Used to Be | Sergio Agüero

chapter twelve

sara

"So, where are we going?" I asked Mark, who had his eyes on the road. He had just picked me up from the training center.

"I told you this morning," he smiled a bit and rolled his eyes.

"You said it was a surprise," I looked at him.

"Exactly, my love," he glanced at me and grinned. "I promise, you'll love it."

I pouted before he looked away.

"Your pouts will never not be cute," his smile grew. Then he stopped and teased, "Now stop distracting me, Sara. My eyes are supposed to be on the road, not on you."

I laughed, "Excuse me, Mark Millen," I said, pretending to be offended, "I didn't tell you to - "

"Quiet!" he tried not to smile, "I am trying to drive, and I need a lot of concentration."

"I need a lot of concentration," I mocked.

He chuckled.

"Need gas," he mumbled under his breath. Then, louder, he said, "Stopping at a gas station. Get the white bag in the back and go to the bathroom."

"Why?" I asked.

He smiled a little, "For later. Don't want you prancing around in that work attire."

I looked down at what I was wearing. A Manchester City jacket, sweatpants, and running shoes. "Okay, fine."

I reached for the white bag in the back seat of the car. It was a plain, white paper bag with no brand on it whatsoever.

"Tut tut, Sara," Mark said, "don't open it yet."

"Better not be lingerie, Millen," I joked.

"Well shoot," he laughed. "I was taking you to a strip club!"

I elbowed him and he laughed more, "You are so bloody annoying."

When we stopped at the station, I quickly went to the restroom and locked myself in the stall. I opened the bag and found myself in incredible awe.

As I reopened the stall, I saw myself wearing the red dress Mark had given me. He also got me new heels, which I decided I would put on in the car.

"Well, look at you," I grinned when I got back in the car.

Mark was dressed in a dark grey suit. Upon seeing me, he started biting his fist. "Should not have done that."

"Done what?" I said.

He kissed my cheek, "I'll get even more distracted now."

I put on my make-up as he drove to wherever we were supposed to be.

"We're here," Mark exhaled as the car stopped.

* * * *

Mark had taken me to my favorite restaurant in all of London. It was a Spanish cuisine restaurant which reminded me of home.

"What's the occasion, Millen?" I smiled at after our orders were taken.

He made a face, "Is it illegal to take my girl out for fun?"

"You're totally up to something," I raised my eyebrow.

"Ouch," he joked, "so are you saying I'm never nice?"

"Mark - "

He interrupted me, "Sara Cacères, I stopped trying to get into your p - "

"I'm joking, Mark!" I laughed.

He kissed my hand and squeezed it, "I just wanted to see you make yourself beautiful tonight."

"How sweet of you," I rolled my eyes.

He laughed. "You're always beautiful."

"Are you expecting a compliment in return?" I asked jokingly.

"No," he shook his head before smirking. "I already know I'm always beautiful."

I threw my head back in laughter and slapped his arm.

He held my hand close to his lips. I felt his warm, steady breath as we sat in silence.

"Sara," he said.

"Yes?" I perked my head up and looked at him.

His glasses were misaligned, as always, but he didn't notice. "Just wanted to see your eyes," he smiled.

"You're a weirdo," I stuck my tongue out.

"If I had your eyes," he said. "You would never stop looking at me, Cacères."

One time, Mark almost spent half an hour trying to figure out what color my eyes were. It was a battle between grey, blue, and green. He got so incredibly frustrated, because, according to him, eyes should never be so confusing.

The night went on. A few drinks and dances later, I was sure that I was having the best night of my life. Mark was saying all the right things, making all the right moves, and everything was perfect.

We stood in the veranda of the restaurant. The cool wind messed up Mark's hair. I couldn't help but bite my lip and think to myself, He is the best thing on this earth.

He was first to speak, "Where do you think we will be in ten years?"

"You mean when I am thirty-six," I clarified.

"And I thirty-seven, yes," he nodded.

I thought about it. "Married with a kid or two. Plus, a dog. And I will be the world's greatest physiotherapist with the world's fittest commercial director."

He laughed, "The world's fittest commercial director, huh?"

"A person would be mental to think you are anything other than fit."

"That's an awful lot of compliments from you tonight."

"Maybe it's the drinks," I teased.

He cupped my face, "You are so in love with me."

"And you," I replied, "are a narcissistic arse."

"Still baffled as to how you know so many big words," he smiled a bit.

* * * *

"I had one hell of a night with you, Sara," Mark smiled at me as we stood in front of my door.

"As did I," I replied, bringing my lips to his.

After we pulled away, he squinted at the end of the hallway. "Do you see that?" He let go of my hands.

I turned my head to see, "See what?"

"And you say I'm the blind one."

"I'm not the one with a grade of 350."

When he didn't retort, I turned back to face him.

There Mark Millen was, down on one knee.

"Sara Cacères, will you... will you marry me?"

With my hand over my mouth and tears starting to fill my eyes, I nodded.