Reunion - Mapi Leon x Reader

Chapter 9 - Rehearsal

Waking up with Mapi in my arms is like some sort of twisted dream. A backwards deja vu from 2 mornings ago. Her eyes are slightly swollen and red, but other than she's just as perfect as ever. Her arms are clung around my midsection, her head on my chest as her legs interlocked with mine. It's peaceful. The only sound is from the birds perched on the balcony outside my rooms. The serenity comes crashing down when I realise the time - the clock flicking over to half 10 in the morning. If her team is anything like mine, she's late, and I'm late for my sister's wedding rehearsal.
Gently, I rub my hand up and down her back until I begin to hear her stir. "dios. It's too early. (God)" She groans into my chest, moving her head and turning a bright red when she realises where it was.
"I'm sorry, Mapi. But you're really late, and I'm really late, so together, we're just one bundle of lateness.." I laugh, stroking a hand through her hair in an attempt to wake her.

She opens one eye and takes a look at the time. “Shit! No, no, no!” She gets up and finds her phone, which is somehow on the ground on the other side of the room. Clicking through it, she makes a call.
“Ale. I’m so sorry. I’m on my way.” She picks up her backpack and goes to leave, but not before turning back and running over to give me a hug. “See you at the wedding then.”

While I recover from Mapi’s sudden departure, I google the way to the wedding venue from here, groaning when I realise the distance. I definitely can't be bothered to walk.
I climbed out of bed and searched around for my suitcase, which was ditched under a hoodie.. which isn't mine. The blue fabric twists comfortably through my fingers, her perfume sifting through the early morning dew. For a second, I ponder running over to her and returning it. But I'm late, and late to your own sister's wedding rehearsal is not a very practical entrance. I grin to myself, picking it up along with the skirt, shirt, and tights I was supposed to be wearing today.

I managed to make it to the rehearsal only 15 minutes late, met with a very stern glare from my sister, whose bare feet gave me the idea she had been pacing for a long time. "¡Gracias joder! Carlota Águila ¿dó(✨️)nde has estado?"

I groan, running my fingers through my hair with one hand, my other hand trailing down to the hem of my hoodie. "English, please, Amalia."

She chews on her lip. "Carlota Aguila, you were supposed to be here.." she checks her watch. "15 minutes ago!"

I mutter out sorry, the blue material flicking through my fingers. "Come on, hoodie off. You better have the correct clothing under it."

Huffing, I dragged it over my head so I'm left in the colourless white shirt and checked green and white of the skirt. I looked over to my sister expectantly, and she nodded her head, bending her elbow so I could hook my arm into it. Her heels slipped onto her feet, and the slow, monotone walk began.  Under my breath, I muttered, "I still don't understand why dad isn't doing this."

She stopped, unhooking our arms and taking my cheeks into her palms. "Lottie, this is special and important to me. Dad wants to be there to see me walk, and he won't be if he's walking me." She kisses my temple tenderly. "And this is for me and you and all the times we saved each other's arses."
I grin at her happily.

"Let's do this." I say confidently, linking our elbows and interlocking our hands. I hear the music begin from within the next room, and we begin our walk.

While we're not in the correct outfits that we would be wearing for the wedding, the steps are precarious and gentle. Her heels were the same height, and the summer dress she was wearing trailed at her ankles the same way her wedding dress would. I breathed away the nerves, my shaky inhalation giving away how much I was trembling anyway.
Every so often, Amalias head twists, and she meets my eye, squeezing my hand comfortingly. I'm not sure why I'm nervous. It's not my wedding day. Nobody would care if I tripped up or fell over. This I'd Amalias day, not mine.

And maybe that's the problem, maybe I'm so caught up with it being perfect for my older sister. I'm not realising how simple it is for me to do my job. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the feeling of loneliness that fills my insides. It's knowing that my sister, only 2 years older than me, is getting married and has been in a long-term relationship for 5 years. I'm jealous of it.. but I shouldn't be. I am happy. I have Lucas in my life. Hot boy summer and all that. And it was good, for the summer but now it all seems to drag on.

Lucas is nothing compared to the Spanish Surfer boys. No, wait. The Spanish boys. His blonde hair is lovely, but the Spanish accent lights a fire within any sane woman's mind. It doesn't even have to be a male speaking Spanish for it to be hot. Anyone can admit that someone whispering querida in your ear is hot, right?

You can be straight and admit a woman's voice is hot, right?

You can be straight and admit that a woman has really nice eyes and the prettiest smile known to mankind, right?

You can be straight but acknowledge how good a woman looks when her muscles ripple with every movement, right?

Right?

And then it clicks. I pause for a moment, before my sister gives me a look and I keep walking, but suddenly this whole wedding rehearsal doesn’t seem so important.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't Spanish men. Or Spanish women.

Maybe it's just Mapi.

(Sorry for the delay - I bet you can guess which of your two writers couldn't be bothered.. dont be a ghost reader! Love ya<3)