Where the Stars Fall

19 | The truth

SO, MUCH TO MY OWN surprise, here I am. Back in Spain.

I've never been the guy who sits back and waits anyway, so screw it if life kicks me in the balls again. I do believe sometimes you just need to make the moment happen before something great is lost for good, and that's it. There won't be any strategic exits out of this.

I'm on the Airport Express bus, on my way to the city centre, and the truth is it feels like I'm a glorious train wreck, going 190 miles an hour heading down the wrong path. Or that I'm about to enter a stage-five epic mess, already knowing I'll be crushed.

Leaning my head against the headrest, I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself down.

Finally, I arrive at the crowded Catalonia Square and head down to Las Ramblas, the long pedestrian walkway that runs through the heart of the city centre and stretches up until the marina, offering you a fabulous view over the Mediterranean.

The image I retain in my memory from ten years ago has remained pretty much unchanged. This is definitely the place where you'll get the pulse of Barcelona. It's so full of life and rhythm, permeated with a special energy that's incredibly vibrant and dazzling at the same time.

I mingle with the huge mass of locals and visitors that promenade up and down the boulevard, and immerse myself in it, my eyes on the multitude of tapas cafés, flower stalls, bird sellers, ice-cream stands, street artists and living statues, which almost distract me from the outstanding architectural details of the buildings above.

But why did I come here anyway?

The excuse I've given myself is that this is the only place I know where I can get her flowers. The truth, however, is that I still need some time to hit pause and think it over again, before it's too late, before I find myself standing in front of her like a fool, unable to say anything coherent.

I wander into the historical Boquería food market to grab a bite to eat and sit for a while. I need to think of a line or two to write on the flowers card.

As soon as I pass through the old iron gate, I'm again struck by its charm and vibe, and can't help glancing around amazed, as if it were my first time here. So picturesque – the grand highlight of the street for many – this market is certainly a world apart.

The colourful fruit stands, the intense smells of fresh bread, spices and smoked ham, the loud voices of the animated stall holders, all mingled with the indistinct chatter and laughter of bustling tourists, almost overload my senses.

I'm so dazed I nearly bump into a guy who's carrying a pig carcass right underneath my nose. Surreal, really. Like a Dalí painting.

Surreal is also what I'm about to do: try to win over a woman I believed I'd long buried in the deepest layers of my memory. But I guess life is like that, fully unpredictable.

After finding a place to sit down, I lay the colourful bundle of flowers on the table and grab a pen.

For a while I just keep staring at the blank card, oblivious to the chaos and cacophony around me. I'm clueless. I've absolutely no idea of what to write.

Lovingly yours?

You take my breath away?

I'm head over heels for you?

When I see you, I think 'Good job, God'?

Idiot.

The thrill of anticipation mixed with the fear of frustration is coursing through me in such a wild frenzy, I can barely hold myself together.

I take a long, deep breath and look around again, trying to gain some control over the situation before it takes me over completely and I give up.

My eyes rest on a young couple seated not far from me. They're holding hands across the table, smiling and staring at each other, as if they were the only two people in the world, totally unaffected by the bustle around them. In a soft and tender gesture, he tucks a stray strand behind her ear and runs a finger along her cheek before he whispers something that makes her blush. Their moment is only interrupted by some funny remark of an employee who's sweeping the walkway behind them. The girl giggles nervously.

And I find myself smiling inwardly too, though I have no idea of what's going on there. The only thing I know is, whether we choose to admit it or not, every man wants to be that guy, to be with someone who makes them feel like they're the one.

'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly. I love you because I know no other way', pops into my mind as I shift my eyes back to the card.

I could actually borrow Pablo Neruda's line and write it down. In fact, it was Olivia who once wrote it to me, maybe I could return the thought today.

Or maybe not. That'd be probably too much, it would freak her out before I even had the chance to open my mouth and say something.

I keep staring at the empty piece of paper, my pen tapping erratically against the table. I'm equal parts thrilled to see where this goes and scared stiff of her reaction.

I take a large gulp from the bottle of sparkling water and run an impatient hand through my hair.

Okay. Let's be objective: I'm a guy, and in the end, guys always think in a straight line, they always go from point A to point B, no circling around. It's a pretty basic paradigm.

That said, and for everyone's sake, especially mine, I might as well assume I can't stop thinking about her, I don't want to either, and that this whole thing is messing me up like no one would believe.

So I'd better paradigm-shift my arse into this as well and immediately take some action. Even if I know beforehand that the oh-crap-what-are-you-doing-here look I fear to see on her face – or even worse, her telling me she's back with Whatever-His-Fucking-Name-Is – will all hit me like an iron fist straight to my face.

Almost midday, I check on my mobile. I might as well write the truth:

'I miss you.

More than any words could say.

More than I thought I would, ever again.

Love, Brian'

* * *

Thanks for coming back! Hope you're enjoying Brian and Liv's journey so far.

So, he's about to knock on Liv's door. Eager to read about it?  Stay tuned, I'm posting the next chapter on Friday!

Until then, I'd love if you could add this book to Goodreads (link in the comments). And maybe add a brief review?

Thank you!  

xo, Ana