𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ★ pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚, pedri

❝ i had the time of my life, with you. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

We just ordered our food. I watch Olive who's admiring the view through the floor to ceiling window right next to us.

"It's really pretty." She exclaims, in woah of the view of Barcelona from up here. We're pretty high so she can see a pretty good part of the city, which is indeed pretty at night.

My eyes still on her, I concur. "It is." Even though we're not talking about the same thing, they're both pretty. One much more than the other, but how can you compare the city of Barcelona to the most beautiful woman known to mankind?

"Wait," She turns and looks at me again, her eyebrows frowned. "Did you just do that thing where I say the view's pretty and you say it is while looking at me?" She asks.

I chuckle. "So what if I did?"

"It's cringe." She answers, tilting her head a little.

"It's cute." I argue. It is a little bit cliché. Yet, I can't help but feel romantic tonight.

I've never been much of a romantic. But I woke up this morning and I just had the urge to take her out and let her blow off some steam.

Pablo and Isa helped me a lot. I'm not great with dates. I'm the best at the after part, no argument in that.

She hides her face, looking back at the view to avoid me. "Shut up." She blushes clearly.

If we're being honest. In my entire couple of months of knowing Olive, I have never, ever, thought I would be the one to bring out her soft side.

But, now that I did. I cannot imagine her being mean and annoying and cruel to my face. I've gotten too used to her blush and smile. It's addicting.

I'm not really sure what to say now. Women usually throw themselves at me, talking about nonsense just until we get to the part where we're in bed.

"Liv?" She snaps my way, her eyes asking me what's wrong in a way. "When's your birthday?" I ask out of the blue.

I have zero idea when the woman was born. I only know she's the same year as me, that's where my knowledge ends. She never told me, how was I supposed to know? Guess? We're not telepathic.

She giggles at my question. It is random. "Twenty fourth of November." My mouth basically drops open. Her eyes widen looking at my shock. Maybe we are telepathic after all? "What's wrong? Are you scared by the number twenty four?" She jokes.

"At what time were you born?" She just looks at me weirdly for a while before answering, hesitantly.

"Umm, ten forty eight pm. Why?"

"You're seven hours older than me." I explain. Yep. I'm born on the twenty fifth of November at around five am.

Now her mouth drops open, a smile still playing on her lips as she hears the information. Wait, Isabel must've noticed that. Yet, she never told us anything about it.

She then changes her reaction to disgust, gritting her teeth together. "I'm sorry, I think this date should end here, I'm not sure I feel comfortable with the woman being the older one in this relationship." She pretends, and slowly starts standing herself up, looking me up and down.