Chapter 29
ALEJANDRA
we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - Ariana Grande
“So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to pry the information by torturing you?” Alejandra asked her brother as they walked toward the car after breakfast at Nereid, her favorite coffee shop in Ericeira.
The smell of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries still lingered in the air behind them as the morning crowd slowly filled the terrace.
She had grabbed some pastries and a hot coffee to deliver to Callum too, but even though she wanted to basically dart to him, she was not going to waste that opportunity to investigate what the hell was going on with her brother.
Ester had stayed back at the villa, invited by Sofia to do some yoga with her and Amira. So, they were alone.
She had waited for him to mention something during breakfast, but he had just blabbed about swell conditions—which overall she loved, but not when she could not ride that swell.
“What?” Carlos asked, glancing at her.
“How is it possible that you are such a terrible flirt, and yet an amazing liar?” Alejandra joked, noticing how her brother had carefully kept his expression neutral.
“What do you want to know, Ale?” Carlos sighed, refreshing his man bun with a quick tug.
“Are you and Ester back together? Is Amira forgotten? Who owns your heart, hermano?”
Carlos sighed again, longer this time. “I preferred it when you were self-centered with surfing and did not care about my personal life.”
“Hey, that is not true! I have always been nosy about your personal life,” she grinned. “The difference is that you had none prior to this exchange I have noticed with Ester.”
Carlos took a deep breath, staring ahead at the parked car. “We are trying to get to know each other, but the problem is that—Por Dios, I am so pathetic.”
Alejandra studied him carefully. “Pathetic?”
“I cannot stop thinking about Amira,” he sighed, looking as flustered as he sounded. “And Ester noticed.”
Her eyes widened. “Mierda.”
“Yep.” He made a very dramatic groan, dragging a hand over his face. “So now she told me she does not want to try anything with me if I have Amira on my mind. And well, Amira does not notice me besides calling me old man… so, yes, I am back to being single and lonely.”
Alejandra patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I am sorry, but maybe you could gather some courage and actually talk with Amira. You know?”
Telling him she had looked annoyed by Ester’s presence was not an option. She did not want to keep his hopes high, considering he was already grasping for every possible thing Amira did.
“That would destroy our friendship.”
“Do you even have one?”
Carlos shrugged helplessly. “I just… fuck, I do not know, Ale. Why can’t I have it easy like you with that accountant?”
“His name is Callum, and it was not that easy.” Then she cocked her head thoughtfully. “Do you want me and Ilias to intervene?”
The pure panic painted on his face told her it was a terrible idea.
“Absolutely not. You mind your own business.”
“It is because of me that Sofia and Ilias are married. You should give me more credit.”
“No, Ale. Fucking no,” he declared as they reached the car.
Carlos drove them in silence toward Ribeira das Ilhas, where the competition was being held. The cliffs and the endless Atlantic stretched beside the road, waves rolling in with the kind of swell that made Alejandra’s chest ache.
As soon as they arrived, she headed for Callum’s stand, leaving Carlos sulking in his own emotional disaster.
If he did not want to be helped, then let him be.
Whenever she had spare time, or whenever she felt she was about to panic, it had become a habit during those days to go and check how Callum was doing.
It was her excuse to escape questions about her injury and her future comeback, or an attempt to drown out the records her friends were beating while she sat on the sidelines.
She knew it sounded childish, and yet somehow her competitive mind could not handle being stuck with that sling, trapped in that strange impasse of doing absolutely nothing.
And so, pestering Callum had become her escape.
And she was very glad Sofia had invited him there.
As she walked from the parking lot toward Lamina’s stand, one bag full of food hooked on her arm and a small tray balancing two coffees—she truly hoped a typical café con leche would be his thing—she spotted him.
And a woman leaning against the counter.
Clearly flirting. Pushing her breasts forward and batting her lashes like she was in the middle of a soap opera.
Even that stranger could win a flirt battle against her brother.
Callum, however, stood straight. Not leaning in. Definitely not giving her the same look he gave Alejandra.
When his eyes caught hers, his entire face lit up.
The woman turned to see who he was smiling at, and instantly went full Medusa glare.
“My love,” Callum said, his voice extra loud, extra Welsh, and extra sexy as he sent her a pointed look. “You are finally here.”
She blinked.
That my love with the accent?
Yes. That definitely did something to her.
Recomposing herself, she walked up, smile in place.
“Hello, carino. I brought you coffee and food.”
“Giorgia, this is my girlfriend, Alejandra. The one I have been talking about,” Callum said, exiting the booth to help her with the coffee tray.
He pulled her into a careful bear hug, murmuring near her ear, “Please help me out here.”
Oh. So it was like that.
She nodded once, then leaned in and kissed his cheek—the sluttiest cheek kiss in history, lips brushing so close to the corner that it almost was not one at all.
The tension between them had been building for days, every conversation crackling with what neither of them was saying out loud.
“Hi, I am Alejandra. Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her good hand.
The woman looked stricken.
“I—I did not know he was taken. I would never—nevermind. Enjoy your food,” she stammered, cheeks flushed, and bolted.
Alejandra shrugged her good shoulder, the other reminding her painfully that she could not move it at all.
“Rude of her not to introduce herself, don’t you think, carino?”
Callum chuckled, running a hand through his cropped hair. Her fingers itched to do the same.
“She has been harassing me for the past few days. I told her I had a girlfriend to get her off my back, but she was not buying it. You, though? You scared her off like a goddess of wrath. For that, I am forever grateful, my savior.”
He bowed dramatically, grabbed her right hand, and kissed it.
Innocent gesture. Not-so-innocent eye contact. The kind that whispered: I remember how you sound when you come. Why did she suddenly want to be against the wall? Or on top of the table? Or anywhere, really, as long as he was inside her again.
“I do not know why she was scared of me,” she murmured, swallowing hard.
Do not think about him between your thighs.
Do not—
Too late.
“You have got this ‘I am-about-to-kill-someone’ shoulder injury vibe. People recoil from it.”
“You don’t.”
“I am not people, Alejandra,” he replied, low and steady. Then, leaning in slightly, “Besides, I know how soft you really are.”
Joder. That line should not sound sexual. And yet—it did.
She gulped. He smiled.
“Did you bring me food?” he asked, casual as ever.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I guessed.”
“I eat everything,” he said, and his tone was definitely not innocent. Her mind instantly flashed to the way he had eaten her last time. Slowly. Thoroughly. With a dedication that had made her see stars.
She nodded, mentally screaming.
“So, what’s today’s plan?” he asked, already unwrapping his sandwich.
“Just going down to the Athlete Zone to watch the heats. Finals are tomorrow, so it is getting intense.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“Should you not be working?”
“I repeat,” he said, smiling, “those kids can handle themselves.”
“I would really appreciate it,” she replied, heat crawling up her neck.
“On one condition.”
She arched a brow.
“You keep calling me that very sexy name in Spanish.”
“Alright, carino,” she said, playing along.
“What does it mean?”
“Sweetheart. Or something like that.”
“So… can I call you that?”
“If you want.” Her cheeks betrayed her, flushing red.
He leaned closer, voice low, smug, dangerous.
“I think I will call you cariad.”
Her brows knitted. “What does that mean?”
“Love. Darling. Sweetheart in Welsh.” He paused, his gaze narrowing slightly on her mouth. “If you call me carino, I will call you cariad. Deal?”
“Sure. But why?”
He did not answer.
He simply moved into her space, fully invading it, making her tilt her head back to look up at him. His large frame shielded her from the outside view. One hand found her neck, angling her chin gently.
His lips brushed hers, not quite a kiss, but enough to burn.
“Because we slept together, cariad,” he whispered, voice hoarse and slow. “We slept together, and we loved it. And I think it is time we started admitting that.”
Her entire body went electric. The pressure of his hand was not rough, just firm. Possessive. Her breath hitched.
“Y-yes. I think we should.”
His thumb ran slowly along her lower lip.
“Good girl. I knew you did not forget.”
How could she possibly forget? She was soaked just from that. Then voices. The volunteers returned. Callum stepped back, easy and unbothered, like he had not just verbally wrecked her entire nervous system.
He went back to his sandwich. She stared at him, legs wobbly, sanity completely gone.