𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | 𝓟𝓮𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓟𝓪𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓵 |

10

The morning sun cast a golden hue over the tranquil beach, its gentle waves lapping at the shore like whispered secrets. With each step along the sandy expanse, I found myself retracing the events of last night, the echoes of unspoken words and lingering desires haunting my thoughts.

7 AM. Saturday. A day free from filming, yet burdened with the weight of emotions. My feet guided me unwittingly, until I realized with a start that I stood before Pedro's house. The urge to seek answers, to unravel the tangled threads between us, grew irresistible.

I knocked on Pedro's door, the sound echoing in the quiet morning. Minutes passed before the door creaked open, revealing Pedro in disarray - tousled hair, a sleepy countenance hidden behind a black t-shirt and grey shorts. My apology spilled out hastily, citing my obliviousness to the early hour, and Pedro graciously ushered me inside.

"Sorry to bother you so early, Pedro. I just couldn't stop thinking about last night," I admitted, my voice a mix of uncertainty and determination.

Pedro nodded, running a hand through his tousled hair. "It's alright, Cath. I was
up anyway." He opens more the door to let me in. "Do you want some coffee?".

"I'm okay thank you," he followed my steps once I got in, going towards the living room. "Pedro, about yestarday... ," I stopped myself and turned to face him.

"I don't remember a thing," he answered inmediatly. "Just let me apologize for anything I did say or done.".

"I mean, Pedro, you seemed pretty aware last night. Are you sure you don't remember anything?" I probed gently, hoping for a crack in his façade.

Pedro sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Honestly, Cath, I don't. It's all a blur."

He swept through his living room and saw an empty whiskey bottle on the table and the clothes he was wearing last night lying around the room.

"Sorry about the mess, I was really tired last night..... ," he hurried to pick up the living room, but as he bent down he immediately dropped the clothes again and sat down on the couch clutching his head in his hands.

I went over to him and knelt before him in concern. "Are you okay," I put my hands on his knees. "Pedro tell me what's wrong, why did you drink so much last night?"

He took a heavy sigh and run his hands through his hair. "It's nothing Cath, really, I got to watching something on TV and wanted to have a drink."

My gaze shifted for a second to the bottle on the table and then back to him. "Have a drink? A whole bottle?"

His gaze fixed on mine. "What did you come here for? To give me more headache pain?"

His words stung me a little. "I want to know what the fuck it was about last night on the bench in my garden."

"I told you I don't remember anything," she got up grabbing the clothes and the bottle with the glass and went to the kitchen. "Catherine I'm not in the mood for small talk right now."

"Can you behave like an adult," I asked, somewhat annoyed by his behavior. I got up to go to where he was. "Yesterday I felt something inside me, when your hand was placed on my cheek, for a moment I forgot everything, my past, my surroundings..."

He turnes his body and rested his waist on the countertop, this time with a more relaxed gesture. "I'm really sorry, but..."

Drawing closer, my hand rested on his chest, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric as if seeking the truth buried beneath. "Pedro, please," I implored, my tone serious and unwavering. "Tell me what meant that thing that happened last night"

His nervous gaze met mine, a silent plea for understanding mirrored in those dark eyes. Words hovered on the edge of his lips, yet silence prevailed, thickening the air with unspoken confessions.

"I wish I could give you answers, Cath," Pedro finally spoke, his voice tinged with regret. "Maybe it's best we forget whatever happened and move on."

A pang of disappointment mixed with confusion washed over me. "I understand, Pedro. It's just... it felt like something changed between us last night."

Pedro's expression softened, a hint of turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "Maybe it's the wine playing tricks on us, Cath. Let's not read too much into it."

A singular thought consumed me—a fleeting hope that perhaps his rapid heartbeat, his unreadable expressions, hinted at something more profound, something shared between us. It was a dangerous precipice upon which I stood, teetering between revelation and disappointment.

In a moment of vulnerability or reckless courage, I leaned in, lips poised to bridge the unspoken gap between us. Seconds stretched into eternity as Pedro remained immobile, unresponsive to the impulsive act that bore the weight of my uncertainties. My hand, still on his chest, felt how his heartbeat increased in the matter of seconds.

Reality crashed in harshly as I pulled away, the sting of rejection and embarrassment flooding my senses. What had I done? I, who prided myself on professionalism, on maintaining the boundaries of fiction and reality, had succumbed to a moment of weakness, of misplaced hope.

Without a word, I retreated, my steps quickening as if to outrun the shame that threatened to engulf me. The door closed behind me with a finality that mirrored the closing of a chapter, leaving me adrift in a sea of conflicted emotions.

As I distanced myself from Pedro's house, each footfall echoed the ache of shattered illusions and unspoken confessions. The morning sun, once a harbinger of possibilities, now bore witness to the fragility of desires unfulfilled and truths left buried in the sands of time.

To be continued...