DRAG - [h.s. au]

41

"I just want to see what it looks like. Is it pretty? I know that the tango is from here. But the city.... I've never really looked into it." She tells me, leaving the parking garage and turning to look at me for directions.

"Take a left, go straight until you see the lights." I tell her, and she nods. "Buenos Aires is like a lost city of Europe in South America. I think you'll like it. They have funny accents."

"You have a funny accent."

"No, I don't have an accent, you do." I tell her, and she scoffs. "I'm going to play some music."

"But we already listened to all the Stevie songs!" She groans, firmly holding the wheel.

Fuck she always held onto it so tight... why the fuck did she do that? It stressed me out, so I kept my eyes off of her hands and on that pretty face of hers. We had spent the last few weeks listening to the rest of Stevie Nicks' discography and I knew she liked it, but I hadn't even brought up Fleetwood Mac to her.

I had a feeling she'd like the band a lot.

"Well, there's still a whole other side. Fleetwood Mac!" I tell her excitedly, pulling my cable out and plugging it into the adapter on the car. The best thing about vintage cars was that they'd modernize them for moments like these.

"What the fuck is a Filetwood Mac?"

"Did you just say 'Filetwood'? What the fuck?" I say, choking on my laughs. "Are you joking?"

"No, but if you don't stop laughing at me I'll make you walk to where we're staying." She deadpans, looking to her right and seeing the skyline.

A few skyscrapers littered the distance but the real magic were the old buildings we'd be driving by soon.

"Take a right, all the way down. We're staying at the Palacio Duhau." I tell her, and her face lights up in my Spanish.

"Spanish too?"

"Surprisingly, it's my worst language. You won't be hearing it much." I admit.

"What's your best language?"

"Italian or Japanese, probably... pretty good at French, too." I tell her, and she comes to a stop at the red light.

"Y-you speak Japanese?" She asks, eyes a little wide.

"Uh, yes... why?"

"Can you teach me? One day?" She asks shyly, and I feel my heart surge at her innocent request. "I never learned, that's why my parents and I weren't, uh, we weren't close... I couldn't really communicate with them. I refused to learn."

Her openness isn't anything new, but she hadn't spoken too much about anything too personal lately. It was more me now, little stories about growing up in England... Emmy... some of the races I used to compete in.

"Of course I'll teach you." I say quickly, smiling a bit at her.

"Careful, if you smile too much I'll think you've gone soft." She teases, stepping on the gas when the light flicked to green.

We drove for a few more seconds, a Fleetwood Mac song bumping lightly in the back as I directed her to the hotel. We arrived quickly, and gave the car to the valet, a bellman taking the bags as I checked us in. She stood at the elevators waiting for me as I came to her with keys.

Her eyes took in the marble and expensive décor. There was a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling over a green and brown stone floor, but those brown eyes shocked mine when they met. Excitement flurried around her and I knew she was way more excited than she'd let on.