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"STARTING YOUR BROODING ALREADY?" Pilar's soft, teasing voice pierced the rhythmic beat of the VIP area.
"No," Guzmán mumbled, sounding like a small child, but neither of them were fully convinced of his answer.
"You look like a Bond villain, Freckles," she sighed, placing another drink in his hand and swiftly kissing his cheek. "Here. Against my better judgement."
Guzmán looked down at the drink and smiled to himself, before grabbing a glass of champagne off the table in front of him and sliding it into Pilar's hand. "I got your favorite, too. Against my better judgement."
The two stood wordlessly next to each other for a few moments, watching the crowd below move to a completely different song than the one bursting through the speakers in their VIP area. Neither were particularly in the mood to party, and Guzmán began to notice Pilar's wilted stance. Most people wouldn't see the slight sag in her posture or the hidden tiredness in her eyes, but Guzmán knew his best friend like the back of his hand.
He softly bumped their shoulders together and looked down at her with a sad smile on his face. "He's gone again, isn't he?"
Pilar delicately sipped on her champagne and looked down solemnly, hoping the fizzy bubbles would improve her mood. "Left another note on the counter."
Instantly, Guzmán grabbed Pilar's glass out of her hand and set both their drinks down on the table. Before she could even register what was happening or protest to his actions, Guzmán was pulling her to the dance floor, twirling her around and doing his best not to step on her toes. Like Marina, Pilar loved to dance. However, like Guzmán, she was completely terrible at dancing. No matter how hard the two friends tried, no matter how many lessons they had, Pilar and Guzmán were plagued with two left feet. But that never stopped them from making fools of themselves on the dance floor.
When they were children, Pilar would stand on Guzmán's feet, and he would spin them around her kitchen, with Ander, Polo, and Pilar's mother cheering them on. Guzmán smiled fondly at the memory, their high-pitched laughter echoing in his mind.
Dancing could always make Pilar smile, and although Guzmán was in a sour mood, he wanted to do everything in his power to see his friend smile. All three of the boys knew how much her father hurt her whenever he left, and each took turns trying to cheer her up. Ander was always the best at it though.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Pilar's glossed lips, as she and Guzmán swayed their hips. From across the room, Ander and Polo chuckled at their friends' off beat dancing and gleefully rushed over to join them. Soon, all four best friends were drunkenly giggling, singing, and dancing. The soles of their shoes pounded against the club's floor as they spun and jumped around.
For a moment—just a moment—they were the same four teenagers as the year before. It was a blissful moment of false happiness. But it all came crashing down the instant Guzmán saw Samuel descend down the stairs for the second time that day. The group's joy quickly faded, their eyes clouding with different emotions. Once again, a furious Guzmán rushed towards Samuel. Polo gently grabbed Pilar and pulled her behind him, as Ander and Valerio attempted to break up the impending fight. More people—including Lu and Nadia—flocked around the two, who were now angrily shouting strings of curses and threats at each other.
