Away we go

7-Spain (II)

The following day I was invited by Carlos to watch a horse racing event. I had agreed. As long as there aren't people racing in high speed cars or bikes, I'm fine with it.

Since the event was supposed to be a high society affair I had asked Carlos for pictures from a previous one, he happened to have attended, to get an idea of what women wore in these things.

Carlos was coming to pick me up from the hotel I insisted on to stay. I wanted to take things slow after the bomb like information had exploded over me and to give him credit, he did understand. So long story short, instead of spending the night with him, I spend it with a book and green tea on the side. The used teabag found its second purpose when I placed it over my eyes after chilling it in the mini fridge for a while.

Sometimes beauty makes you look ridiculous.

I take my sweet time getting ready and putting in extra effort to make up for the past days of being bad- diet, sleep and skincare wise.

My lilac dress fits like a dream sans the tummy area that is slightly out because of fast food gobbling lately and the hair updo is chic. Keeping the makeup to minimal, I adjust the straps of my heels, when there's a knock at the door.

As soon as I open it, he's pushing his way inside, his movements hurried.

"Fans outsi..." He cuts his sentence midway and gasps, his hands again doing that gesture that makes my heart quicken.

I beam at him and before I could tease him over his cheesy gestures, his mouth crashes on mine.

My heart does a flip flop.

Carlos grabs my shoulders, making me level his gaze with mine. "You're not staying another night alone okay." His eyes looks like a pools of honey glistening with so many emotions.

I bury my face in his navy blue blazer and inhale his scent. "Okay."

We arrive to the arena after half an hour ride and make our way to a red carpeted stairway that lead to a hall adorned with a big centre table with chairs around. Carlos catch me chewing on my bottom lip.

Leaning on my side he squeeze my hand and whispers,"You'll be fine. Don't worry."

He is right, I shall not worry but events like these where everyone looks important,ups my nerves a notch for no particular reason.

The walls of the hall adorns unique artwork of Victorian era and a big open balcony was across the table, overlooking the race field.

I grab a champagne flute and make my way to the balcony taking in the vast view ahead of me. The stands are just down the balcony where people chatted, searched for their seats and held coke and ranch sauce with nachos. The utter contrast of the economic difference was not lost upon me. I am grateful that I get to experience this from the VIP section but truth be told, if I ever came to events like this on my own, I would have paid for the stands as well.

The live music begins playing in the corner, with the musicians dressed immaculately for the occasion. I shift my attention to them enjoying the violin and piano and other instruments I can not name.

I was so lost in the music that I did not notice Carlos coming on my side until he plants a kiss on my temple. Along with him, three unknown people stands with us. I look at him cluelessly.

His eyes shine. "My parents," he says gesturing at the older couple. "And my cousin Jose," he says, looking at the man who looks the same age as Carlos.

I think I am going to die. He never mentioned that we were meeting his parents. God forbid not preparing for something would be the death of me. I'm mortified.

And then if that was not enough, I do the absolute unthinkable. I courtesy at them like they are some Spanish royalties.

All three of them narrows their eyes at me quizzically and Carlos chuckle at my side.

"What are you doing?"

I breath, feeling a little sick. "I don't know. I have never met somebody's parents and I kept thinking you are old money rich and then I was thinking about this Victorian setup and you all look like royalties, so in my mind I just picturised all of you as royal Spaniards and hence the courtesy." I rant.

All four of them are laughing now. And I want to jump outside the balcony.

Carlos mom comes forward and pulls me in a hug. "I love her."

"I'm sorry. He didn't tell me I was meeting you all. I would have been prepared," I tell them. My face is burning with embarrassment.

"That would have been a shame. We wouldn't have gotten a courtesy then." Carlos father says and all of them burst into another round of laughter but this time I join in as well.

After few minutes of casual chatting, they all left us and went their ways to meet and greet other people. The hall was now packed and the noises of laughing, talking, metal clicking with background chorus of live music and people below at the stands filled the ambiance. The race had begun.

"My knees are wobbling," I mention to Carlos as he tucks me in his arm, his hand draping my shoulder.

His hand begins to ascend and lands on my ass cheek. He gives it a squeeze, startling me. "Ohh yeah?" His brown eyes meet my slightly amused green ones and they seem to darken even more. That was a little slutty and I was thanking Jesus that we were facing the hall and its people and not the race.

He downs the rest of my champagne and we throw a casual glance at the race before mingling with the crowd again.

Money, class and status radiates in the room and by the time the evening ended my shoulders were slumping and I was sliding instead of walking, putting all my weight on Carlos' hand.

It was also when I almost didn't listen to what his long time friend and a fellow F1 driver was saying at the moment.

Almost.

"...we thought he was a goner after Annalisa but thank God."

Now I'm a journalist. I have keen eyes for catching details. Carlos is a F1 driver. He has an uncanny ability to notice things at lightning speed. We both didn't miss that small peice of detail that wasn't shared between us.

I despise immaturity so I wasn't going to react as if this was a brand new information for me and throw him under the bus. I was also not going to corner him. Instead I am hoping he would explain it later when the time and place was appropriate.

It's noontime and I'm sitting on a bench outside the glass room where Carlos is playing squash. Ofcourse he plays squash. And ofcourse he looks deadly handsome while doing it. But it didn't skip my notice that he still hasn't mentioned who the fuck Annalisa was.

Trust is a fickle thing. And it doesn't come easily or naturally to me. I spend my time studying diplomats and politicians for crying out loud. I am programmed to mistrust people. And so its important for me that he comes clean.

"You're giving rich mafia vibes." I tell him as we leave from the club. He has changed into an all black attire; black t-shirt, black jacket and jeans.

He chuckles and mimics shooting. "I need a gun."

"Is it a prerequisite to be devilishly handsome to drive the scarlet car?" I tease. People are throwing us glances and taking pictures at a distance. As much time as I spend in front of camera, I'm oddly awkward when its not for my work.

He rolls his eyes in answer.

I prod. "Tell me, the girls are swooning."

Instead he tucks me closer as we make our way to the hotel.

All the images and then some more from our stroll in the city to him sitting in his bathrobe on our hotel bedroom are flooding my Instagram. People keep tagging me and making reels of us on some popular love songs.

I sit on the couch scrolling reel after reel, upset about this whole ex girlfriend resurfacing issue but I also don't want to talk about it. Because it might be possible that I'm just overreacting. Maybe its just that. An ex girlfriend. But the way his friend mentioned it makes me think if it was too serious that they couldn't comprehend him with someone. Because if it was, I would like to know.

So I just sit there and pout.