Finally I can get on with my notes in my notebook! xD Ch.6 in just about two days? xD
I'm sure you'll find out, pizzachic. :).
Well, I did warn you at the start that there are suggestions, dear Mere. :) Hehe, thanks for that. xD
Thanks for that, Pancake! x3 D8 Oh, noes! I'm so sorry about that; I just thought blue eyes went pretty with sleek black~ x3
Chapter Six
He glanced at the windows that stretched up to the ceiling. Late afternoon had turned to twilight, which flowed to a quiet, cloudless evening. He then glanced around, and caught sight of a cute Z4. Would he be able to pull her away from prying eyes? Maybe, but only if he could actually get away from the group.
He'd been idling with his friends from the World Grand Prix, listening mildly, and, in some points, not even listening. His friends talked about nothing in particular; just things about their lives.
That night was the evening of one of Francesco Bernoulli's grand, special-occasion parties; this night, to celebrate his son's second birthday. Friends and family had been invited, and the gifts had piled up even higher than the young Formula's head.
The celebration consisted of a two-week vacation for special guests, namely the racers of the World Grand Prix, as well as close friends and family of the Bernoullis and immediate mutual friends between the racers and the family. The vacation consisted of beach days, tours around Porto Corsa and racing days at the local track.
He'd only come by to respect the invitation; he hadn't really planned on staying two weeks without his usual nightly freedom. He didn't want to leave Rip and Raoul alone, and he was encouraged to come as per his two friends' request. Well, maybe the fact that he wanted to celebrate Little Gianfranco Bernoulli's birthday was there, but it was only partial; he could have just sent a really big birthday present for the child.
"Miguel?" a voice snapped him back to reality.
"Hmm?"
"How's life going for you?" His friend, Rip Clutchgoneski, had spoken.
"Oh, uh, fine, I suppose."
"No girl to come home to?" Carla Veloso had spoken.
"No," he said sadly. "I can't seem to find the right one for me."
Beside him, Raoul ÇaRoule nudged him slightly with his tire. "I'm sure you'll find someone."
Miguel only shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."
"Don't give up, Miguel," Lightning McQueen told him. "Marlene found someone; why can't you?"
Miguel only smiled gratefully before a new car arrived to join them.
"Fellows," she said.
She said. He glanced up to see a pale silver Audi A7, whose eyes, oddly enough, were brown. Dark brown. They didn't match her color, or his lost brother's. But they were big, beautiful, innocent. For some reason, they were pretty.
But nobody could judge how much one can love based on eyes alone, nor based on what kind of car they were, nor on what color they were.
Everyone else murmured their greeting, some greeting her by name. But all he caught were murmurs; he couldn't exactly hear them all in the din.
"So Max, how's your project going?" she asked, eliciting conversation.
"I'm still sticking to my theory," the German said defiantly.
The silver Audi shrugged. "I'm telling you, the machinery won't work without a hydraulic mechanism. And it hardly rusts, too."
"I'm sure nuts and bolts will work," Max Schnell argued.
She rolled her eyes. "Sticking to old times won't help you these days; nuts and bolts will rust at the exposure of water and air. I think oil is better."
"What's the project?" Marlene Bernoulli asked.
"Mr. Schnell here is working on a bit of tech at a power plant," she told them. "Francesco—ahem, unfortunately—" the group laughed as Francesco rolled his eyes, "referred Max to me when he needed help." She glanced up in thought. "That didn't seem right." But she shrugged.
"Oh, so you're an engineer, too?" Raoul offered slightly.
"Mechanical engineer, to be exact," she replied proudly. "I have other bachelor's degrees and master's degrees, but I'm technically a mechanical engineer."
Miguel only blinked. She so was an engineer. She she can fix cars. But so what? There shouldn't be anything special about her. …should there?
"I don't believe I've met the rest of you," he heard her say as he listened mildly. "There's Max. Miss Carla. Rip and Raoul. Of course, there's Lewis and Jeff. How can I forget Lewis and Jeff?" she added in a half-mutter, and everyone else snickered. "And, well, there's Francesco and Lightning."
Raoul stared at her. "You…?"
"Yes, I was the one at my cousin Marlene's birthday party, you know, the one constantly stuffing my face with cake," she said, and the rest laughed at the memory. "How can you guys forget!" she exclaimed with mock hurt.
"That's Nigel Gearsley," Lewis pointed out, the green DB9 Briton nodding slightly, smilingly.
"Shu is…elsewhere," Rip said, and the others unsuccessfully tried stifling snickers at what the statement and what the 'if-you-know-what-I-mean' face implied.
"And this is Miguel Camino." Raoul nudged the golden grand tourer.
"I don't believe I've caught your full name," Nigel said in his formal British accent.
The silver A7 blinked. "My name is Margarita Rodriguez-Stevenson," she replied. "No second name," she added hastily, smiling.
Miguel's idle, indifferent stare flashed open wide. A few stared at him.
"Miguel?" Lewis called slightly. "Anything wrong?"
He blinked slightly. "No, I just…I just remembered something." He relaxed, staring at the A7, his gaze scrutinizing, as the group conversed once more.
How can an American hold such a beautiful name? That name was meant for a European like him, not some…girl that she thinks she could have! More and more negative thoughts started popping up in his mind, filling his heart with spite against her.
She stared at him for a small while before reversing. He scoffed. Good riddance, he thought, but a part of him wanted her to stay. The clash between his anger at her and at her leaving resulted in his frustration, and he hissed internally.
Suddenly, someone tapped at his taillights, and he reversed the see her there. He seemed relieved, but he wasn't.
"Hi," she said, almost shyly.
He blinked. "Hello." He wouldn't deprive her of the respect she needs; he doesn't even know her yet.
"You seem lonely," she stated. "You're not talking with the group."
"Well, maybe I just like to listen," her offered, irritation spiking in his tone. He was irritated she bugged him just to bring this up.
But she was barely fazed. "You were staring…elsewhere," she told him.
Busted, he thought. "Sometimes, I'm not in the mood to listen, or the subject bores me."
She blinked again. "Are you bored? Of their talk, I mean."
He blinked, too, his irritation fading. Being the critical car that he was, he knew what colorful phrases flew from willing girls' mouths. What was this one getting at? "Maybe."
She smiled. "Me too."
A corner of his mouth twitched, twirling in a small smile, his gaze relaxing. "Did you want a quieter place?"
Her tire extended to the side, gesturing to a direction. "A balcony, perhaps?"
A balcony? That was the last place Miguel would choose for a night! It was open to the public, and people would likely see them there. But she was one of the hosts; she was the one to lead no matter what happened. Discomfort surged though Miguel. He was always the one to lead in this kind of excursion; he preferred dominance over opinion.
Yet, to him, her slightly closed eyes and smile was inviting. Very inviting. He extended his own tire. "Lead the way."
She moved forward, turning to drive for the edge of the crowd. She glanced at him in her rearview mirror a few times. Soon enough, they reached the windows, and she pushed open two doors. They swung out, and she gestured to the open night air. He moved forward, and his vivid, fiery colors paled in the silver light of the quarter moon. The sounds of the party disappeared as he stared up at the night sky, the black dotted with the glittering grains of sand that were stars. He could hear the soft purr of her engine in the silence of the night as she sided by him. He glanced sideways at her, only to turn to face her.
Her pale silver paint caught the gentle rays of the moonlight, turning even softer in the moon's pastel radiance. She seemed to glow slightly, and he struggled to find an example to relate this to. What could it be…oh yes; it was like the luster of a silver pearl that caught the rays of the lights as it was displayed. Yes, that was right. She gazed up at the sky, and the angle in which he faced her was so right, he could see how the moonlight illuminated her brown irises, turning them from dark to milk chocolate.
His lips popped open slightly. She looked like Pearle under pale light, but she had his sibling's eyes: Bartolomé's milk chocolate eyes.
She glanced at him to find his awed green stare boring into hers. Her body prickled uneasily as she fidgeted in her shyness.
"So, what exactly did you want to talk about?" she asked awkwardly, glancing away and back.
He blinked and smiled. "About you, if you please," he murmured.
She chuckled timidly. "What did you want to know?"
He moved forward slightly, the corner of his bumper almost touching hers. H knew he couldn't start on her yet. He'd spent more time than usual; too much to actually do anything with her. But he didn't want to really get to know her; he wouldn't risk his heart again.
"Everything," he blurted out. "Anything."
She chuckled again. At least she hadn't seen his puzzled expression at his words. "You can't know everything in one night," she argued smilingly.
"But what if I told you I can?" he replied challengingly.
She narrowed her eyes at him, still smiling. "You can't."
"How would you know?" He glanced away s he brushed his tire over the marble floor, then back at her russet gaze.
She rolled her eyes. "A car's mind is like a computer's random access memory; most of the information is temporarily saved, just like reading a book. Even I can't remember the true details in a story in just one pass."
He chuckled this time. "Really?"
She nodded. "So, where did you like to start?"
"I don't know; did you want to start?" he shot back gently.
She blinked thoughtfully. "It seems cliché to start on interests," she told him.
"Is it?"
"Only if you think so."
This startled Miguel. The girls he's had always relied on him for the final decisions; they never asked his opinion on anything other than accessories.
He stared at her. "Maybe." He then stared out into the night. He hadn't faced a girl like this in years. "I used to love the night; so peaceful," he murmured unconsciously.
She stared out as he did. "'Used to'?" He nodded, and she continued. "For what reason?"
He glanced at her as she did at him. He guessed he could trust her. "I've had so much hardship in my life," he told her slowly, taking note of his words. \
"In what way?"
He winced as hurtful memories flooded his mind. "Heartbreak, loss, separation." Those words were broad, but contained much.
"Me too."
His gaze whipped back to hers, nearly astounded. No girl could have possibly related!
She glanced at him and saw his questioning stare. "My father died before I was twenty. I never saw my mother after fifteen. I haven't heard from my friends. And I never found love," she said softly. She didn't weaken or wince. "I mean, I haven't found myself a boyfriend yet."
"Not once?"
She shook he front. "Never."
He felt pity for her. He had his first relationship at the young age of fifteen, and he'd taken things for granted since. He hadn't known how living alone really felt. Tercio and Benedicto had been there nearly every step of the way. But there was another factor.
"No siblings?"
She shook her hood. "I'm an only child." She stared at him, smiling sadly.
He felt so sad right then and there. No one took care of her as she grew up. She'd been alone, whereas he'd had company all his life.
"The only friends I have now are you guys, my only family the Bernoullis," she put in, and he could see her windshield glisten under the pale light. "I provide for my new family as much as I can, even though Francesco can do that by himself." She chuckled at the last part. "You can say I've found family and friends now, and although it may sound cliché, I'm still looking for that special someone."
"…are you?" He seemed interested in that part.
"Yeah." She swallowed slightly, and there was a pause. "What about you?"
He blinked. "What about me?" Surely she didn't expect him to be the one for her right then and there, did she?
"I thought you had problems?"
"Oh." He stared out again, wishing he hadn't brought this up. "My, er, brother is lost."
"Oh. I'm so sorry."
She shrugged it away. "I'm sure I'll find him again someday."
"It must be sad to lose a sibling," she murmured.
"What do you know about it?" he retorted, his tone hard. He couldn't believe she was trying to be sympathetic; she didn't even know what it felt! "You're alone in this world, without an inch of an immediate family."
"My father was a great car!" she spat. "My mother loved me!" She blinked, and water ran down her fenders. "I can't believe I even tried being kind to you!"
His eyes widened in alarm. He hadn't meant it that way! "I'm sorry!" he called aloud, siding by her gently, his side against hers and eliciting comfort. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean any harm," he said in a soothing voice.
She glanced sideways at him, sniffling softly before blinking the wetness away. "Don't do that, please; I'm a little sensitive."
"I won't," he murmured, pressing close. "I won't."
His softness was all she needed for release. She sniffled again, and leaned on him. "It's been so hard, losing Dad," she told him. "No one to help me in college. I had to work so hard for my doctorate…," she continued, and he didn't do anything to stop her. "My mother…she believed I would be a great car."
"Hush, I'm sorry," he whispered as she cried for her lost parents. As far as he knew, his own were still alive and well, and he didn't send them so much as a note or a flower during a special day. "I'm sorry."
It was a few moments before she recomposed herself. "I'm sorry that happened."
"We all have our hardships, some worse than others," he replied.
She smiled gratefully at him before he wrenched himself out of her touch. He hadn't realized how he liked her length along his, her warmth against his, her softness in many aspects touching his heart and more. He stared up. Is she the one? he prayed silently.
He hadn't any news if his brother was dead or still alive, but a gentle breeze blew, making his body tingle in the cold, but his heart soothed slightly. He felt it was a sign.
He blinked. "I think I'll tell the rest next time."
She chuckled, and his spirits lifted. "Next time," she agreed.
He chuckled with her, and frowned slightly as he stared out. Why was it so engaging to talk to her? Why did he like talking to her? Why now did he open up his feelings to someone he just met?
"Are you alright?" he heard her say.
He glanced back to see her gaze of worried brown. "I'll be fine," he reassured her.
Reassured? Reassurance wasn't his thing; he was more commanding than that! He wasn't soft…or is he turning soft?
"I heard you were making the arrangements of the encierro already," she offered. "Well, not you, but…you get the point."
He stared at her with wide eyes. How can an American know about the Sanfermínes festival, and how can she pronounce it as a Spanish should?
"Isn't it a little early to be making the arrangements?"
He noted her eyes sort of shone at the mention of the tradition. "How do you know about the Festivál de San Fermín?"
She stared out awkwardly. "I've lived with Spanish culture all my life," she replied.
More and more curious…. "What country?"
She stared at him, surprise mild in her eyes. "Didn't you study Spanish colonization period?"
"I seem to have forgotten," he said sheepishly.
She shook her front with mock disappointment, but she smiled. "The Philippines had experienced three hundred years of the Spanish monarch, until we finally revolted."
"Did you ever wish that you hadn't revolted?"
Her gaze was amused. "Would I be standing here if we still were?"
His smile returned to his lips. "Good point."
They chuckled. "But why…uphold…the country that imprisoned you?" he asked.
"Because currently, it's better than ours."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Let's just say I have my reasons," she replied. "But I'll tell you one thing: I can't say no country or government is perfect, but after about sixteen years of living there, it gets…tiring."
"So you're…?"
"Filipino," she replied. "Even if I'm out of my country though, I'm still proud to be so."
He blinked questioningly, pointedly glancing a the insignia of Audi on her hood.
"Oh," she breathed, chuckling. "My father is Audi," she told him. "I rather inherited the manufacturer from him." She brushed her tire over the marble floor. "I'm more my father than I am my mother."
He nodded in understanding. "We were talking about you interest in the Sanfermínes Festival?"
"Oh, yes." She chuckled slightly.
"What about it that interests you so much?" He was eager to hear her opinion in the old sport and tradition he so loved.
"I don't know; I've always seen Spanish-style bullfights on TV, she said. "Upon research, the encierro is the one where the public is most involved. The festival seems fun, too."
He stared at her. She was a lot different from other cars. She was engaging to talk to, and they could relate to a lot of things.
"It's…engaging to watch," she replied, "even if the dozer is to be killed."
He glanced down to his tire as he brushed it over the marble, then back to her as he spoke. "Do you know what's the famous symbolism of the torero in romance?"
She met his slightly smiling gaze. "That he's looked up to as a hero, romantic or otherwise?"
She smiled at him, and he returned it with his. "What if I told you I was one once?"
Her eyes widened. "You were?"
He nodded, eyes serious yet smiling. "I was."
"Wow." She paused as she stared at him. "That's awesome."
"Is that so?" His tone may have been calm, but he was as startled as ever. She knew the glamorous and dangerous life of a matador, but she didn't know how much.
"Yeah, I mean, you get to prove your bravery times over," she told him. "And you get pined over your work," she muttered. Was that envy in her voice?
"Maybe, but you also get to risk your life," he replied as softly. He was slightly hurt.
"Oh." She seemed to be put in her place. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't know," he replied quietly. He stared at her, his green gaze gentle, and a corner of her lips twitched up slightly.
"You're nice, you know that?" she murmured.
His own maw stretched to a full-blown smile, but he didn't really know if he should take it in a good way or not.
Suddenly, the sounds of the party behind them intensified, and they reversed, turning, to see Marlene there.
"Margo?" she asked. "I've been looking for you."
The silver Audi cocked her front to the side. "What for?"
"I was worried when I found you away from Francesco's side," she said. "Buona sera, Miguel," she greeted the grand tourer.
Miguel dipped his front. "Buenas tardes, Señora Bernoulli."
Marlene only nodded at him in reply. "What are you doing out here?" she asked her younger cousin gently.
"Ah, er," Margo stammered, eyes wide, and her cousin put on a knowing look. "No! It's not that!"
"M-hm." Marlene's tone was suggestive and suspicious, and her expression was very amused.
"No!" the younger Audi cried out in panic.
The mother only laughed. "You know I'm just teasing," she told her cousin. "Now, won't you handle Gianfranco for a moment; I've been watching him for hours and Francesco is still entertaining."
Margo only laughed. "As usual."
"As usual," the mother agreed. "Now, Francesco is with his father, mind you."
"Will do,"she replied," and the mother went off.
"Well, I better go; Francesco will find it's no fun with his father," she added, chuckling.
He smiled. "Alright."
She nodded, excusing herself quietly. He bit his lip as his gaze followed her taillights. She'd earned his respect and his friendship in ways he hadn't thought of before, and the sensuality was not a part of it.
"Oh, and Miguel," he heard her say, and she turned to stare at him. His eyes widened in reply. "Have a good evening." She then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
His lip popped open slightly. Nobody ever said that kind of thing to him, at least, not in years. Things were getting more and more interesting, and Miguel couldn't pull himself out of the depths of curiosity he was in.
Bah! x_x Exhausted myself with dialogue! xD Is not sorry for long chapter! xDD
