Chapter 31
ALEJANDRA
Puede Ser - El Canto del Loco, Amaia Montero
“So? What happened in Ericeira? Do you want to talk about it?” Alejandra asked Carlos, who had been pacing around the house for the last hour, slamming doors and fixing random things with the grumpiest face she had ever seen on him.
They had come back almost a week ago from Portugal, and even though she was still stuck in her sling, her mood had somehow been lighter, in sharp juxtaposition with her brother’s, which had been absolutely horrible.
Callum was definitely the reason why she felt better. The no-contact rule had been completely destroyed, and they chatted daily now. Even though he worked an exaggerated amount of hours, he always took time at night to call her.
Were they a couple? No.
Did they act like one? Definitely.
But she did not want to put labels on it. Not yet.
Why? She didn’t really know the reason.
Callum sounded and looked like the perfect book boyfriend, the kind she could imagine in every new book she picked up. No matter how the author described the male lead, they all ended up looking like Callum in her mind.
But somehow, her confidence had taken a hit with the injury. And even though he did not seem to care about the sling, the scars, or the fact that she was temporarily broken, she cared.
Her brother, on the other hand, looked like he had just been personally betrayed by the entirety of the universe, which was not normal for Carlos.
“Carlos…” She stopped him, throwing a pillow at him with her good arm. “Answer me.”
“Ignoring you is easier,” he snorted, looking around the living room, probably searching for something else he could fix, tighten, adjust, or dismantle just to keep his mind busy.
“You’re giving off very bad vibes. Could you at least explain why?”
“I thought you were the one in a foul mood.”
“I haven't been since Ericeira,” a smirk pulled at her lips.
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “Because whatever is going on with Superman is clearly working for you.” He paused, squinting at her. “Did you fuck him?”
“He went down on me in the market stall.” She grinned, enjoying the exact moment her brother’s face twisted in pure disgust.
At least it was another emotion.
“Ale, I really did not need to know that.”
“I bet you are upset because you did not go down on Ester or Amira,” she studied him carefully. “Should I bet on Amira?”
Carlos stopped in his tracks.
He dropped heavily onto the couch next to her and sighed like the weight of the world had just collapsed onto his shoulders.
“I… could you stop…” he groaned again. “I…”
He hid his face in a pillow like he was a teenager, muffling something she could not quite catch.
“Could you be an almost forty-year-old man and talk about your feelings without shame?” Alejandra sighed.
“I did! I fucking did!” he almost screamed, lifting his head from the pillow. “But she rejected me.”
“Ester? That one you could see coming,” she said, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
“No…” Carlos said in a whisper.
“Oh my God!” Alejandra almost jumped from the couch, the sudden movement sending a streak of pain through her left shoulder, but she barely noticed. “You spoke with Amira?”
“Yes, I—” he groaned again, rubbing his face with both hands. Shrek could hold a more fluid conversation than her brother at that moment. “I took her aside after her victory. We were chatting, as usual, about her performance and she—”
He stood up again, pacing the room like a caged animal.
“Remember that she started the fucking conversation mentioning Ester. She asked me if she was my girlfriend and I…”
“Please, be fluid with this gossip because you are making it way longer than it needs to be—”
“I told her that I did not want any girlfriend if she was not the one sharing her life with me.”
Carlos’ face was redder than a tomato.
Alejandra pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to react too quickly.
“And what did she reply?”
“She rejected me, Ale. Were you not listening?”
“Through the groans? Almost impossible.”
Carlos flipped her off and collapsed onto the couch next to her again.
“I’m sorry,” she said more gently this time. “But what did she actually say?”
“She said that she was not interested. That she was sorry. And then she left.” His jaw tightened. “And I am so fucking glad you injured yourself so I do not have to see her ever again.”
“I will go back to competing,” Alejandra reminded him carefully.
“You will find another trainer. I will just hide myself out here for the rest of my life. I will never hear the end of it from Ilias.”
“Do you think she told him?” Alejandra scrunched her nose. “She does not usually share that kind of information with him.”
“I would rather not know.”
Alejandra patted his shoulder again.
“Maybe this could be the opportunity to stop pining over her and find somebody else who actually cares about you.”
Carlos nodded slowly. “As if it was that easy.”
“I am sorry, Carlos. For real.”
She did not like seeing her brother like that.
“Do you want a hug?” she asked.
He nodded. They stayed like that for quite some time, sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around each other in silence.
Heartbreak was not something she was unfamiliar with.
Her heart had been broken too many times over the years, and when her mind drifted to Callum, somehow she was scared that would be the case again.
He was always busy with his job.
She was injured, but eventually she would return to her routine—even if it took months, or years.
She could go back to surfing, if the fear of what had happened that day eventually faded. And then what? How could they live a happy life with him seated in an office in London while she played with death riding waves somewhere around the world?
She had no idea. She had absolutely no idea how that relationship could possibly work. And for the time being, she would rather deal with one problem at a time.