Alright you guys, I originally wanted something else, but since imperfection can't be ignored, then here it is!

Pizzachic, you have Pancake to thank for that. :) She's the one who reminded me that Margo can't be all that perfect. xD

Well Pancake, I liked how they shared their interest in engineering tho, but I think that's it. The mustache really turned me off. :/ xD

Hehe, you have a really, really, really vivd imagination, Merestuffins. xD

Anyone for a lol moment after all that tension? xDD Can Maroon 5 give you a song that can't be related to TCUASPO2? O.o And dragging I don't really like doing. :/ *late*

Chapter Ten

His lids flickered open before he opened his eyes to a blurred world. The room was dim except for a lamp beside him that filled the room with warm white light. Outside, he saw that the sky had darkened to a near-pitch black, and glistening stars littered the space above the world's head.

He scrambled out of his bed to glance at his clock. It was around eight in the evening already, and he'd completely forgotten to set his alarm. Now, he was at least an hour and a half late for his date!

Quickly, he freshened up, but not before his tire got tangled in the covers, or before he bumped groggily into the door frame of the bathroom. Painfully and frustratedly he got out of the shower roughly ten minutes later, and switched off the lights, remembering to lock the door. He raced out of the hotel, running towards the home as he knew she would still be there. He knocked on the door, where Giacomo answered in once more.

"Signore Camino," he said, startled.

"Giacomo, is Margo here?" Miguel asked breathlessly.

"Oh." The butler's eyes were apologetic. "She left just-a before the famiglia left-a," he replied with a thick Italian accent. "That was-a a few hours ago, I think-a."

Miguel's heart plummeted. She could be anywhere by now!

"Miguel?" a soft voice made him jump around, and the two male cars stared at the girl before them. It was Margo.

"Margo," he breathed in relief. She hadn't been kidnapped, or worse.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly. "I thought you'd gone and had…dinner." She seemed to have stopped herself.

"I was looking for you," he told her, moving closer. "I'm so sorry I was late."

She blinked, and was that sadness in her gaze? "No need," she replied. "I—"

"Before you think anything, I was asleep," he told her quickly, unable to think that she would believe he went off with someone else. "I swear."

This seemed to take her aback, and amusement flashed in her gaze now. "You shouldn't've come then," she told him. "You should have caught up on your rest."

"No," he replied. "I made a promise to you."

She chuckled now, her DRL's flickering slightly in the dim. "I…I don't know what to say."

"At least agree to have dinner with me," he insisted.

"You really want to talk to me, don't you?" she said, quite flustered. "Alright."

Feeling in his chest flared, and his lips widened in a smile as she turned to Giacomo.

"Wait until Marlene and Francesco get home," she told the butler. "Tell them I'll be back, and not to worry." The butler nodded, and closed the door, leaving the two in the dark.

"You…?"

"Yes, I can speak Italian, Spanish, French and German," she told him quickly. "I liked learning them because it was engaging to do so." She didn't look his way. "I only learned German because I used to ask things at Audi's manufacturing plant. French because some of my friends couldn't speak English as well. Italian has an answer in itself," she chuckled, "and Spanish, well, let's say it's been a childhood dream."

"Really?"

"Well, as far as I can remember," she replied. "I mean, it's not something I should brag about, really." She chuckled quite nervously, looking away.

"No, I mean, it's great that you've learned how to speak in many languages," he pointed out. "I don't think I'd have done that."

"Not as great as you," she replied quietly. "You've won, what, many trophies, poles, wins?" She sighed. "I've no achievements to flaunt."

"Sure you do," he encouraged. "Any degrees?"

"Er…I've a masters' on mechanical engineering," she stammered, "and a baccalaureate in electrical engineering." She paused. "Just that."

"That's big!" he exclaimed. "I don't…I don't have a college degree," he confessed, voice low.

She stopped, staring at him, her mouth gaped slightly. He turned to her, embarrassed. "You…you just finished high school?"

He nodded, not meeting her gaze. "I left home, and…and I've not seen my family since."

"Oh, Miguel," she murmured, and he glanced up, into her saddened eyes.

"I know, I know, it's a sad story, and all that crap, but…" He sighed, looking away and turning his taillights to her. "I don't want to hear it."

He jumped at a sense of feeling, and he tingled thickly as he found her nuzzling him. His headlights flickered on again, as bright as they would go. His insides tickled and his body tingled at the continuous touch.

"Then you won't," she murmured. "You won't."

Suddenly, his belly snarled, a rough rumbling, and she laughed in glee, staring at him with amusement. "Why don't we continue over dinner?"

Soon enough, they were settled in a secluded booth at a local restaurant, and were waiting for the orders to arrive.

"I was surprised, to tell you the truth," she told him apologetically. "And disappointed. But then again, some of my family haven't finished even…middle school, is that what it's called?" There was a pause. "I never really…adhered…to that kind of education. I mean, I'm sorry, but…that's what I've been raised with."

He felt dismayed she had such high standards. But a sort-of loyalty made him want to listen to more.

"For a few reasons, I've felt ashamed about my family," she continued. "I always thought my family was good, not necessarily perfect, but..all the same." Her eyes lowered, and he suddenly felt the sadness she must be feeling.

"Oh."

"I guess I was innocent then, influenced by movies that showed families that were complete, parents that were well-educated, children that were happy." There was a small pause. "It wasn't until I turned ten that I saw everything for myself, that I heard everything for myself. The world I thought was perfect suddenly…shattered.

"Suddenly, there were broken families, children without knowing their true parents, parents who never married, as in, with a contract. Suddenly, I knew what the consequences were. Suddenly….my family wasn't perfect." Her voice caught at the end, and she swallowed audibly.

"You don't have to tell me everything," he told her quietly. "I'm not looking for everything."

She stared at him, brown eyes sad, before she spoke again. "You know," she started voice weak, "you're the first one I've ever told. About this, I mean. I mean, about what I-what I feel about this…issue."

He stared at her. "Didn't you have any friends?"

"I had, but…none of them I could really trust to talk about this."

He felt touched he was the first one she turned to, as far as she told him.

"I'm sorry," he heard her murmur.

"Wait, what?" He seemed startled. "What are you sorry for?"

"For-for making you uncomfortable." She blinked at him. "I mean, aren't you?"

"No, not at all," he replied coolly, but even this didn't make her any calmer.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She seemed to falter in many ways, and she only turned away.

"Margo—"

"I'm sorry!" she whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," he said as he sided by her. "Don't be upset; you didn't do any harm."

But she only closed her eyes, breathing as calmly as she could. He continuously rubbed against her side until he felt her calm down.

"I truly am sorry," she said quietly. "I really don't like making other people upset because of me."

"Who does?" he murmured smilingly. "Look, you did nothing to upset me," he told her.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Positive."

She paused, and nodded. "Thank you for understanding."

"Quite willing to," he replied softly, but sort of thought she was high-maintenance. This made him disfavor her all of a sudden.

In their conversation, he'd learned she'd been changed in her past: from harsh words to a closed family life, to having the burden of her life since she was eighteen. She had very few friends. She was one of the very few to be truly accepted into her batch. Many have turned against her. She, too, had left her own family, or else, her family left her.

Her mother had chosen to stay back in her homeland, whereas Margo, innocent then, had chosen to go with her father, a diplomat, to go abroad. Later she'd learned her parents were to be divorced, and hated her father, right until he was involved in a massive crash. She'd never spoken to him again, just as her cousin had been. Her mother was lost, and was never heard of again.

She never continued about her family, because dinner had been over, and they were driving home.

He felt she was just a little…overreacting. She'd been reacting like a squeaky little girl the time they'd talked. She didn't seem like the mature woman he'd met, the one he'd imagined her to be: strong and able to handle almost everything. But no, she faltered at the thought of her family.

Just then, as they were driving down a dark lane, which was, unfortunately, the road back to her home, someone met them, and there was certainly no promise of a good meeting.

"Hey," someone growled low, and a black Camaro stepped into the light.

Suddenly, the A7 stepped forward, turning so her silver front formed a wall between the men. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she asked, voice low.

"Ooh, very voluntary," the Camaro hissed, stepping forth as well.

"Just drive away, and no one gets hurt," she snarled, eyes narrow.

"No one gets hurt, eh?"

"Margo, just—"

"Shut up," she hissed at Miguel. "Let me handle this." Louder, she continued, "What are you here for?"

"Oh, just driving around, when I saw you," he whispered the last word with such passion even Miguel swayed. The Camaro's brown eyes stared at her fiercely.

"So?"

"So?" he repeated in disbelief. "I'm here," he stated, and stopped to whisper in her ear, "for you."

"Mm," she murmured, "but my interest isn't in you."

But he didn't have the chance to continue, because she roughly nudged him away with such power it startled even Miguel, the Chevrolet's front rising a few feet in the air and backing away and the same length.

"So get out of our way, and you'll be fine," she snarled, and the Camaro raced away in fear.

"How did you do that?" Miguel whispered in awe.

"An A7 is relatively stronger than the Camaro," she told him. "I…I figured, so…yeah." She chuckled shyly. He only stared at her in awe as she continued. "But then again, you're stronger than I am."

He blinked. "I…I am?"

"You've had the proper training, then you've a racing engine, and then again, you're a grand tourer," she replied. "It makes sense."

"But you didn't have to—"

"The only thing about me is that I'm protective of guests, of family, of friends." Her eyes were strong but gentle. "I can't let you get hurt." She pressed closer to him. "I don't want you to get hurt."

He stared at her for a few moments, surprise in his eyes, then he softened. "Thanks."

"No problem," she replied quietly. "We better get home." With that, she turned and led the way back.

"Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" she asked him as they stopped at the Bernoulli home's doorway.

"I think I can manage," he said, quite amused. "I, after all, am a grand tourer."

She chuckled shyly, DRL's flickering slightly. "Well, goodnight," she told him.

"Goodnight," he replied. There was a moment of silence and awkwardness before she turned to kiss his fender quickly. She turned away to enter the home, but not before she cast him a last glance with a smile.

This stunned him to silence, and he chuckled, not wanting to yowl out his ecstasy. She may have shown herself to be quite high-maintenance, but there was another side of her he failed to see: a better, lighter side, one without too much trouble. And he liked that, he realized, as he returned to the hotel. And for the first time, he couldn't sleep because of his excitement and his happiness at the night's events.