Away we go

6-Spain

The elevator outside my suite dings and my breath hitches.

It had been two weeks since I have seen Carlos. Right after I ran away from the Silverstone track on that wild thursday, Carlos has called me multiple times. My inbox is flooded with his messages explaining everything about him and primarily why he did what he did.

So apparently my drunken confession on the night we first met in Monte Carlo didn't go down well with him. I don't even remember what I blabbered about but it was something along the lines that I hate cars and everything related to them.

If I say that it was just a stupid statement exaggerated by the effect of alcohol, I'd be lying. I, literally can't, for the life of me picture to be with a partner whose job is driving may be 200 miles per hour. I would be a constant mess of worries and won't be able to concentrate on my job or for that matter anything. I don't want a sword hanging on my head all the time. Its insane.

What's more insane is the fact that even though my mind was resolved on ending things then and there, I was unhappy. Terribly unhappy. I ignored every calls and messages for a week but then I started fighting over texts, making accusations, hurling abuses and taking out all my anger and frustration on him. He didn't try stopping me, he just kept persisting to meet up. Finally when the conference on identity politics came in, I told him I'll be in Madrid for three days.

And now he is here. Outside my suite.

There is a polite knock and the door swings open. I immediately stiffen and he displays the same gesture.

He throws his hand upto his chest. "Hey." His voice is low, deep and cautious.

My hand fidgets in air to hold on to something before I end up in the floor. It lands on the purse sitting on the cabinet by my side. "Hi."

Carlos glances over at it and then drags his eyes all the way up meeting mine. He then throws his black jacket over the back of the chair and sits down, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry Nina. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you. It's just...it's just when you told me that you hate cars and for the obvious reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell you who I was. And I know I am so stupid for doing that. But I am so sick of not being able to kiss you."

"I hope you know that you made me feel like a fool for the past two weeks which I don't happen to appreciate. Not getting lied to is a bare minimum in a relationship, for me. I rebuke the bare minimum. And you didn't even give me that. So you fucked up big time."

He gets up to stand close to me. "I know. I know all of it. I didn't mean to do any of that but I did, so I'm sorry and I will make it all up to you. Just please give me the chance,"he says, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close.

I lean into him further, hugging him. "Okay...alright. Another chance. But if you lie again, I'll superglue your balls to your ass while you're sleeping."

He laughs and it echos in my entire body.

I release him and sit down on the edge of my bed, picking at a finger nail. I have been neglecting my self-care for two weeks and now I'm in a desperate need of one. "I'm not joking. I'll do it."

He walks up to me and pull my chin upwards to face him. "In that case I'll not dare do any funny business again."

"You pinky promise?" I hold out my pinky to seal the deal.

"Pinky promise," he says, intertwining his.

The overwhelming feeling of fighting and sorting out, of two weeks of sleeping like shit and getting over it the next morning, of lowering my guards and building it up again and finally finding peace came crashing down on me. From soft sobs to downright howling, I started crying to let it all out.