One shots

Paper hearts (corazones de papel)

" I think you are mistaken sir, my name is Margo."

Her voice didn't shake, she was thankful. Her body still aches for his warmth, longed for his touch but she pushed it down. She was t going to break now.

Francisco couldn't believe it. Or was it he didn't want to? They looked so similar, that he was so sure it was her. Smiling down at the Margo he couldn't help wonder where she was, what she was doing.

"I'm so sorry m'am, I seemed to have mistaken you for someone else."

He kissed her hand, which she very quickly retracted. With a nod and a small excuse me, she walked away from him. Just like Lydia had. She turned took one last glance before hurrying up. Francisco ran a hand through his face and over his face. He was losing the plot now.

Lydia let out a startled breath when she felt she was far enough. Grabbing two flutes of passing champagne she downed them both, trying to get herself back to normal. She closed her eyes, hoping it would keep the tears at bay. But as she felt the hollowness first her heart she ran for the closest bathroom.

She cried, silent tears streamed down her face. Pulling herself up in the empty room, she splashed her face with cold water before retouching her make. A shake of the head and a stray heart of the neck, she nodded at her reflection making her exit.

She was going to leave. Right now. Her strides were powerful. Her head held high as she sauntered across the room. She didn't dare look around. To see Francisco which would just have her stop as if her feet glued to the ground.

He watched her, halting his conversation. She was leaving and he couldn't allow that. Not yet at least. Excluding himself he practically ran across the room, gaining so weird stares along the way. She couldn't see him. But her was sure she felt something as he could as he got closer.

"Leaving already," he smiled up at her.

"A drink before you leave Miss Margo, come please."

She couldn't refuse. Or was it that she didn't want to. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. All she could see was his brown eyes. They way he kissed her neck. They way his slight touch down her arm would leave a scorching trail.

"If you insist sir."

She nodded at him softly with a smile. His breath caught.

"Francisco, call me Francisco," his voice wavered.

He gestured for her to loop her arm through his, guiding them to the bar. Not once did his gaze falter off her. He ordered her a white lady and him a cognac. Hoping it was what she liked . It was what Lydia always said she would drink.

Lydia cleared her throat, "I don't like white lady's."

His physical stance tensed. Apologising her ordered her a vermouth. Turning his attention to her they sat in silence as their drinks were respectably places in front of them. They both took a sip before he started to talk.

The night felt infinite as they spoke. He was a man of words. She was a woman of silence. And yet they were both comfortable with the silences that would pop up. They drank, one, two, three till they were slightly buzzing.

And he kissed her. Like he always did.

One hour later...

She made him between kisses. And so he did. They both did. They promised each other the night, and only the one night. They would not go look for each other after this. They would forget each other. And if one day as if by fate they would meet again one day then they would.