Hello again fellows! I'm very sorry for deleting the chapters, but I just decided that an accident is too cliché and after reading several articles and books I just decided on different plot, something that will really justify whatever I had in mind from the start! Thank you for your endless support, even if I am on and off of the making of this!


Chapter Nineteen

It became routine after that: when he learned her schedule he would come by in the afternoons and they would talk over a café con chocolate or stroll on the streets under the warm Spanish sun. Both would speak of old memories and old songs and old jokes, all the while pushing the past and awkwardness away. They exchanged numbers just in case. At dusk they would part ways: he would return to the house and she would return to her studio apartment.

Although they knew that they would run out of things to say, things to actually ask. over a cup of mocha at a café, she asked a crucial question.

"So, what's she like? Pearle?"

He stiffened. What was he supposed to say?

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," she pouted. "Friends, remember?"

He nodded. "Right. Erm...she's nice, I suppose," he started slowly. "Supportive. Sweet. Lovely."

"Beautiful. Sexy."

He chuckled. "Yeah, there's that." He bit his lip. "Smart."

She nodded casually. "She seemed nice. You know, at the docks."

He nodded, too. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a high-pitched call.

"Rodrigo!"

Both cars glanced sideways to see a pearl-white Maserati approaching.

"Hey, amor," she greeted Miguel, kissing his lips before she regarded the A7. "And who's this?"

"Ah! Pearle, this is Margo. Margo, Pearle." The A7 nodded with a smile.

"Hello, pleased to meet you," she said.

Pearle smiled sweetly. "Hola, buenos días; no lo toque, ¿vale?"

Miguel sweatdropped; Margo's smile didn't fade. "No problema; no lo haré."

Pearle looked unamused. "Oh, ¿entonces habla español?"

"No, hablo italiano."

"Ladies, please." Miguel drove between the two girls that glared daggers at each other. "There's no need to fight."

Pearle turned away, fuming. Margo only smirked.

"Miguel," the A7 murmured, "you do realize that," she glanced up at him, without any hostility but instead with a soft smile, "putting two women together can merit a fight?" She smirked. "Especially when they're fighting for the same car?"

Miguel took an inch back. She was still fighting?

"I thought you-"

"-wouldn't touch him?" Margo continued for the Maserati that had whipped around to glare daggers. "I know." She plucked out a few euros for the bill before turning to Pearle. "He and I are just friends. So what? Am I that kind of a threat to you?

"So what if I'm also a girl vying for someone's attention? It doesn't mean that I'm asking for love." At Pearle's gritted teeth the A7's gaze turned innocent. "Oh, did you think I was after that? After his love? No." She shook her head, glancing away before smiling softly. "I'm much too busy for that. Now, I have to go." She glanced sideways at the wall clock. "I have a meeting at six and it's five-thirty already! It was nice meeting you, Pearle, and I had a fantastic afternoon, Miguel." She nodded in her thanks.

"¡Adios, mis amigos!" she called as she darted away.

"Miguel!" Pearle snapped. "Why are you seeing another girl!"

"So what? She's a friend."

"The way I saw it, it was like she was more than that!" She turned around. "I never want to catch you with that girl ever again, Rodrigo! Do you understand?" And with that, she revved away.

Miguel sighed, frowning. "What am I going to do about those two?" Confusion had settled in, but he couldn't help but smile at the encounter.

She was still her fiery, philosophical self.

And Pearle was becoming jealous.

Suddenly the game was much more interesting, much more risky, the stakes higher than ever. The thrill of it excited him, and he smirked inwardly. It was like that time with the women and the press and keeping everything else a secret…. And so, he decided…

...he would continue seeing Margo, no matter what the cost.