the Devil and the Sea

69| Rage

All my muscles are tense, I urgently need a drink. I gave Vincent an ultimatum, and only now did I fully realize that he might not choose me. Not me.

I cover my face with my forearm. I want to be in the dark, but I see Vincent's face in front of me. His grin, the fire in his eyes, the beautiful curve of his lips.

What will he do?

Jesus is driving towards Barcelona. It's been about five minutes since we left Vincent standing alone outside my yard.

But I don't regret anything. Vincent has to break up with his girlfriend, I don't want to share him with anyone anymore. Damn, and these are my thoughts.

"You shouldn't be like that with him," Jesus' voice breaks the silence I want.

"I did not do anything." I sigh angrily in response.

"Yes Yes. That's why he looks at you with those eyes..."

Jesus pauses, looking in the rearview mirror.

"Those eyes?" I look at him lazily.

"It's like you hold the whole world in the palm of your hand."

Jesus looks worriedly in the side mirror.

"What?" That's all he can say.

The next second, we have a sportbike in front of us, and I recognize Vincent on it. He cuts us sharply and Jesus stops the car abruptly and I can hardly stay still.

Vincent followed me.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jesus yells down the window.

With a shocked expression on my face and my heart breaking out, I watch Vincent jump off the sportbike and walk resolutely towards the car. He opens the door on my side and holds out his hand to me.

"Come out." He demands in a calm voice.

"Dude, we are actually on the road, roll the sportbike to the side of the road and solve your problems." Jesus is outraged and turns on the emergency brake light.

"If you don't come out on your own, I swear I will force you out myself and you won't like it." Vincent is still calm and still does not remove the hand offered to me, but I can see how his nostrils dilate as he breathes. He tries to appear calm.

Jesus smirks, casting a curious glance at Vincent.

The need to confront Vincent makes my blood boil, but I stare into Vincent's burning eyes for a few seconds and after hesitating, I unfasten my seat belt. If I know Vincent well, then I believe that he complied with my demand, otherwise there is no explanation for this eccentric act of his. Grabbing my hand, Vincent helps me out of the car, closes the door behind me, and leads me by the hand to his sportbike. He hops on his sportbike and I want to be stubborn, but I feel it's not the time for that given our situation. So I hop on the sportbike and wrap my arms around Vincent's waist.

Vincent turns towards Sitges and, having let the oncoming car pass, he sharply goes on the gas, and at that moment behind me I hear Jesus signaling us goodbye.

Vincent picks up speed. Huge speed. We're going faster than ever, and he doesn't seem to want to stop. He maneuvers dangerously between cars that we occasionally meet on our way.

"Vincent, please slow down." I scream in his ear.

"Afraid?"

Instead of answering, I wrap my arms around him tighter and press against his back as hard as I can.

"Don't be afraid when you're with me." Vincent shouts so loudly that I can hear him.

But he does not slow down, but rather gains speed. We are flying over the road at great speed, perhaps the maximum that Vincent can squeeze out of his sportbike.