best friend. Furthermore, Carla really doesn’t want to provoke a fight between the pair just because of her own selfish needs. They’re having a baby, for god’s sake. What’s a little blackmailing in comparison to a new life emerging inside her best friend’s stomach? She has to handle it herself. It’ll be better that way.

--

Carla suddenly decides that her and Samuel need to be more discreet. It somehow takes Samuel by surprise, considering she would literally have him anyplace at any time (except for her own house) in the past months. But now she doesn’t seem all too convinced of their messy meeting concept anymore. Samuel fully realizes it as he looks up from his phone when Google Maps tells him he’s reached his destination and finds himself in front of a five-star hotel.

The hotel lobby is covered in marble and decorated with lush flower bouquets in tall golden vases. Everything about the interior design screams luxury, and Samuel realizes once more that this is just so different from what he’s used to. He can’t help but wonder if it looks similar at Carla’s home, he’s never seen it from inside after all.

His steps are hesitant and kind of careful when he walks up to the counter, as if he’s afraid the marble could crumble beneath his soles any second. The woman raises an eyebrow in silent judgement when Samuel asks for Miss Carla Rosòn’s room, probably because the computer system shows that the Royal Suite is only booked for one night.

She’s in a red wine-colored satin dress when she opens the door for him, biting her lip with a smirk. She lets him in and Samuel finds himself in a room furnished far more tasteful than the striking interior design in the lobby downstairs, elegant brown and cream colors mixed within the walls and carpet, with matching satin curtains and bed linen. Carla’s dress contrasts the overcast shades in the best way possible, and he’s not really sure if he wants her to take it off yet.

“A hotel room then?” Samuel looks around one last time before his eyes fall onto her. “Very creative.”

“Its no real secret love affair if you haven’t had sex in a hotel room at least once, no?” She wraps her arms around his neck. Samuel’s gaze ticks down for a second and only now he sees that she’s barefoot, twisting her right foot in the fluffy carpet as she waits for an answer.

Samuel softly presses his lips onto hers, then nods down at her feet. “Feeling already at home here?”

“I do when you’re around.”

The way she says it is flirty, yet there’s something else flashing across her features, something that Samuel has already noticed before but never had the courage to bring up. Its clear that they’re in dangerous territory already, just like the last couple of times they met. He doesn’t know when the change came, when they started to compliment each other or throw cheesy one-liners into each other’s faces, when Carla began telling him she doesn’t want to go home after their occasional hookups, when Samuel got the urge to write songs for and about her, when they slid into the state of loving touches and soft kisses and everything between them began to feel perfectly aligned.

Samuel feels frustration well up beneath the layers of love and pure joy, and decides that answering her with words isn't an option because every sentence coming to his mind is a manifestation of the seemingly endless love he feels for her. And telling Carla that he's in love with her would, well, make things even more complicated.

Then, something inside him snaps and he presses his lips onto hers roughly and without warning. Carla doesn’t even seem surprised, quickly accustoming to his movements, the only indicator of surprise might being that she bites his lip as if to scold him for taking her by storm. He doesn’t mind, though, just slides his tongue into her mouth while cupping her ass. The satin feels nice beneath his fingers, but nothing can beat the softness of her skin, so he has her dress gone in no time.

They land on the bed somewhere in the process of undressing, their needy kisses not making it very effective. Carla giggles when she fails to strip Samuel out of his jeans, and he wiggles his hips to shrug it off. Her eyes fall onto the bulge in his briefs then, gaze dark and lustful as she begins to palm and massage his dick. She bites her lip when a small dark spot of precum emerges on the grey fabric, proving the desire he feels. She loves it when he’s at her mercy like this, sprawled out on his back and eyes tightly shut. Not only because she enjoys to see the effects she has on him or likes the power rush, but because he simply looks so beautiful.

“Come here,” he whispers then, his arms reaching up to make her lay in his embrace. His hand finds its way into her lacy thong, making him moan when he feels her wetness. He wastes no time in pumping two fingers inside her, and though the way he skillfully curls them up against her sweet spot and this twist-thing he does feel really nice, she’s quickly frustrated by the lack of dick inside her.

“I need you,” she groans while pulling on his briefs in frustration, and again Samuel registers the bittersweet undertone of truth beneath her words.

He can’t help but answer her this time, mostly because the way his dick is aligned at her hot, wet entrance makes it really hard for him to think.

“I need you, too.”

He’s determined to show her how much he does when he fucks her just how she likes it, a little rough, a little passionate and a little loving (or very much loving).

Samuel knows she’s close when she breathes his name weakly, whole body shivering underneath him. He picks up speed and goes a little deeper, making her claw her nails into the skin of his shoulders. With lack of sexual ecstasy it’d probably hurt, but right now the pain only feels sweet to him.

They remain clutching onto one another for a few minutes after their orgasms, naked and panting and on top of each other. Carla hisses when Samuel finally pulls out his dick, every nerve of her body oversensitive. “Shit…that was great.”

They decide to go for a shower, but when Carla notices how Samuel’s gaze lingers onto the huge bathtub she suggests to take a bath. The enthusiastic glance in his eyes as he tells her that he can’t remember of ever having taken a bath before since he’s always lived in apartments that had showers only makes her realize once more just how privileged she is. His excitement is cute, and probably also responsible for him pouring the whole bottle of the hotel’s bath foam into the water.

Carla’s eyebrows fly up in surprise when she enters the bathroom again to find the bathtub under a mountain of foam. It looks ridiculous.

“I didn’t know how much you’re supposed to put in there,” he shrugs, standing behind her as he looks at the consequences of his mishap.

“And then you decided to…” Carla picks up the bath foam container and shakes it only to find it empty, “pour the whole bottle into the water?”

He shrugs again, more sheepish this time, and then they burst out laughing.

They somehow make it into the tub without flooding the whole bathroom, and Carla has to give Samuel some credit for at least getting the temperature right, even if the water’s a little too hot for his taste. She distracts him by putting foam onto his head and forming a white beard around his chin, laughing when he pulls funny faces and does the same to her.

It feels peaceful to be with him like this, all their worries and sorrows shut down for a while.

“I wish I could hide here with you forever,” Carla whispers with her back against his chest, absentmindedly running her fingertips over the water surface. Samuel squeezes his arms around her, and she feels his breath tickle her ear as he tucks her in even tighter. Her mentions of not wanting to go home twist his insides every time. Not only because he’s kind of jealous that another man is allowed to live with her and be her boyfriend, but because her voice sounds so small and sad whenever she brings this up. She’s suffering, and it breaks his heart.

And he really, really wants to tell her that they can hide forever, maybe not in this hotel room but in his apartment or the van, that she doesn’t have to go home, that she can stay with him, but he also knows its not realistic. From what she told him so far it doesn’t look like she’s got much of a choice, at least as long as she doesn’t want her life to completely fall apart.

“If you ever…you know, break up with him or something, or decide to leave everything behind you, just know I’ll be there right away.”

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to do this.” She turns around with a sad smile. “I honestly don’t deserve it.”

Before he can object, she goes on: “I’m a liar, a cheater. I use you to have fun and escape my boring life like some sort of entertainment, I–“

“Stop this.” Samuel sits up a little, taking her with him. The bathtub really isn’t the place for this kind of conversation, but now there’s no going back.

Carla looks at him with big eyes. “Why? Its true. That’s how it is, and that’s how it’ll ever be. It’s the only kind of life I’ll ever lead.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve already told you that there’s always another solution, a way out. And I’ll support you, you could sleep at my place for a while, I could clear one or two drawers for you…”

He mirrors her sad smile now, kind of realizing how stupid and utopic his suggestion sounds. Carla won’t lack one or two drawers if she really pulled a breakup off. She won’t only lack a place to live, but also a job and her family if the spare information she gave him about her situation is true. Samuel has tried to get into the whole topic once or twice, but she’s a master of avoiding it.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay?” She gives him a soft kiss onto the cheek, then moves to his lips. As said, master of avoiding. “Lets just enjoy the little time we’ve got left.”

The little time they’ve got left. Carla tries to push the words away that just left her mouth, originally referring to their night in the hotel and not their whole situation, but they still made her realize once more that this can’t go on forever. She wants to hold on to Samuel so badly, but she also registers that the lines between friends with benefits and friends that are in love blur further and further every time they meet, and being fucking blackmailed by his brother doesn’t make things exactly easier as well.

She could just tell Samuel of course, but she doesn’t think it’d have much of an effect on Nano and would probably only lead to a fight between the brothers. And just because her family is fucked up, she doesn’t have to be the cause for other families to break, right?

So she holds on to her decision of not letting that pathetic petty criminal intimidate her.

--

Carla’s attempt of being discreet turns out as nothing more than that: an attempt. Because it doesn’t work. She realizes it when Nano catches her again while she walks towards her car after work, just a few days after she and Samuel were in the hotel.

“What?” She turns around annoyed, the strap of her bag resting in the crook of her arm as she holds the car keys.

“I’m sorry,” Nano shakes his head. His expression looks genuinely excusing. “But you left me no other choice. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out that the thing between you and Samuel is still going?”

Her pulse quickens, she swallows heavily. Of course she hasn’t thought that she could hide it from him. But she also hasn’t thought Nano would put his threats into practice. Or not so soon, at least. “What do you mean with that? What did you do, Nano?”

“What? You mean he didn’t break up with you?” Confusion flickers over his features.

“No…?” The word leaves her mouth slowly. She’s quiet for a moment, then feels panic arise in her chest. Her next words aren’t more than a whisper. “You told him?”

“Not personally. I threw a letter into your mailbox.”

“You fucking idiot! When?”

“Monday.”

She does the math and quickly comes to following conclusion: if the letter had been in the mail on Monday, Yeray would’ve found it by now. He checks the mailbox every morning, and today is Friday already. And he isn’t that good of an actor to hide news like these from her, is he? He can’t just ignore finding out that his girlfriend of eight years has had an affair for the last four months, that she cheats on him and lies to his face. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and he wouldn’t be able to fool her. But strangely enough everything has been normal between them, the whole week has been normal. It makes no sense.

“Well, looks like you’ve got the wrong mailbox then,” she tries to shrug it off as casual as possible. But then something hits her. “Where did you even get the address that’s allegedly mine?”  

“I googled it. Wasn’t hard to find.”

“But our address isn’t on the internet.” An uneasy feeling creeps up on her. Yeray had always made sure they kept it private, he’s a bit paranoid about robbers. She speaks against the lump in her throat. “Nano, where did you find the address?”

“On the company’s homepage. It was the first google result. I found two addresses, this one,” he points to the building behind them, “and a private one. That’s yours, isn’t it? That sand-colored mansion up on that hill…?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Carla feels her blood go cold. The keys jingle quietly as her hand begins to shake. "That's not my house, you idiot."

“Shit, I’ve got the wrong address?” Nano palms his face with a desperate laugh, then kicks a stone away with his foot. “Fuck! That can’t be! But wait– whose address is it then?”

--

“Your father has called me.”

These words never failed to freak her out. But coming from Yeray under the given circumstances, freaking her out is an understatement for what they do to her.

She’s screwed. She’s absolutely screwed.

“Is everything alright?” Yeray’s smile fades as he watches her take off her shoes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uhm…I’m just tired. And have a headache.” And she’s confused. Yeray doesn’t look angry at all. He looks worried, even.

“Do you want to take a bath? I could…” he gestures upstairs, words quieting down when she shakes her head and lets out a shaky “no thanks” with the most forced smile she’s ever smiled. And that should say something.

“Anyways, he told me that we’re going to a restaurant next Tuesday instead of eating at their place,” Yeray explains.

She furrows her brows. Act normal. “Oh really? Why?”

“I don’t know. He only told me to dress up, it’s gonna be fancy.”

“Hey…,” Yeray whispers when he lays down next to her an hour later. She’s gone straight to bed when she got home, trying to calm herself down and digest the shock somehow. Luckily, Yeray didn’t pester her with questions and granted her a bit of time alone until he came upstairs.

“Hi…” she whispers back, barely able to speak. She’s never been more grateful for a dark room, preventing Yeray from seeing the desperate tears glistening in her eyes, on the verge of spilling.

Desperateness is the only thing she can feel right now, to an extend where she’d even describe it as pure anxiety. The only thing worse than Yeray finding out about her affair is her parents finding out about her affair. And the fact that she hasn’t heard anything from them yet is even more unsettling. Why haven’t they confronted her with it already? Why did they act completely normal at their family dinner this week? Its confusing and frightening at the same time. Because Carla knows her parents, and she knows that this won’t stay without consequences. That something will happen is as certain as an amen arriving at the end of a prayer. Or maybe something already is happening and she’s completely clueless. Maybe they only wait to overpower her when she’s least expecting it.

“I love you so much, do you know that?” Yeray’s words make her snap out of her thoughts. She hums ever so quietly, using all her strength to not break into sobs as he cradles her in his arms and kisses her forehead. “Nothing makes me happier than you.”

--

I miss you.

Samuel stares at his phone screen. Can he send that text to her? Or is it an inappropriate thing to tell your fuckbuddy? He’s not supposed to miss her, no? He’s supposed to miss her body. Which he does too, of course. He misses the warmth of her skin on his, misses her curves and the smell of her hair, misses the goosebumps he causes with hot kisses. But even more, he misses her laugh, misses talking to her about nonsense, about everything and nothing, misses the little sound she makes while yawning or the way her freckles move when she crinkles her nose.

And he wants to write her all that, but he can’t. He deletes the text and throws his phone onto his mattress before he lets himself fall onto it, too. Its been almost ten days now since he last saw her, and it makes him feel absolutely miserable. More miserable than it should, probably.

--

When can we meet again?

Carla nearly throws her phone away when she sees his text. She quickly locks the screen and puts it back into her purse. She can’t answer him now, not with Yeray sitting beside her and her parents sitting opposite her.

The text only fuels the panic she already experiences. Why are they even here? They’ve never been to this restaurant before. Its even more expensive and exclusive than the restaurants they usually visit, which she wouldn’t have thought is possible. The furnishing is dark and the light is dim, and the man playing piano in one corner accompanies the low mumble of the guests with a beautiful piece of music. Its nice, but she’d prefer hearing the sound of a guitar right now. And she’d prefer burned noodles over the truffle soup in front of her. The portion’s tiny, but they’ll have another four courses ahead, and Carla’s stomach twists just thinking about it. Not throwing up will be quite a challenge tonight, her nerves lay absolutely blank. Because still nothing has happened, and by now she's nearly hundred percent sure that their mysterious sudden restaurant visit has something to do with her parents receiving Nano's letter eight days ago. 

And the tight, cream-colored dress cutting into stomach doesn’t make it any better. She preferred a different one originally, one that’s a bit more comfortable, but Yeray insisted on her wearing this one until she gave up. She had no energy to fight him today, and he said that he let it tailor for her for this night only. She hasn’t really thought about it until now, but now that she does, its kind of odd. She pushes the thought away fast to not make herself even more insecure, and forces the soup down her throat.

The dinner is a fight. Under normal circumstances she would’ve probably enjoyed it, because it’s special and exotic and overall really tasty, but the sickness she feels gets worse with every bite. At one point she even thinks of throwing up, which probably wouldn’t even attract anyone’s attention judging by the perfectly thin and model-like women all around them. But she quickly rejects the thought. Puking would probably make her feel even more uncomfortable than she already does.  

The funny thing is, that’s not only her who’s got trouble eating. Yeray seems to struggle, too, and she wonders if his eating habits got worse lately. She hasn’t noticed anything, but on the other side she’d been so preoccupied with herself that it wouldn’t wonder her if she’d missed it.

“Everything okay?” she smiles softly. Yeray reciprocates her smile, though the corners of his mouth twitch nervously as he nods.

When she turns to her plate again, she notices her parents exchange looks. Knowing looks, she can’t help but think. It won’t be long until it happens, she senses it. The tension feels electrifying in the most terrifying way when her father smiles and blinks at her slowly as if to assure her that everything’s alright. Her mother’s smile is a bit more tightlipped, only softening when her eyes fall onto Yeray.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he suddenly says, all out of breath. He gets up hastily, pushing his chair back with his legs. Carla lets the cutlery fall onto her plate and stares at him with wide eyes. Its happening. Whatever it is, it’s happening. She braces herself to be screamed at, to be humiliated in front of everyone, braces herself for tears and curses, for an absolute disaster.

And the disaster comes, just not like she expected it.

Because Yeray doesn’t walk away from her. Instead, he turns to her.

“Carla I–” he breathes out shakily and closes his eyes for a second. The first guests begin to turn their heads to their table. “We’ve been together for eight years now, and those years were the best of my life. I’m grateful for every minute I’m allowed to spend with you, and to this day I couldn’t figure out why I deserve you. You’re perfect in every way possible, and for that I want to ask you,” he gets down on one knee and pulls out a small satin box, hands shaking so much it slips through his fingers and onto the ground. All the while Carla just sits there absolutely petrified, numb with shock.

“If you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” he finally gets hold of the box and opens it clumsily, revealing a ring with a diamond so pompous it’ll look absolutely ridiculous on her slender finger. “Will you marry me?”

Time seems to stand still for a moment. She looks down at Yeray, who looks completely rattled, looks at her father who stares back with a mischievous smirk, looks at her mother who gives her a small nod. She glances over to the other tables, all the heads turned to them now, women clutching their hands in awe and men raising their eyebrows in expectation. She sees the waiter who has already prepared a tray of champagne and patiently waits next to their table, sees a man with a freaking camera who apparently had been disguised as a guest. She looks into foreign eyes full of surprise and amusement, and into familiar eyes full of cold-blooded calculation. She feels stomach acid making its way to her gullet, feels cold sweat on her hands and ruthless guilt wrenching her guts. And then she looks into Yeray’s eyes, brown and desperate and hopeful and insecure, and suddenly her tongue moves as if on its own and forms the three letters she already knows will haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Yes.”

--

“Oh hun, if you think you’re excited right now, just wait until the actual marriage.” The tall, brown haired woman looks at Carla with warm eyes after she got out of the toilet stall. The glass of champagne she shared with Yeray and her parents ultimately turned her stomach upside down, causing her to empty its contents into the toilet. But at least she feels a little better now.

“Here.” The older woman holds out a pack of gum and Carla takes one with a small smile.

“I threw up three times on the morning of my wedding day,” she explains while fixing her hair in the mirror. “I’d planned everything down to the last detail. And then I nearly had a mental breakdown when the bakery told me they accidentally used curd instead of mascarpone for our wedding cake. Not that anyone noticed it – I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know?”

Carla nods when the woman turns to her again. “I wanted it to be the best day of my life, but in the end I didn’t enjoy it at all, I was so stressed. Turned out it was all for nothing, anyway.”

“It didn’t end well?” Carla asks carefully, her voice still raspy from throwing up.

The woman lets out a bitter chuckle. “No, not at all. We broke up just six months after our wedding. I really don’t want to discourage you, but the best day of my life was they day I got divorced. Things got really ugly, and when I came out of court, my best friend was already waiting for me with a bottle of champagne. We got drunk and flew to Ibiza for a week, like a reverse honeymoon, you know?” The woman smiles dreamily. “And I took advantage of my regained freedom, if you know what I mean.”

The blonde laughs quietly, it somehow sounds like something Marina and her would do. The thought of her friend makes her frown. She has no idea on how to tell Marina about the engagement. She’ll be anything but amused.

But turns out she doesn’t have to worry about telling her, because when she checks her phone back at the table, she sees that Yeray already took care of it by posting an Instagram story of their intertwined hands, the bling on her finger unmissable, the caption (“wifey #shesaidyes”) and the heart emoji eliminating any remaining doubts. She clenches her jaw in anger when she sees it, realizing she’ll have to endure another stupid nickname from now on, next to “darling” and “babe”. Her inbox nearly explodes after that post, all kinds of people texting her and asking if it’s true, if she’s engaged now. Even people she hasn’t talked to in years contact her, even Lu does. But she can’t bring herself to answer any of the messages and closes the app without any kind of reaction. She won’t answer them, and she definitely won’t share the stupid story. Marina apparently hasn’t seen it until now, which is good, meaning she has some time to gather herself and calm down before having to face an ugly confrontation.

Or not, she realizes when Yeray excuses herself to the toilet and her father immediately takes the chance to talk to her with a stern look.

“I’m glad you made the right decision.” He swivels his wineglass with scrutiny. “It needed some time to convince Yeray to propose to you. He was insecure whether you’d say yes. Weird, isn’t it? He said that things weren’t going well between you two lately, that he feels like you’re drifting apart. That you hang out with Marina a lot, that you stay out late and aren’t accessible sometimes. Makes me wonder if there’s anything you want to tell us?”

Carla balls her hands into fists in her lap. So that had been their plan. She should’ve known.

“I shouldn’t have said yes.” Desperate tears well up in her eyes while her voice breaks. “I don’t love him. And you know that.”

“Well now you’ve still got the chance to undo everything,” he answers with a cold stare. “Your mother and I won’t prevent you from doing it. But just know that a decision against him will also mean a decision against us. Against the wineries, against your job, against your lifestyle. You know that the company’s doing better than ever thanks to Yeray’s support, and losing it would only make us struggle again. So why destroy everything we have built throughout the last years? Why destroy your future, why destroy our future? You’ve got everything you could wish for, and if you weren’t acting so damn ungrateful all the time, you’d maybe be able to notice it. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your role?"

Carla avoids his eyes and looks at her mother in a silent call for help. She doesn’t even flinch.

“That’s what I thought,” Teodoro goes on when his daughter stays silent. “Oh, and before I forget: I recommended Yeray to set up a prenuptial agreement, including an infidelity clause just to make sure. And he seemed pretty attracted to the idea.”

Chapter Text

Emptiness. That’s all Carla feels when she bats her eyes open after the disastrous dinner that took place the night before. Yeray’s already up as always, probably doing his morning work-out in the basement or, when he already finished it, gulping down a perverse mix of protein powder, kale, raw eggs and whatever fruit that makes the whole thing drinkable before heading off to work. Carla doesn’t even let out her occasional morning groan to signal her unwillingness to get up, just rolls around silently and grabs her phone.

24 new messages let alone on Whatsapp, but only two of the chats actually trigger her concern. Samuel and Marina. She hasn’t answered Samuel’s last text yet, and being the patient guy he is he hasn’t bothered her again. Marina on the other hand is everything but patient, the ten messages and six missed calls serve as good evidence.

After maltreating her skin with a burning hot shower and blankly staring into her cup of coffee until it got cold and undrinkable, Carla sighs and presses the green button on her phone. Time to face her fate.

“Tell me that is a fucking joke! Wifey?? Really?!”

The blonde squeezes her eyes at her friends enraged tone. She considers just hanging up again, but that would only prolong her problem. Another sigh leaves her lips, and she begins to pace back and forth in the living room.

“I don’t know what to tell you…I mean what do you want to hear…?”

“God Carla…” Marina rubs her forehead. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

The blonde hugs herself as her lips begin to quiver. “I– I don’t know,” she sniffs. “I didn’t want this, really. But we were in the middle of that restaurant and everyone was staring at me and then I just…”

“This goes too far, Carla. You need to stop it.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” She can’t help but get defensive. All she can do is save herself at least some spark of dignity by not completely breaking down. “Sorry that the little social project you put me through the last eight years didn’t work. But you can’t save me, okay? I really appreciate how you took me along to parties all the years or tried to lead sensitive conversations, but it doesn’t have any sense. No matter how high your efforts, they’re not capable of changing my situation. Please just accept that already okay?”

Marina breathes out heavily. Chances of talking Carla out of it just sank rapidly judging by the tone that took over her last words, weirdly neutral but sharp at the same time. Seems like she has to haul the big guns in.

“Okay, fine. But what about Samuel?”

“What?” Carla whispers, clearly taken off guard. Jackpot.

“Well, what about Samuel? How will things go on between you two now? Does he know about your engagement already?” Silence. “Carla? Does he know? You’re not going to hide it from him, or? Please, you can’t do that.”

Carla bites the insides of her cheeks. She knows Samuel doesn’t follow Yeray on IG, and therefore the chances that he’s seen that story or heard about it from anyone are very low, but there’s also no hundred percent guarantee he hasn’t. Maybe he stalks him secretly. She couldn’t hold it against him. If he had a girlfriend, Carla would definitely watch her stories or at least tell Marina to do it. Maybe she could get hold of Yeray’s phone and do a bit of investigation…

“If you don’t tell him I’ll do it,” Marina snaps at the lack of answer. Nano’s behavior seems to rub off on her, huh?

“Don’t worry.” Carla feels her chest tighten, internally wrestling the desperate, enamored and sensitive girl down that’s nearly taken up her whole personality lately. Its better this way. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll end it.”

--

Breathe in. Hold for 5 seconds. Breathe out. Carla repeats those words in her head over and over again. At least she’s able to control her lungs while everything falls apart around her. She immediately scolds herself for the last thought. Carla Rosón Caleruega doesn’t do self-pity. Maybe the other Carla would, the weak Carla. The one that she’s beaten down and locked up in a dark closet in the depths of her soul, nothing more than a shivering wreck curled up on the floor while cradling itself. At least that’s what she imagines her to look like right now. Or maybe her vivid imagination is the first sign that she’s actually going insane in this very moment. But Carla neither has time nor cares about that weak bitch’s problems anymore and focuses on more important things, like breathing or driving to Samuel’s place without getting into an accident.

Samuel’s features immediately soften when he opens the door for her. A small smile creeps on Carla’s face as if on automatic, but then her gaze falls down and focuses on the tip of her feet as she walks into his apartment. She nearly jumps when the wood squeaks underneath her weight. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to do this. The only thing she wants to do is run, run, run.

“I’ve missed you,” Samuel speaks lowly after closing the door. Shit. Now it’s out.

Carla’s reaction to his confession is as empty as he feared. Her smile looks forced even when he begins to crawl her back the way he knows she likes, now standing next to her in the middle of his apartment. Her muscles stiffen under his touch, and Samuel draws his hand back slowly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” The word leaves her lips far too fast and far too hard. The grip around the strap of her bag tightens so hard the otherwise soft leather feels sharp against her skin. “I mean no, not really.” Samuel blinks at her in confusion. Normally the question marks in his eyes instantly melt her heart, but now she can’t stand his expression. She turns away and steps towards the window. “We need to talk.”

Samuel closes his eyes for a second. He isn’t dumb, okay? He knew this moment would come, that their thing won’t last forever. Its just that he…well, the mere thought of letting her go again feels like several punches in the stomach. Every second.

He watches with furrowed brows when Carla starts to search for something in her bag. Then she turns away from the window, comes to halt one meter in front of him and slams a small object onto the desk to her right. Judging by the clicking sound its something small and metallic, and Samuel holds his breath when she takes her hand away again. A ring? His gaze ticks between the accessory and her face a few times. It looks blank and angry and kind of sad. Then he realizes it’s not just a ring. It’s a ring.

His mouth opens and closes like someone has muted his speaking, then he finally gets something out. “You…are you…does that mean you’re…engaged?” Please let this be a joke. Even if it’d be the cruelest and unfunniest joke ever, but please don’t let this be true.

“Yes.” Carla doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m engaged, and we need to stop this now and for all. I’m sorry. It’d been a nice time and I hope you’ll find someone that makes you happy someday. Someone…”, she blinks a little longer than usual, her cold voice enriched with thickness, “worthy of your love.”

Samuel’s lost all of his ability to think, speak, even move. He’s not even sure his heart’s still beating until Carla’s hand grazes his on her way out. “Wait!” he switches out of his trance and grabs her wrist to spin her around.

Her insides tingle at his touch, and Carla feels her weak alter ego getting up onto her feet again. No, no, no. She can’t let this happen.

“You don’t want this, do you?” Samuel searches her eyes frantically. “You told me you’re only with him for business, for money. That’s not love, Carla. And you shouldn’t marry someone you don’t love, someone you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with. That’s just not right, and it’ll make neither of you happy. I remember you telling me how you don’t want to go home whenever we met and it broke my heart every single time, knowing that you’re forced to live in a place where you don’t want to be. You don’t deserve such a life. You deserve so much more. To be free, to be happy, to be loved for the person you are and not some façade you built up. You are worthy of love, and I don’t only speak for me. You don’t have to be with me, shit, I’m just a waiter that plays in a mediocre successful band and makes even more mediocre meals over camping fires in abandoned parking lots. I know I’m not the type of guy a girl like you searches for, okay? I get that and its fine. I’m okay with it if you don’t want to be with me. Just please don’t be with him.”

That’s the point where you kiss him, Carla thinks. And tell him you love him, too. That he’s everything you ever searched for, that you want nothing more than to be with a waiter/ singer/ mediocre cook even if it means living in a 25 square-meter apartment or a freaking camping van for the rest of your life. That he shouldn’t put himself down and he’s the purest and most loving person you ever met. That you’ll choose him over everyone else anytime and anyplace, hell, even in another universe if necessary, but – but the only thing that leaves Carla’s lips is a bitter laugh.

“God, you really believe in all that crap, don’t you? Love, marriage, being with someone for the rest of your life. Now listen up because I’ve got some big news for you, Samuel: the world out there doesn’t consist out of soft melodies and lyrical gibberish about finding true love or having a soulmate, it doesn’t consist of melodramatic songtexts and endless discussions about lyric interpretation – that shit isn’t relevant in life at any point, okay? I mean how far did it get you until now? Your belief into finding the woman of your dreams or that everything happens for a reason? What is it about good things come to those who wait? All this philosophical nonsense you oh so creative people treat like a fucking bible? It has gotten you nowhere because it doesn’t exist. Love doesn’t exist, fate doesn’t exist. You know who the good things come to? To those who hustle and don’t dwell onto sentimental bullshit. I don’t need your or anyone else’s fucking love, I can take care of myself. But thanks for your concern.” She ribs her hand out of his grip and walks towards his door before he can catch sight of the tears in her eyes.

“Wait!” Carla hears his voice again, this time shaking with tears. She clenches her jaw and turns around.

“What?”

“Here…” Samuel holds out the ring. She stares at it with wide eyes, then rips it out of his hand before her eyes can linger onto his pained expression or the way he clumsily wipes his tears away.

--

Nano hadn’t been aware of what he’ll unleash with his letter, and the last thing he reckoned is that his actions would fall back onto him. But they do. In two respects.

First, there is Marina, falling back into bed after her conversation with Carla. “She actually wants to pull the marriage off. I can’t believe it…” She shakes her head with a deep sigh. “I really thought it’d work this time, that she’d finally get out of that toxic mess.”

Nano hums, unsure of what to say. He’s still shocked about the latest developments. Did Carla’s parents really let that guy marry their daughter, well knowing she’s cheating on him? These rich people are crazier than he ever imagined.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore.” Marina’s voice gets high and shaky. Oh shit. “Its just that I know she’ll be absolutely unhappy with it and I…I can’t watch them completely devastate her and destroy her life. She doesn’t deserve it and –“ a desperate sob escapes her mouth and Nano tries to comfort her by softly rubbing her back.

All in all, she’s crying for half an hour about her friend’s engagement, and Nano would really like to blame her emotional outburst on the pregnancy, but he knows better. Marina’s seriously concerned about Carla’s wellbeing, and the guilt this causes him is anything but pleasant. He just tried to protect his brother, what’s so wrong with that?

Speaking of Samuel: there’s his second problem. Nano really hoped that the engagement may have at least one positive effect, namely showing his brother that his fling with Carla is ultimately over. Nano clings to this thought until he gets to work and realizes Samuel isn’t there. Not a good sign.

He asks his coworker about it while getting a pan out of the cupboard. Antonio only shrugs, not taking his eyes off the onions he’s cutting. “The boss told me he called in sick. Caught a cold or something like this.”

Samuel indeed looks like death when Nano comes to visit him after his shift. Unannounced, of course.

His eyes are puffy and bloodshot, matching the bright red of his nose. Even his hair looks weak, hanging around his head powerlessly instead of sticking out untamable like usual.

Samuel instantly closes the door again when he spots his brother, but Nano’s foot is faster as he blocks it. The younger one gives up without another try and silts back towards his bed where he’d spent the last few hours, making his brother follow him inside.

Nano doesn’t have to ask if this is about her. He’s seen that dull gaze before, breakup all written over his face. And while this isn’t even a real breakup because he and Carla never were in a real relationship after all, Samuel’s appearance is far worse than the times when he mourned actual breakups.

The older one sighs and sits down next to Samuel, who sits there with his hands folded, staring onto the ground. The only indicator that he’s alive is an occasional blink of his eyes. When Nano pulls him into a hug, he whimpers lowly. He’s has always secretly admired the way Samuel displays his feelings. He himself had never been able to, always dealing with his emotions by creating chaos or destroying things instead of enduring or showing them. He thinks its brave how Samuel’s not afraid to show his vulnerable side, but its also really hard to bear when your brother’s sobbing into your shoulder and you know its your fault. But better now than later, or? Things would’ve ended like this one way or another.

--

The sun is brighter than in his memories when Samuel sets foot out of his apartment again after spending two whole days in bed. Well, not only in bed. He also sat at his kitchen table when Nano made him something to eat, and he also showered two times. That makes maybe 46 of the last 48 hours spent in bed. And he would’ve spent another 46 hours there if it weren’t for his lack of a functioning pen. Because like every artist, his creative peak takes place when he’s at his worst, and it would be a shame to waste an opportunity of bringing his darkest thoughts and feelings onto paper and shape them into a song.  

Samuel leaves the supermarket with a pack of pens, a sixpack of beer and a few packs of frozen pizza again. To another two days in bed!

He finishes the first song half past ten at night, the second at four in the morning. He can’t bring himself to actually write the song’s title on the second sheet, so he just leaves it with a “C.”.

--

“I’ve got a new song”, Samuel announces at their next band rehearsal. He looks somewhat humanly again, the only evidence of his heartbroken state are dark rings beneath his eyes. “I’d like to know what you think of it.”

Nano and Omar nod their heads at the notes. A silent agreement of not addressing the elephant that’s in the room. It’s a breakup song. But its okay. If it helps.

The learn it fast, and Nano’s actually surprised at the song’s speed. He expected something way slower and more depressing, thinking of how Samuel looked when he last saw him. But it’s a pleasant surprise knowing that he hasn’t plunged his brother into depression, more so, seemed to have unleashed hidden potential.

“Fuck, that’s going to be a hit at our next concert!” Nano says when they’re finished. “People will love it. Great work, Samu.”

Samuel gives his brother and Omar a small smile when they leave. “Then ‘til Friday. At six in Christian’s bar.”

He stands in the middle of the garage for a moment after they’re gone, then turns around to his guitar again. Practice time isn’t over yet.

--

Everything burns. Her lungs, her feet, the relentless sun on her skin. But Carla doesn’t care, enjoys it actually. She enjoys it until she suddenly doesn’t enjoy it at all anymore, until her heart feels like springing out of her chest and her throat closes with sickness. She comes to halt before her body forces her to, and stems her arm against the nearest tree. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to suck some more air into her lungs, legs shaking with exhaustion. A drop of sweat rolls over her forehead and right into her left eye, making it burn too. Great.

She hears nothing but the chirping of crickets and blood rushing through her ears, and after a minute or so, she looks up again. The motion of her head makes her see stars, but Carla ignores her bodies outcry for water (she doesn’t have something with her right now, anyway) and focuses onto the tree in front of her. Its her tree, the one that’s fallen down and that she comes across during her jogging route every time. She walks towards it with wavering steps and sits down with her back against the trunk, drawing her knees up to her chest. And then she can’t hold them in anymore, the retailed tears and sobs and cries that wanted to escape her for what’s been a week now, and lets everything out, the dead tree the only witness of her misery.

“Everything okay, Miss?”

Carla jumps at the voice and looks up from where her head’s been buried into her knees. An elderly woman stands next to her, a brown small poodle on her leash. Carla nods hurriedly and wipes her cheeks, registering there are no tears on them anymore. How long has she been here?

“Your shoulders are all red,” the woman goes on with a worried look. “You should get out of the sun.”

Carla looks around and realizes she’s actually been sitting in one of the few sunny spots in the forest. How smart. Apparently, her brains the next thing to break, right after her heart. She gets up slowly, steadying herself on the trunk in the process, then gives the woman a soothing smile. “Thanks for your concern, I must’ve fallen asleep.”

The pain in her legs is huge when she starts jogging again after her crying break, but its still nothing compared to the pain her heart’s been enduring the last days, and knowing that’ll probably stay like this forever nearly pulls the rug under her feet away again.

--

Pretending has never been Samuel’s greatest strength. He isn’t good at lying, faking a good mood or putting on an act. More so, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he’s aware of it. It bit him in the ass once or twice, because crying in public simply isn’t accepted when you’re a boy. But since he broke into tears in the middle of class because his brother was in jail once again, he’d always managed to hide it until he got into a safe space. Even when that girl Maya broke up with him when he was 19, which was a great achievement, given it’d been his first breakup.

But Carla seemed to have wrecked him all over again. He realizes that when he waits for a traffic light to turn green and feels sudden tears flood his eyes. Its something that happens throughout the days now, random outbursts of his body he can’t quite attribute to certain situations. It just happens, like it does now, and forces him to pause his daily actions for a minute and gather himself. He therefore misses the green light and has to wait another two minutes. Not that it makes much of a difference, no one’s waiting for him back at home, no one ever does. His sight gets blurry again and he clenches his jaw against the lump in his throat. Not again.

The only thing capable of distracting him from his misery is music. Whether he listens to it or makes it himself, it’s helping him way better than kind words or hugs from his brother or friends ever could. Its there in his darkest and in his brightest moments, makes him connect with other people, lets him forget about everything for a moment. That’s why he looked forward to Friday all week, and now that the day’s finally there, slight nervousness mixes with his anticipation.

Christian told them he sold 196 tickets alone in advance sale, and he expects at least another 50 tickets to be sold at box office. Roughly 250 people is quite a number, and Samuel asks himself how his friend plans to fit them into his small bar all at once. That definitely doesn’t go along with fire safety regulations.

But turns out Christian didn’t plan to fit them into his bar after all. Because the place is nowhere near being prepared for the concert when Samuel sets foot in it Friday afternoon. He feels his heart rate speed up. Did Christian forget? Can’t be, or? With the way he posted it on Instagram and everything...

“Christian?” he calls, turning around in the empty place. “Are you there?” He stands there helpless for a minute, then his eyes fall on the backdoor.

“Christ–“ Samuel stops dead in his tracks when he spots the stage set up in the backyard. Its small, but still professional, with black cloths and proper headlights and all.

“Samu!” Christian turns around from where he’s standing in front of the stage, giving directions to some guy adjusting the lights. He walks towards him with wide arms, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and gives him a tight hug. “What do you think? Sick or?”

“Where did you get this? Do you have permission to do this out here? Doesn’t the stage block the garages? And what about noise control?”

“Oh come on Samu, don’t be like that. Just look at that fucking stage! Come on.” He gestures Samuel to follow him, then shows him a small machine in the right front corner of the platform. He pushes a button and white fog emerges. “It even has a fog machine! And…,” Christian stoops to open a big package next to their feet, “I got glow sticks. 500 for 30 €, not bad huh?”

Samuel rubs the back of his neck. “That’s really cool, thanks. But its also a bit…pressuring.”

“Pressure here, pressure there. You need to chill, Samu. Come.” Christian grabs him by the shoulder and leads him inside. “We’ll get you something to help you with that.”

Nothing beats an ice-cold beer. Or no, that isn’t fully true, nothing beats an ice-cold beer when you’re smoldering in the heat of Madrid’s June sun, perched on a chair next to your friend in the backyard of his bar. Its quiet except for Christian’s talking, mixed with breathy intakes of the cigarettes he smokes one after another, and the sun heats up the dusty asphalt beneath their feet. Luckily, the sunshine will have disappeared behind the house before the concert starts, or else they seriously would’ve needed to pay attention to nobody getting sunstroke, including themselves.

“When are Nano and Omar coming?”

Samuel shrugs and looks at his phone. “Don’t know. Omar’s still at work and Nano’s with Marina, she’s apparently hanging over the toilet since the morning.”

Christian’s wrinkles his nose. “I’m so glad being pregnant is a woman’s thing. I couldn’t handle it, seriously.” He blows some smoke into the air. “So she’s not coming tonight?”

Samuel shrugs again and puts his phone away to take a sip of his beer. “Probably not.”

He should be right with his assumption. When Nano arrives half an hour later, he tells them Marina’s a little better but rather stays in bed for the rest of the day, and Samuel just nods. Its not that he doesn’t care about her wellbeing, in fact they’re kind of family now, but he just doesn’t want to think about her. Because thinking about Marina also means thinking about Carla, and he can’t handle that now.

The soundcheck and the beer they share afterwards distract Samuel well enough until the concert starts. He only thinks of her again when he’s up on stage and faces all the heads in the crowd, his eyes automatically filtering for anything blonde. But she isn’t there, of course she isn’t, and its better like this.

He’s sweating like crazy when they’re coming to the end, high with adrenaline and joy. His body’s also still processing the beer he’d consumed before, and there’s a proper amount of heat radiating off the black stage he’s standing on. He can’t help but smile when everyone in the crowd sways their arms with glow sticks in hand at one of the slower songs, and his smile only widens when they’re done and everyone cheers and shouts for an encore.

“Okay,” Samuel speaks into the microphone, a little out of breath. He pushes a dark lock away from his sweaty forehead before going on, “I’ve got one last song for you.”

He feels Nano’s and Omar’s eyes bore into his back from behind. There’s no song left to play. No song they can play at least. Samuel doesn’t know if he’ll regret this after, if they’ll be angry at him for playing a new song all on his own without filling them in before, but as said he’s high with adrenaline and alcohol and just doesn’t care. What comes now is part of processing his feelings, okay? Everyone’s allowed a slip when they’re going through a break-up, no?

He draws a last deep breath and looks at the expectant crowd in front of him, then begins to move his right hand, gently sliding his fingers over the strings.

--

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Nano asks furiously. “Do you know how that makes us look? You playing a whole song on your own without telling us beforehand! It makes us look like the last idiots!”

Omar nods and rubs his chin with a sigh. “Yeah dude, that wasn’t cool at all. We’re a band, a team. There’s no space for ego shows.”

Samuel feels his heart pounding, partly as a result of their previous concert, partly out of guilt, frustration, anger. He really wants to punch something, his right hand’s already balled to a fist, but the nearest thing would be the stage’s framework they’re standing behind of, and he guesses the silver metal is a bit more stable than his knuckles. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d never agree on playing this song with me, okay? But I wanted to play it, I needed it.”

“Now its our fault, huh?” Nano gets closer to Samuel, then lowers his voice. “Fucking shit, that bitch really messed you up.”

His fist is already on its way to Nano’s jaw when he feels someone grab him from behind and pull him back.

“Samu! Samu calm down!” Christian pleads, hands wrapped around his body tightly to hinder him from moving. He’s more than experienced with breaking up bar fights by now and Samuel’s not really a challenge. He spins him around and cups his face to make Samuel look at him. “Calm down. We know you’re going through a lot right now, okay? Hell, I’d be ten times angrier if I lost that girl but…Nano’s your brother, Omar is your friend. They only want what’s best for you okay?”

Samuel’s chest heaves with furious breaths as he listens to Christian, hot tears welling up in his eyes. Then the other boy drags him in for a tight hug.

Nano and Samuel ignore each other for the rest of the night. While the elder brother spends most time smoking outside with some old friend, Omar provides assistance to the brooding Samuel and tries to distract him by making sure there’s always a drink in front of him. First beer, then rum with coke, then shots.

Throughout the evening, some people come up to their table and ask for photos and autographs; probably more in case they get famous than for them actually being famous – because they are not. Tonight’s concert was only their 10^th, from which they played five at Christian’s and five at other small bars (due to Christian’s contacts), and while the number of tickets they sold tonight was quite huge, they were sure that most of the people were also only here due to Christian’s contacts. But whatever, talking to their “fans” is fun, and the stares they get also indicate that there is definitely some hook-up potential. Not that Samuel seriously considers it – but Omar obviously does and hell, what kind of friend would Samuel be if he wasn’t happy for Omar to get some dick?

But Omar denies the temptation in favor of being there for his friend, and so they stumble out of the bar at three in the morning, deadass drunk and swaying like a ship in the middle of a storm.

The payback comes when Samuel awakes around midday the next day, covered in sweat due to the heat in his apartment, head feeling like he’s been hit with a brick multiple times. His headache only increases when he sees that he’s got seven missed calls from Christian.

“What’s up?” He asks when Christian picks up, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Did something happen?

“Dude, I tried to reach you all morning! I just started to get worried. Are you alright?”

“Got a hangover, else I’m fine. Now what is it? What happened?”

“I’ve got some really great news for you!” Christian’s voice is all giddy with excitement. “You know Pedro, that friend of mine who filmed the concert yesterday?”

Samuel sits down onto his kitchen chair, a little relieved its nothing bad, also a little disappointed because…well he doesn’t precisely know, disappointment seems to become a constant mood of his. “The one who made videos for your bar promo trailer?” Yes, Christian planned to create promo vids for his bar, he takes that social media game a little too seriously (or he uses it just the right way, judging by how many people he seems to convince to come to his bar every weekend. The concerts only fueled this development, and by now his bar’s quite a name in the scene).

“Exactly. And he also works for MegastarFM, the radio channel. The moderators are allowed to pick a few songs of new and unfamous artists for their Sunday evening program every week, and he asked me if he can play the live version of one of your songs tomorrow. I mean how sick is that? Your song – on the radio!”

Samuel smiles at Christian’s excitement. “Sounds great, why not? Did you speak to Nano and Omar already?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t need to speak to them, I only needed to speak to you.”

“That I wrote the songs doesn’t mean I completely own them, they’re part in this, too. You should ask the–“

“Samuel, I don’t need to speak to them because they’re not part of the song Pedro wants to play.” Its silent for a moment as Samuel processes the words, then Christian specifies: “He wants to play Carla.”

--

“How’s Marina doing?” Yeray asks while cleaning salad in the sink. “You haven’t seen her quite a while.”

Carla looks up from the chopping board, surprised. Yeray and Marina don’t exactly like each other, and he never bothered to ask about her before. Him caring about Marina is probably as unusual as Carla helping him cook. Maybe they get closer to one another after all? Spending their Sunday evening with preparing dinner together, the radio softly playing along, like a real couple. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if they finally pulled themselves together though, considering they’re getting fucking married.

“She’s fine.” Carla goes back to chopping the tomatoes. “She’s dealing with some pregnancy sickness at the moment, but the doctor said its not unusual during the first months and it’ll probably get better soon.”

That she and Marina haven’t met lately doesn’t mean they had no contact at all. After Carla made clear that she doesn’t want to talk about her engagement slash marriage (god) and ended things with Samuel, Marina hasn’t bothered her about it again, making things way less dramatic and enabling them to actually lead normal conversations. And of course, Marina’s got her hands full with being pregnant, trying to finish her bachelor thesis before the baby’s there and searching for an apartment that she and Nano can move into. The pregnancy is also the thing that occupies Carla most, and Marina already teased her for being a “worried auntie”. She adapted to her aunt-role way too quickly, but maybe its just part of her trying to distract herself from the misery that is her life.

Yeray nods. “That’s good – or I mean its not good that she’s sick all the time, its good that she’s okay overall. Must be quite stressful to accidentally get pregnant. I mean it was an accident or? Or was it planned?”

Carla wants to roll her eyes. If Yeray knew Marina by one bit, he’d know that she of course hadn’t planned to get pregnant at 26. “It was an accident.” She puts the tomatoes in the salad bowl, then goes to grab the cucumber out of the fridge. “I mean who wants to get pregnant this young?”

Yeray stares at her, then lowers his gaze. “Yeah…sounds a bit scary, but having children in your forties and being already old and grey when they’re teens is also far from ideal.”

She shrugs, focuses on the cucumber. Is he suggesting something? She’s overrun with sudden panic and suddenly can’t focus on the stupid cucumber anymore, just wants to do something, anything, that’ll stop him from talking.

“I like that song!” she suddenly blurts and turns the radio’s volume up. Its some rap song, a genre she certainly doesn’t listen to, and Yeray gives her a weird look. They continue their dinner preparations in silence, only listen to the rap song that’s awfully bad, then to some advertise for a water park and a hardware store, and then to the moderator introducing himself before preparing the listeners for the next song by giving some background information about the artist and band behind him.

That’s when Yeray pauses his movements. “Isn’t that the band you and Marina went to see once or twice? You even hung out with them, didn’t you?”

Carla feels her heart hammering in her chest. Calm down, she tells herself, nothing to be nervous about, its just one of their fucking songs. But the outsight of listening to Samuel’s voice for the next three or four minutes while Yeray’s right beside her catapults her right back into the guilty frightened stage she’s been in after Nano busted her. She only nods and hums, because she’s sure no word coming out of her mouth now would sound even close to normal and not like she’s hiding something. She just prays that he won’t ask further questions.

He doesn’t. He listens to what the moderator’s saying instead, which turns out to be far worse than any shaky lie coming out of Carla’s mouth.

“The piece I’m about to play is a live recording of the concert that took place in the backyard of a bar last Friday, an iconic setting for an even more iconic performance. Everyone who hasn’t witnessed this small indie-rock band play their hearts out seriously missed out, and everyone who prematurely left or was too drunk to pay attention at the end of the concert also did, because that’s when the singer decided to spontaneously play the grand piece of music you’re about to hear.”

“Oh calm down, Pedro, it’s a bit melanchonic, don’t you think?” a female voice appears. Carla hasn’t even registered that there were two moderators until now. “Its surely a matter of taste, but if you ask me it’ll be better if that singer gets his girl back as soon as possible to stop him from producing even more depressing songs.”

The male moderator laughs. “Its emotional, not depressing. Though I don’t share your opinion, maybe it’s worth a try: Carla, if you’re out there, get in touch with Samuel again and make that guy happy. Because that’s what the following song is called: Carla.” 

She’s sure her heart has stopped beating at this point. She stares down blankly, holding on to the cucumber and the cutting knife for dear life, not daring to look at Yeray who turns to her slowly as the first verse begins to play.

“Carla, you don’t say much, about all of the pain that you feel…” – Fuck you Samuel. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

Yeray laughs nervously. Disbelieving. “He made a song that’s…that’s named after you.”

The chuckle that leaves her mouth is anything but appropriate. “Sure, because I’m the only Carla living on this world. There are hundreds, thousands of Carla’s. Why would that song be about me?” Shut up. You’re only making it worse.

“It…does make sense.” Yeray rubs his forehead, mouth twitching with insecurity. “That’s what you did whenever you said you were hanging out with Marina. That’s why you came home late and weren’t on your phone for hours whenever you were away. That’s why you began listening to their music. You were with him, don’t you? And now you’re not seeing him anymore and he…he makes a song about you.”

Her heart shatters into a million pieces. Not only because she didn’t succeed in hiding this from him, but because she sees his pain and confusion and insecurity on full display, and because she knows its over. Its over, is all she can think. After eight years, its over. She always imagined how happy she’d be without him, how happy her life could be without this forced relationship, but now she feels anything but happy.

“I knew it…,” he continues his monologue. “I knew that something was off, knew it the whole time. You cheated on me. My girlfriend of eight years cheated on me.” His stare gets cold and she feels herself squirm underneath it. “The girlfriend I wanted to make my wife, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And you…acted like everything was fine. You said yes when I proposed to you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Shit!” He presses his hands to his forehead, desperate. “Who the fuck are you, Carla? How can you lie to my face, how can you tell me you love me, how can you sleep with me, knowing you’re cheating on me? What kind of sick shit…” He steadies himself on the kitchen counter, breathing ragged.

Carla takes a step forward, whole body shivering already. “Yeray, I’m sorry,” she says with quivering lips, reaches out for him. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t want to hurt you…it just kind of…happened.”

“It just kind of happened?!” He slaps her hand away. “You know what? Your father has been right about you. He always told me to watch out and put you in your place more often. He warned me that this could happen. Fuck!”

She jumps as he slams his hand onto the counter. Then he straightens up and turns to her. “I want you out. Now. I don’t care where you go. Just – leave.”

Chapter Text

Crisis time isn’t over yet. To the contrary, it seems to just be getting started.

“You let him play that song on the radio?” Nano snorts. “Did you think about us for even one second? That it could be better when he plays a song that involves all of us, not just you?”

Samuel ruffles his hair with a sigh. “Its not my fault he wanted to play that specific song. I’ve got no idea what’s so great about it either. And he did mention the band, too. Said it’s just one solo number among our songs.”

Nano gets up from his camping stool angrily and starts pacing back and forth. “That’s not what this is about, okay? This is about loyalty, about us being one. About sticking together and not do things behind the other’s backs. We’re a band, fucking shit.”

Samuel looks down at his feet. Technically, he isn’t wrong. Then Nano nods at Omar with his hands on his hips: “What about you, hm? Don’t you want to say anything?”

The third boy shrugs, eyes wide. “I’ve got nothing to add. I get you, Samuel, I really do. Heartbreak sucks and all, but that was pretty shitty.”

“Maybe we should take a break,” Samuel blurs suddenly, then looks up at his band colleagues. “I mean we had 10 concerts now, that’s a nice number to stop, or?” he gestures at Nano. “And you won’t have much time in the future anyway, with the baby and all.”

The older brother’s face changes from completely bewildered to understanding. “But what about you?” he looks at the others. “Won’t you be bored without the band?”

“Actually, with my family renovating the shop this summer…” Omar deliberates. “I wouldn’t have had much time, anyway.”

“And you, Samu?”

He scratches his brown locks. “There’s something…that I wanted to do for quite a while now. I thought about it every now and then, but it never really fit into my life before…and if we agree on a break now it may does.”

Nano and Omar exchange a curious glance, then simultaneously ask: “And what?”

--

Marina wonders a little when her doorbell rings around eight on Sunday evening. She walks away from the stove where she’d been cooking a pot of Spaghetti – something she found out to be one of the rare meals she can eat without getting sick, Spaghetti with a hint of olive oil and parmesan – and opens the door.

“Hey,” she smiles. “You’re early.”

Nano walks through the door. “Yeah, we didn’t rehearse. And Samuel had to go to work.”

About fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting on the balcony, eating. The sun has already started to set, dipping Madrid into a beautiful palette of red and orange colors.

“You know what’s practical about eating on the balcony? If I have to puke, I can just lean over the railing.”

Nano chuckles quietly. It’s the first sign of emotion that leaves him since he arrived. When his features quickly get serious again, Marina frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“Apart from our band taking a break and my brother going completely insane everything’s fine.”

The taking-a-break-thing is quickly explained. The situation is tense, they’re all kind of exhausted and for Nano, having to take care of a newborn in not-too-distant future will be enough of a challenge next to working. Marina nods, an empathetic smile on her lips, and tells him that taking a break doesn’t mean they’ll never play together again. Of course it’s sad, but also kind of inevitable. Music isn’t their job, and it never will be. Nano meets her with a thankful smile for her kind words, that soon disappears when she asks about Samuel.

“He asked us if he can borrow the band’s van over summer. Apparently wants to go on some sort self-discovery trip.” He shakes his head, unbelieving of his own words. “He even has a savings-account for that…I don’t know how long he planned it.”

“But that sounds quite great, doesn’t it?” Marina asks. “I’d join him if I could, honestly. He should use every chance to travel before it’s too late.” She bites her tongue when she realizes how old that makes her sound. But its true, he really should. Because life changes fast, she’s the best example for that, and she really wouldn’t want to miss out all the great memories she collected in her various trips around the world. She would even say they helped her grow and realize what she wants in life (at least to an extent one knows that at 26) and without having seen various countries or meeting various people, settling down now would’ve been much harder for her. Not like she won’t be able to ever travel again, it’s just something different when you’re traveling as a family. Full moon parties on exotic beaches definitely aren’t something you bring your child along to.

“I don’t know.” Nano shifts and puts his cutlery down. “Its just that its…you know him, Marina. Can you imagine Samuel going on a road trip? Don’t tell me he isn’t the most unadventurous and unspontaneous person you know.”

Okay, he may have a point with that, but maybe a road trip is the exact thing Samuel needs to become more laid back. And after all, Nano can’t do much about it, because if there’s one thing the brothers have in common, it’s their iron-hard stubbornness.

“When will he go?” Marina asks finally.

“He wanted to talk to our boss now, so I guess as soon as possible.”

--

Carla trembles like an aspen leaf when she’s finally at his door. She basically stormed up the three floors to Samuel’s apartment after luckily meeting one of his neighbors at the main door, letting her in. Now she stands here, the brown wood building a insuperable barrier between her and the man she desperately wants to sharply slap across his face. What on earth was he thinking? Releasing a song about her is one thing, releasing a song that’s named after her something completely different. She pushes the button of his doorbell again. One time, two times, three times. Then she goes straight for the door, her impatient and angry knocks echoing through the hallway. Nothing.

He isn’t home – on Sunday evening? Is he at work, or out with friends? Does he have a date?

“Fuck!” She hits the door with her flat hand and presses her forehead against it. Fuck.

--

One thing Marina has always admired about Carla is her punctuality, closely followed by her reliability. She’s practically never late, always organized and never forgets an appointment (that one time when Marina wanted to pick her up for the concert was probably the first time ever Carla forgot something). But as much as it was admiring, Carla’s borderline tendency for organization and time management got onto Marina’s nerves on more than once occasion. Because similar to how much she loved her friend’s punctuality, Carla hated Marina’s lack of it, and when their worlds clashed, neat Iphone calendar vs. messy datebook, conflicts were inevitable.

Marina already prepared herself for another confrontation while scurrying towards the high building, meandering through businesspeople who are streaming out of their offices at lunchtime to either grab a small meal on hand or set in one of the countless restaurants that are located in the fancy quarter. Her hasty breaths are interrupted by various apologies, and Marina feels a thin layer of sweat build on her skin thanks to the mixture of stress and stale hot city air. A wave of relief flashes through her when she walks around the final corner and Carla’s nowhere to be seen yet, only to come back twice as strong when Marina’s overheated brain processes the prior thought. She’s not on time.

Its quarter past two when Marina decides to call her. It goes straight to her answering machine. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the tall building in front of her. Maybe she’s stuck in a meeting.

“Hello,” Marina smiles at Carla’s secretary. She doesn’t know if the woman remembers her, she’s only been her one or two times before. “Carla and I were supposed to meet around twenty minutes ago and she hasn’t showed up yet, so I was wondering…” she trails off when she notices the woman’s features slipping. But she composes herself just as quickly, a faked smile plastered on her lips as she begins to speak.

“I’m sorry, but Miss Rosón isn’t in the house today.”

“So she’s working from home? Or does she have an appointment outward?”

The secretary pushes her glasses up and presses her lips together uneasily. Marina immediately realizes what that means. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Listen,” the woman sighs, “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but I know you’re a friend of hers. She hasn’t showed up to work yesterday and I haven’t been able to reach her yet. I don’t know where she is, neither do her parents or anyone else. Officially, she’s sick.”

The heat feels even more torturing than before when Marina is out on the sidewalk again. She looks left and right a few times, still hoping to spot the familiar blonde head in between the never-ending stream of pedestrians, only to defeatedly unlock her phone when she realizes that this is hopeless.

She calls her again, unsuccessful, opens Whatsapp to find the last message she sent Carla on Sunday evening: Sounds good, I’ll be there at one. See you on Tuesday :) (I hope I’ll be able to eat something…). She hadn’t wondered about the lack of answer until now, both of them weren’t that big on texting, but with the background of Carla not showing up either to work or to their meeting, its enough to make her worry.

The next person she calls picks up at the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey Yeray, here’s Marina. Do you know where Carla is? We were supposed to meet for lunch but she didn’t show up.”

Silence. Then: “No, I don’t. And I don’t really care right now. Sorry.”

“What? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“She hasn’t told you?” he lets out a bitter snort. “Aren’t you her best friend? The one she meets three times a week and texts non-stop with? Or no, sorry, I forgot you only served as a cover up for the guy she cheated on me with.”

Now its Marina’s turn to remain silent. He knows. He knows. She can’t believe it. “She told you?” Her voice is small now.

“Ha, if she had at least the courage to do so. But no, I had to find out myself. Good to know you knew it all along, Marina,” he spits the last word. “I have a meeting now. Good luck on finding her. Oh, and if you do – don’t call me again, I don’t care.”

--

There’s sweat on his forehead when he’s finally done. Done with cleaning the van’s cupboards and fridge, with scrubbing the tiny bathroom, with vacuuming the footwells in the driver’s cabin. Samuel rubs the sweat away with the back of his hand and flaps the front of his shirt to create some wind. Then his eyes fall onto the bunk, reminding him of his next task. It’s the hardest one probably, changing the sheets in which they slept together. It was only one time, yet it doesn’t feel less meaningful to him. But he has to change them, and not merely for hygienic aspects. He can’t sleep in sheets that have her smell all over them, sweet with perfume and a bit sweaty with sex – he can’t be reminded of what they did here and how she made him feel, not when he wants this to be a new beginning and a way to forget her.

Alone touching the fabric is enough to make his whole body tingle, and then he can’t resist the urge to press his nose into the blanket and close his eyes for a second. It catapults him right back to the morning they woke up here together, eyes small and smiles wide, soft whispers and murmuring waves the only noises within their peaceful bubble of secrets and love.

Now there are neither whispers nor waves to be heard, instead it’s a familiar melody that rips him out of his daydream.

“Marina?” He throws the blanket back into the bunk. His heart speeds up as soon as he registers the nervous tone in her question. “No, she isn’t with me. I haven’t heard from her since…,” he clears his throat, “since she ended our…thing.”

Samuel is at Marina’s place in less than twenty minutes. He nearly bumps into her as he rushes through the door, but she doesn’t seem to care much. She looks far too worried for that.

“I called literally everyone who knows her, and no one has a clue where she could be.” She ruffles her red locks. She’s fairly desperate by now. In the last twenty minutes, she’d called anyone whom she thought could give her the slightest hint, even Lu, but nothing. No one had seen her, heard from her, received a text or call from her – there was nothing. “I – I don’t know what to do anymore. She must be completely desperate. I mean Yeray sounded so angry and it wouldn’t wonder me if he already told her parents, and if they know about the breakup, well, then shit really hits the fan.”

“Because she was with him to financially support them?”

Marina gasps, then stops walking back and forth to look at Samuel. “Support them? That’s what she told you? God, this girl…They forced her to do this. They didn’t leave her another choice, okay? Always blamed her for every single mistake they made, only to make her feel guilty so that they can exploit her. Why do you think I supported your affair so much? Because I wanted her to have some fun? I wanted to save her life, for fuck’s sake.”

“Marina, hey…” Samuel says as softly as possible while shock and panic rattles through his chest. He has to be the rational one here, but to be fair it’s kind of a hard task for him. Marina looks at him with teary eyes when he places his hands on her shoulders. “We’re going to find her, okay?”

His hopes of keeping his promise sink rapidly after they drove around Madrid for two hours without success, after they went to her place to find nobody but the cleaning lady, after they scanned her favorite café’s and restaurants, went to her favorite bookstore, even the gym she almost never attends because of her preference for jogging. Samuel clutches the steering wheel of his small red car in the gym’s parking lot. “Where to next?”

“I don’t know.” Marina shakes her head. “I seriously don’t know. I mean, where would Carla hide after her life collapsed onto her like a house of cards?”

That moment, something in Samuel’s brain clicks. “Shit, why haven’t I thought of this earlier?” His voice is filled with new-found hope when he starts the engine. “I think I know where she is.”

--

It’s the first time she smiles within the last two days. It’s a small smile, the corners of her lips only raised ever so slightly, but it’s a beginning. The sight of freshly manicured nails and the knowledge of having every last of her pores cleared never fail to satisfy her. She feels clean, neat, in control. That feeling instantly vanishes when she turns around the corner and freezes in her steps, the flapping sound of her flip flops replaced by a violent knocking sound. Marina and Samuel banging onto her hotel room’s door is probably the last thing she expected to see. She thinks about turning around and getting into the elevator again, but then Marina already spots her.

“Carla!” she shouts with obvious relief, wrapping her arms around the blonde’s body. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.” Marina lets go of her after a few seconds of tight hugging and eyes her glorious outfit: a white fluffy bathrobe and golden flipflops. “Where were you?”

“In the spa,” Carla shrugs, eyes flickering to Samuel who comes up behind Marina. “What are you two doing here?”

“We were supposed to meet for lunch, remember? Well, you didn’t show up and your secretary told me no one knows where you are, for which I decided to call Yeray. Then he told me everything and said he doesn’t know where you are. After that, I thought you were with Samuel, but when he told me you weren’t, I got worried. We’ve been looking for you everywhere! And god, I imagined all sorts of things, I mean you’re going through a breakup – I thought of literally any scenario, but none of them were that you booked yourself into the Royal Suite and spent your time with massages and manicures.” A smile makes its way to Marina’s lips.

“What? Did you think I’d stay in bed all day and eat junkfood? Bitch please, I’ve got some dignity.”

The girls giggle, and Samuel feels his cheeks heat up. He never claimed to have dignity in the first place, okay?

The atmosphere quickly shifts after their lighthearted laughter. It shifts at the exact point when Marina asks Carla to tell them what happened. The blonde shows a remarkable amount of reluctance, yet invites them into her hotel room, probably out of discretion. They find a neat and tidy room, the only evidence of someone occupying it being an opened suitcase on the floor.  

“Now you can talk.” Carla faces them with her trademarked straight posture. Shoulders back, chest out, chin high – if anyone can be taken seriously in a bathrobe and flipflops, its Carla.

“Can we at least sit down?” Marina gestures to the couch. Carla walks – no, she strides – over to the seating area and takes place in the armchair while Marina and Samuel sit down on the couch across from her. Two against one, that’s what it feels like. Ironic, considering they’re all on one side, and that is hers.

“How did it happen?” The red-haired girl asks carefully. That’s when Carla’s eyes land on Samuel, and they stay there mercilessly as she begins to speak.

“Well apparently someone has written a song about me, named after me.” Her tone is dangerously low. “And had the audacity to give it to the radio, where people can hear it. People who don’t belong to a pathetic crowd in Christian’s bar, people all around Madrid and probably even further; they listen to it while doing the laundry or preparing dinner, for example. And you know who was listening, too? Yeray and I.”

Marina and Samuel stare at her in utter shock. As if they can’t believe that people out there actually listen to the radio.

Carla leans forward with a sharp voice. “And you know whose fiancé apparently used the only three braincells of his that aren’t occupied with work and fitness and put one and one together while hearing that song? Whose fiancé remembered the band’s name and asked me if that’s not the same band I have seen and hung out with? Well, unfortunately, it was mine.”

She gets up, unable to sit still any longer. “And while you enjoyed your Sunday night happily in front of the TV or in a bar or god knows where, I needed to find a place to stay at with nothing but this fucking suitcase.” She points at the object, hand shaking with anger. “That’s all I have left! I don’t even have a phone charger or pajamas, because packing a suitcase while crying your heart out is quite challenging!”

The two on the couch look absolutely helpless. Not even Marina knows what to say, and that means something. Samuel is even more insecure than her, realizing that this is all his fault.

“Are you happy now?!” Carla snaps when they don’t react. “Did you get what you want? That I’m left with nothing?”

“We’re not happy, of course,” Marina replies. “We’re happy when you are, which obviously isn’t the case.” She stands up and walks towards the blonde. “And I can imagine that it must scare the shit out of you to lose everything at once, and that the way Yeray found out about you and Samuel is absolutely shitty, but on the other hand it’s over now. It’s over, and you’re free. Isn’t that a reason to be happy?”

“And what does all the freedom get me when I’ve got no one to share it with?”

Marina exhales deeply. So that’s what scares her. “You’re not alone, Carla, okay? You’ve got me, and you’ve got Samuel.” The boy nods hastily when the girls turn around to look at him shortly. Then they go back to their conversation. “You won’t have to deal with all that alone, hear me? We’ll find you a nice apartment with fancy stucco moldings on the ceiling and a large windowsill where you can sit and read your old books, and we’ll get you a new job in a company that only waits for your expertise and lets you work your beloved fifty hours a week, and you’ll be happier than ever.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Carla asks, but she doesn’t sound offended. Instead, her features soften, shoulders sacking.

“I always do, don’t you know that?”

Their hug is long and tight, and when they let go of each other again, Carla already managed to calm her quiet sobs down to small sniffles. The other girl cups her cheeks softly and wipes her last tears away with a reassuring smile.

“You’re going to be a good mum,” the blonde mumbles, cheeks a bit chubby due to her friend’s gentle grasp.

Marina’s smile gets a little wider, her hands sinking down to Carla’s shoulders. She squeezes them gently. “And you’re going to be an even better aunt.”

And then its Samuel’s turn. He realizes it when Carla thanks Marina for everything, hugs her again and turns to look at him while asking her friend to give them some privacy to talk under four eyes. The girl’s out the door faster than he can register, and Carla walks over to sit down on the armchair again. They look at each other in silence until she begins to talk.

“I was at your apartment on Sunday, right after he kicked me out.”

Samuel furrows his brows. “Really?”

“Mhm. But you weren’t there. So I went here.”

“I was at work…why haven’t you called me? I could’ve told you where the spare key is.”

Her heart flutters. Knowing that he’d give her access to his place within the blink of an eye after everything she said to him really does things for her. Either he’s extremely caring or extremely dumb. Probably both, but that isn’t much of a problem for her. She’ll have him either way. “I don’t know. I wasn’t that big on rational thinking in that moment.” He lifts one corner of his mouth in the way he always does, and suddenly Carla can’t stand being so far away from him anymore. She gets up and sits down next to him, becoming aware of her outfit again. But its not like there’s something he hasn’t seen before, and if the bathrobe slips a little, it may even work in her favor. (Furthermore, she’s wearing a bikini underneath). “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I…didn’t mean it. None of it. And I only said it to push you away, to make this all…easier. But truth is that your creativity and tendency for deep talk are my favorite things about you.”

“That are your favorite things about me? I always thought it were my cooking skills or sex appeal.”

Carla snorts. “I would’ve slapped you across your face, you know? If you opened the door on Sunday. I was so angry at you…”

“Understandable…I’m sorry about the song. I didn’t want to affect your life with it. I didn’t plan it or something.”

“Of course you didn’t plan it. Or maybe you planned for me to hear it and think about what I’ve lost, but you couldn’t plan that my fiancé – or ex-fiancé – would hear it. That was just an unfortunate coincidence.”

“Or it was fate.”

She snorts again, even louder this time. But in opposite to her, there’s no trace of amusement on Samuel’s face. “You really believe in all that crap, don’t you?” she asks with a soft smile. He returns it with a sheepish shrug, his gaze ticking between her eyes and lips.

Its Carla who finally closes the distance between them, cupping his jaw with her hand as if she’s scared that he’d back off when their lips meet. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, only deepens the gentle touch by opening his mouth. They kiss slowly and unhurriedly, and the warmth of his face and the breath that tingles onto Carla’s cheeks fill her with nothing but comfort. The smooching sound when they part again makes them giggle like thirteen-year-olds who just kissed for the first time, and so does it feel when Samuel takes her hand and strokes it softly.

“You never told me they were forcing you all along,” Samuel states later that night. They’re laying in bed facing each other, the thin satin sheets barely draped over each of their naked bodies. “I thought that you’d maneuvered yourself into an unfortunate situation like it sometimes happens in life, when one thing leads to another and suddenly, you’re trapped. But I didn’t think it was this bad. That they, you know, threatened you and all.”

Carla closes her eyes for a moment. “I didn’t want your pity. Or that you’d try to get me out of it. I had Marina try it for eight years and it caused me trouble on more than one occasion. That’s why I didn’t tell you how bad it was. Or still is.” He scoots closer to her, draping one arm over her hip. “I haven’t talked to them yet, and I’m pretty afraid of it to be honest. I don’t even want to charge my phone with the outsight of having twenty missed calls from my father.”

“I’m so sorry. I feel like…the most ignorant and dumb person on earth right now. I should’ve asked more.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Carla shakes her head. “That would’ve only led to me pushing you away even sooner. I was a hopeless case. And you’re not ignorant and dumb. Or maybe a little dumb, but don’t worry its still cute.” Her eyes glisten a little. “And in the end, you helped me, even if not intended and unknowingly, but you did.”

He hugs her to him even tighter, and she goes willingly, presses her face into his chest until every one of her breaths is filled with his warmth and smell, and he holds her there until the morning, nose buried into the blonde – no, golden – hair he loves so much.

--

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Carla whispers into Marina’s locks. “If there’s something wrong with you or the baby, you need to call me immediately, okay? I’ll take the next plane from wherever we are then and –“

“I’m gonna be fine.” Marina breaks the hug and holds her at arm-length. “You need to care about yourself now, okay? Don’t worry so much.”

They walk to where Nano and Samuel stand in front of the van’s hood and do a last check-up. Or more specifically its Nano who does, while Samuel just stands next to him and tries to remember everything he says about checking the oil level regularly and making sure the van doesn’t lose any brake fluid.

“I won’t hug you,” Nano says to Carla, showing his oil-smeared hands. He looks over to Marina and Samuel, but they’re engulfed in their own conversation a few meters away. Then he lowers his voice. “Thank you for not telling them.”

Carla nods. She decided to keep the whole blackmailing story to herself. When the truth only provokes conflicts and doesn’t have any use, she thinks, some things are better kept private. And a shared secret has its advantages. “If you treat her or the baby anything close to poorly, I will.” She takes off her sunglasses. “I will tell them, and I will literally end you. I won’t watch another child growing up with a shitty father, okay? I won’t let that happen.”

“Okay, okay, got it.” He takes his hands up in defeat, then points to the patch on his bicep. “I’m really trying, see?”

She puts the sunglasses back onto her nose again to enable herself a slight eyeroll, as if a nicotine patch is any proof for being a good father. But he seems to be trying, so she grants him a small smile. “I see. Then let’s hope you hang in there.”

Marina and Nano finally leave, and then its only Carla and Samuel in the backyard of his house, standing in front of the van that’s packed to the bursting point. “Then let’s go.”

“What? No!” Carla stares at the keys he handed her. “I can’t drive this…thing!”

“Well, its your great escape, isn’t it? Then you should drive,” Samuel shouts from the passenger seat. “I’ll provide you with snacks and my grand taste in music!”

Her hands aren’t only sweaty with heat when she climbs into the driver’s seat. She gulps as she stares at the coupling. In contrary to the cars she owned so far, the van doesn’t have an automatic system. Samuel registers her stare and tries to encourage her, but his talking just makes her nervous. “Can you, like, shut up while I try this?”

He obeys immediately and looks out of his window as if that makes him seem less present, but she can literally feel his dumb grin when she tries to drive off and the van only jumps forward, engine stalled. “One comment and I’ll throw you out of the window,” she informs him, then tries again and somehow gets the van to move this time.

After roughly five and a half hours, they finally reach the French border, and with it the Pyrenees. Its where their first goal is, a beautiful lake in the middle of the mountains. But before they get there, Carla needs a small break.

“Everything alright?” Samuel hands her a bottle of water as they stand in the van’s shadow to flee from the simmering heat that’s multiplied by hundred due to the service station’s dark asphalt.

“Mhm.” She takes a large sip, looking into the direction of the border they just passed, back to where their home country lays. “This just feels so surreal. Normally, this would simply be another Monday for me, I’d come back from lunch break just about now. But instead, I’m going on a road trip for…an indefinite period of time.”

Samuel swallows a piece of apple. “Not that indefinite. In September I need to get back to work.”

“Oh come on, allow me to be a little dramatic as well, okay?” They smile. “And now tell me, is there another sandwich left, Mr. master chef?”

--

– One month later –

They say time heals every wound, and while one month of healing is nothing compared to eight years of suffering, Carla begins to feel the first effects of her new, peaceful life. Its not peaceful in a boring sense, though. Its peaceful in a “making new experiences”- sense, in exploring new places and nature or just life in general, in seeing different things or just the same things from a different perspective. It also means experiencing love, but not in the boring and fake way she did all her life. Being in love with Samuel feels like a whole new experience itself. And she’s bound to make a whole lot more new experiences as long as they’re on the road.

Because once they’re back in Madrid, she has to focus on the things she left behind more or less unsolved, like the fact she quit her job or stuffed all of the belongings she didn’t bring along into a rental garage. And while she’s pretty positive that she’ll find a new job as well as a new place to live when she gets back, she’s not so positive that there’s any way to resolve her disastrous family relations. Just as she expected, her parents practically disinherited her (at least verbally, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they made their threats become true) and things were left off anything but rosy. Same goes for her relationship with Yeray. He even wanted the stupid ring back to exchange it, and she gladly gave it to him. Still, she decided not to tell him about her true reason for their relationship (though it’s a miracle to her he never suspected anything. Or maybe he did, but never told her). Anyways, she thought that telling him would only make him suffer even more, and this whole story has caused enough suffering already.

She’d be lying if she said those things didn’t cause her worries every now and then. But unlike before, she manages to share her worries now, and she has someone who’s willing to listen to her. Someone who cares for her more than anything else in the world.

“Are you sure you want to eat that?”

Carla stares at the brownie in front of her, then back at Samuel with a mischievous smirk. “What, are you afraid?” He shakes his head like the way he always does when he wants to come off unimpressed and cool. “It’s called making new experiences.” She winks and takes her first bite.

“That really was a waste of money,” Samuel states as they walk through the city. “I might as well have thrown the twenty euros into the water here.” They come to halt in the middle of a small bridge and stare down at one of Amsterdam’s countless canals, boats with tourists floating through the dark water underneath them.

“The waiter said it might take some time until the effect is noticeable.”

They stroll through the city some more, and after one and a half hours, Carla doesn’t quite believe her own words anymore. She even forgets about the stupid Spacecake when they enter a shop full of cheese. Yes, they’ll absolutely go for every tourist attraction here.

The shop assistant turns out to be a real cheese expert and doesn’t hesitate to engage them into a conversation. They nod at the various facts about cheese he tells them, some more interesting than others, but when he turns around to get a very special loaf out of the stocking’s room and Carla points to a piece of cheese and whispers that one hole looks just like a heart and asks Samuel if he thinks its some sign of fate in a mocking tone before breaking out in giggles, they realize they’re fucked.

From that point it gets increasingly harder to stay serious at the man’s cheese-talk, especially when he talks about a special race of Dutch cows that are massaged every day to improve their milk and Carla seriously asks what kind of massage they get, like one with hot stones or more a shiatsu-kind of thing. Samuel scolds her, but only half-heartedly, because he finds this really fucking funny as well.

--

“Nano!” Marina shouts in the living room – or what’s supposed to be the living room somewhen. Right now, the floor’s still covered with painter’s carpet, and instead of a lamp there are loose cables hanging from the ceiling. “Do you see what I see?” she asks her boyfriend, who comes out of their soon-to-be-nursery, covered in light green paint.

He squints at the picture of Samuel and Carla on Marina’s phone. They’re sitting on a bench, both showing a peace-sign with small eyes. “Are they stoned?”

“Okay, I will not miss this.” Marina’s fingers fly over the display as she starts a videocall.

“Heeeey!” Samuel smiles into the camera. “What’s up?”

“Hi! I should rather ask you that, hm?” Marina raises her brows.

“We were in a cheese shop,” Samuel says randomly. Then he swivels his phone so that Carla’s in sight, too. She sits next to him like a sack of potatoes, a very unlike posture for her, big sunglasses on her face. “Carla, how many euros did you spend at the cheese shop?” Its only then that Marina and Nano register the ridiculously big bag Carla’s clutching to.

She looks into the camera with a straight face. “Three.”

Its enough to make Samuel crack up, whereupon Marina and Nano just look at each other with amused frowns.

“Nooo!” Samuel slurs. “You spent eighty euros! Guys, she spent eighty freaking euros on cheese! Can you believe that? And now she’s already complaining that the bag is too heavy, oh and she feels sick because the shop assistant had her trying, like, fifty different sorts.”

“Samuel, stop talking so much please.” She complains next to him, rubbing her temple as if she’s the most stressed person on earth. But the attention she’s drawn to herself only falls back on her when Samuel holds his phone even closer into her face now. She tries to shield the lens with her hand, her annoyed sigh soon turning into giggles.

“This is the face of someone who just spent eighty euros on cheese,” Samuel says in a horrible interviewer-imitation. “Do you have anything you want to say in your defense?”

“Fuck off.”

“Do we need to worry?” Marina interrupts them, practicing her mom-voice. “Is your road trip getting out of hand? Not that you come back addicted.”

“If anyone comes back addicted its this young lady here,” Samuel’s still in his interviewer-role. “She already is, if you ask me. She’s addicted to cheese and my –“

“Samuel, stop!” Carla clasps her hand over his mouth. “I think everyone knows I like cheese by now, okay?” She grabs his phone, where she sees Marina palming her face and Nano grinning into the camera.

“This is even better than what I’ve imagined,” the red-haired girl states.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” the blonde tries her best to sound normal and not stoned as fuck like she is. “Any last words to Samuel? I’m not sure he’ll survive the night with that loose mouth of his.”

The couple shakes their heads, then Marina speaks: “No, just try to not murder each other, okay? Or else you’ll never be able to attend the grandiose inauguration party we’re planning, and that would be a shame!”

“Can’t make any promises,” Carla shrugs carelessly, but her hand is already crawling the head of dark hair that’s leaning against her shoulder now. “Maybe I’ll come back with a hot Dutchman who talks less bullshit.”

--

Just for the record: When Carla attends the party a few weeks later, tanned and enriched with memories she’ll never forget for the rest of her life, she’s still in company of Samuel. Its her favorite company.