As they enjoyed their drinks, Simón told her a bunch of stories about him.
Ámbar was amused by the idea that any outsider would probably look at her and think 'poor girl, stuck with that guy that won't stop talking about himself.' In truth, she knew he was doing it for her. After what she had told him just before leaving the mansion, Simón probably felt like she had shared a lot and needed to take her mind out of it; hence the enthusiastic chatter from his part, working as a distraction.
What anyone would've interpreted as selfishness, she knew it was a gesture of kindness.
She could've told him that it wasn't necessary, that she was fine and he didn't need to go out of his way to make her feel better, but she really loved learning more about him.
She loved to hear about his family (which was huge), about where he grew up (just a regular house near the beach of Cancún), how he did at school (not so good, but also not bad), and every other little thing. Maybe it was too much, but she felt like she wanted to know everything about him. The smallest of things marveled her, like how he had tried skateboarding before rollerskates when he was twelve because he thought it'd make him look cool (turns out it only got him a concussion), or how he used to make homemade ice creams putting juice in the icemaker of the freezer during the summer.
She said she'd like to try one of those sometime. He smiled widely and said 'deal' with a wink.
They ordered real ice cream cones to go and enjoyed them as they walked. Since Ámbar was holding her gift in one hand and the cone in the other, she reached for Simón's arm instead, and he gladly moved it to link their arms together.
While they walked, Ámbar started to share little memories with him too. She didn't have as many crazy or funny stories as he did but, just as she wanted to know more about him, she wanted Simón to know more about her too. She never thought she'd be willing to share memories of her life that weren't about her excelling at something, but unlike how she used to do before with everyone, she didn't want to impress him. She just wanted him to know her. Not Ámbar Smith the Queen of the Roller; just Ámbar. And it was such a freeing thought.
That was how she felt with Simón: freer than she'd ever been.
From his part, Simón was fascinated listening to her.
He heard raptly as Ámbar told him about how she had started rollerskating at seven, determined to be as good as an older girl she had seen training in a park (and better), about how excited she had been the first time she had ordered something online and the package had arrived (something he could relate with, although in his case it had been at sixteen with his first pay-check; she had done it at eleven with a credit card), about how she had started writing songs when she was thirteen but her first pieces were so ridiculously bad she cringed thinking about them.
He asked if he could read one of those lyrics someday. She said she had thrown them all away so they could never embarrass her. He pouted and she laughed.
Through it all, Simón tried not to get distracted staring at her lips. It felt like a disrespect when she was willingly sharing bits of her life with him, and he really loved to hear her talk about her childhood and joke around, don't take him wrong, but the way her tongue came out to lick her ice cream and wipe her lips from time to time was... very distracting.
At one point, she asked for a taste of his ice cream cone, looked him in the eye as she took a mouthful of it, and then smiled.
Was she aware of what she was doing to his poor, stupid heart?
She'd probably laugh if she knew.
Anyway, seeing her happy made him feel lighter inside than anything else did. He swore not even playing music felt as good as being with her and hearing her laugh; that was his favorite sound in the world, especially when he was the reason behind it.
It was crazy, but he really could've stayed forever just hearing her talk. And she seemed to feel the same way because, even after they finished their cones, they did just that: sat in a bench in the park and talked. Simón sighed internally as their hands naturally found each other. He couldn't stop moving his thumb over her hand, tracing different patterns, and she answered in kind— taking his hand in both of hers at one point and entertaining herself spinning and sliding his rings. It was almost absurd how incredible it felt just to do that, how much he felt just by her touching his hand.
By the time they realized it, the sun had almost completely settled down. As if on cue, Simón got a message from Luna saying that Mónica had said that they shouldn't stay outside until very late. Agreeing with her, both decided to head back to the mansion. Simón sent a text to Luna telling her so.
"Are you sure you aren't cold?" Ámbar asked him. The temperature had definitely dropped some degrees and she almost grew cold herself looking at him in just a t-shirt.
He shrugged. "Maybe a little. But we're gonna be there soon so, no biggie."
Ámbar considered that. It was true, there wasn't much left to walk. The hand that was holding hers didn't feel cold, either, but maybe it was because it was holding hers. She wished she could share her jacket with him, but it wasn't big enough.
She imagined them both trying to snuggle under it and snorted. Knowing Simón, he'd probably say that it should be him offering her his jacket and not the other way around.
"What?" He smiled at her.
Ámbar shook her head, smiling as well. Now that she thought about it, she had the impression that she had been smiling the whole evening. "Nothing."
"What do you mean 'nothing'? You're laughing, what is it?" He chirped.
Ámbar stopped walking and looked at him, meaning to make some kind of joke or something, but when she saw his beautiful smile and his eyes looking at her with affection, her heart constricted. She had truly been happy that day, very, and all because of him. Simón made her feel so many things that she had never felt before. Feelings that, before him, she had never even known existed.
Sometimes, like right then, it was so much that she felt like she might burst.
"What?" He asked her again, softer this time, his eyes searching her face.
She answered him covering his lips with hers.
Ámbar's hands flew to his neck, to his hair, to his shoulders, unable to stand still as she kissed him with the strength of all the wonderful feelings she couldn't explain with words.
But what she could, she told him caressing his face.
"I love you."
Simón looked at her with his eyes still half-closed and his lips still pursed from the memory of hers.
Then the smile slowly grew back on his face, wide and dazzling, and his eyes shined with adoration.
"Me too."
With her heart singing, Ámbar wrapped her arms around his neck and joined their lips once more.
Simón melted against her, enveloping her waist and pulling her closer to him. He had been wanting to kiss her all afternoon –all day, and he probably would all his life— but had refrained, remembering what she had said about people watching. He guessed it was dark enough now that she didn't care, but that was honestly just a fleeting thought in his mind; he was more preoccupied in drinking the taste of her mouth, as if it was the last thing he'd ever taste.
They kept doing that along the way, making stops to kiss behind a nearby tree or just straight up kissed while they advanced. (Stumbled was more like it.)
Even when they reached the front door of the mansion, Ámbar turned around smiling wickedly and pulled him down into another kiss instead of entering the house.
"Aren't there security cameras here?" Simón mumbled against her lips, worried about some guy seeing them make out.
"There are at the entrance but not right here at the door," Ámbar breathed back, brushing his lips with her eyes closed.
"Good."
Simón kissed her harder, pressing her against the door at the same time. Ámbar's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer still as her tongue consumed his mouth. Simón delved his hands under her shirt over the smooth skin of her back and he felt her hum appreciatively.
For a moment, he considered dropping the idea of a movie altogether and take her straight to the storage room instead, just so she could make some real sounds, so he could draw them out of her. After what she had done to him that morning, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel like making some noise himself. Some part of him hadn't stop thinking about it all day.
"You're not cold anymore?"
Ámbar's voice brought him out of his thoughts. Simón let out a breathless chuckle. Was he that obvious?
"No," he answered anyway and moved his mouth down to kiss her neck. "Thanks to you."
He pulled aside the neck of her jacket to reach more skin while Ámbar's hands drowned in his hair.
"Well, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I let my boyfriend freeze to death? An awful one, don't you think?"
Simón paused. He abandoned her neck and raised his head to look at her.
Ámbar opened her eyes and stared back. She had been expecting to see lust in his gaze -and there was- but there was much more. He was giving her that look again.
"What?"
The awe in his eyes transmitted through his voice. "It sounds so wonderful to hear you call me that."
Ámbar smiled. "What? 'Boyfriend'?" Simón's eyes sparkled again, full of love. Ámbar felt like she may die from cuteness overload, but she controlled herself. Instead of screeching like a schoolgirl, she put on her cool act and placed her hands on his chest. "Well, get used to it. In fact, if you play your cards right, I may even call you 'my love'."
She turned around right after, opening the door to walk inside the mansion. She didn't need to look to know that a huge ass smile adorned his face, just as she could walk knowing he was right behind her.
"Hey, guys, you're back!"
The voice who received them came from Pedro, who was sitting on one of the couches of the living room, his arm leaned on its backrest as he looked at them. "Just in time. Wanna watch this horror movie with us?"
"We've got pizza," said Michel, who was sitting on a chair on Pedro's left. He was lifting a slice of pizza to show them in one of his hands while the other held a glass of juice.
"Yeah, the rest already had dinner," explained Matteo, who was on Pedro's right on the couch.
Ámbar walked closer to them and checked the title on the TV screen.
"Oh, I haven't seen that one yet. They say it's not bad."
Simón's temperature suddenly dropped again.
"Um... We already had plans of watching something else," he said, trying to advocate for the original plan.
But Ámbar just shrugged. "I don't mind."
"Really?"
"Sure," she said, moving toward the couches. Simón just kind of stood there, shuffling on his feet. Noticing he wasn't following her, Ámbar turned to him. "You don't want to?"
Before Simón could answer, Pedro spoke up.
"Your boyfriend is terrible with this stuff; he shivers like a chihuahua."
"I do not!" Simón retorted instantly.
His friends gave him a pointed look. It was true, he was terrible with horror movies and they all knew it. Usually, he would just admit it, but he didn't want to appear like a complete coward in front of Ámbar. He knew that was silly but, well, he couldn't help it.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he gave a timid shrug. "I mean, sure, I get scared but, the normal amount."
Ámbar turned to him with understanding. "We don't have to watch it," she said appeasingly.
But, of course, that only irked Simón. If it had been an impulse before, now he had a need to prove something.
"Oh no, I'm doing it, I don't mind at all," he affirmed, moving to the couches with a determined look on his face. "And I do not shiver."
"Ssshh, come on, it's starting," said Matteo. Next to him, Pedro turned off the table lamp.
Ámbar left her gift on top of the center furniture and sat next to Simón on the couch to the right. Simón passed her a slice of pizza with one hand as he held one for him on the other and both settled against the cushions to watch the movie. Eating pizza with her bare hands was a new experience for her, and when that thought registered in her mind, she found it a little amazing. What girl her age had never eaten pizza with her hands?
She was probably missing out on a lot of things that other people her age considered ordinary. She had never wanted to be ordinary; Ámbar Smith was supposed to be fabulous, excelling, graceful— everything everyone thrived to be.
Getting her fingers full of oil and tomato sauce wasn't graceful at all.
She found that she didn't care.
Many minutes passed and Simón found out that, indeed, Ámbar handled horror movies better than him. Which was a little embarrasing, but it was nice to be able to hold her hand as the creepy music unnerved him and made him wish the horrible thing that was coming just happened already so he could be freed from the tension. Last time he had been able to hold on to someone while watching a horror movie had been with his sisters some years ago, but at least then he could act as if he was comforting them and not the other way around.
"How are you not scared? It's not fair," Simón whispered to her, not wanting to bother the other guys.
His eyes were fixed on the screen –seriously, that music was making his skin crawl— but he could hear the mirth in Ámbar's voice when she replied.
"I am scared, but your reactions are so funny that I can't take it seriously."
Right on cue, a grotesque figure pounced at the screen right that second making Simón jump.
"Pinche—"
Ámbar giggled beside him.
"It's not funny." Simón huffed, his heart rate slowly descending as the nightmare once again disappeared into the shadows. He turned to reproach her –the other guys were scared shitless too and yet she only laughed at him—but when he saw her trying and failing to suppress a smile, all indignation flew from his body.
God, she was so adorable.
Ámbar looked at him and Simón was amazed at how she could look beautiful even in the dark, illuminated only by the grotesque pictures of the TV.
Unable not to, he leaned to kiss her, short and sweet. The kiss was followed by another, then another, and another, and then somehow both forgot about the massacre occurring on screen, lost in each other's lips.
Maybe they wouldn't have even noticed the TV turning off if it hadn't been for Pedro's and Michel's protests.
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
Ámbar and Simón turned to see Matteo dropping the remote back into the center furniture and turning the table lamp on.
"We all know Simón gets nightmares with these things—"
"Hey!"
"—and if we don't stop now, I'm going to get nightmares from all the shameless cuddling of the little couple."
Simón averted his gaze, visibly embarrassed. Ámbar just rolled her eyes.
"You're so dramatic," she mocked. "Spare me the jealous scene, Matteo. I know I'm quite unforgettable but, it's been years, you need to move on."
Matteo rolled his eyes. "I give her to you with ribbon and all, Simón."
Ámbar scoffed.
"I wanted to see how the movie ended..." Michel uttered.
"Better not," Pedro snorted, "I saw you jump up to the sky like four times."
"That's because there were weird noises outside. You guys didn't hear them?"
"I heard some weird noises, but they were coming from them," Matteo pointed his thumb to Ámbar and Simón.
"Oh, come on, stop," Simón whined.
Pedro stood up, grabbing the pitcher. "I'm gonna fetch more juice."
He turned on the lights on his way to the kitchen, making them all blink a couple of times to adjust to the change.
"No, but really, there were weird noises," Michel insisted, looking at them in earnest.
"Weird like what?" Matteo asked.
"I don't know, as if there was... something outside..."
Simón tensed up next to Ámbar. "Can we talk about something else?" He pleaded nervously. Ámbar placed a hand on his shoulder soothingly.
Pedro came back with the juice.
"Hey, don't you think it's cold in here?"
Matteo agreed, rubbing his arms up and down. "Yeah, close the window please, I don't wanna get sick."
Ámbar rolled her eyes. "Always so delicate."
"You were the one who was always complaining about the cold," he retorted, receiving the pitcher from Pedro's hands and placing it on the center furniture.
"Wait, you guys used to date?" Michel asked with a frown, apparently only then processing that information.
Ámbar opened her mouth to explain that yes, sadly they had—
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"
A loud scream broke the calm in the room. Everyone jumped, startled, and their heads snapped instinctively toward the origin of the sound. Pedro had fallen to the floor and his head was raised to the open window in front of him. Ámbar's eyes settled on it... and what she saw shocked her more than any horror movie ever could.
A lump automatically formed in her throat and her heart jumped inside her chest. Her hair was different, her clothes were different, but Ámbar could've recognized that face anywhere.
The figure seemed to vanish as fast as it had come, disappearing into the dark of the night like a ghost. And Ámbar realized that that was exactly what it was— her own personal ghost, coming to remind her that she wasn't free, coming to haunt her with the past that she couldn't leave behind.
All the guys had jumped to their feet and were wildly staring at the window. Matteo pointed at it, deeply alarmed.
"What the fuck was that?!"
"Sharon."
The whispered name left Ámbar's lips before she was even conscious of it, still in shock of having seen her godmother after all that time.
She realized too late of her mistake.
"What?"
Simón had turned to her, just as the rest of the guys who were now staring at her in surprise and confusion. Ámbar just stared back, speechless and paralyzed by the consequence of what she had just done, of what she had just seen.
"What the hell is going on?" Miguel's voice resounded suddenly. "Why did you scream like that?"
Pedro came close to him, pointing to the window. "I went to close the window and there was a woman out there!"
"Ámbar says it was Sharon," Matteo informed.
Miguel's eyes widened and he ran to the window. "What?!"
Mónica had appeared as well, followed by Luna. The woman turned to Ámbar.
"Sharon? Are you sure, Ámbar?"
Ámbar felt a constricting fear inside of her. She wanted to backtrack, she wanted to deny, she wanted to run and hide, but all she could manage was to mumble, "I- I don't know..."
She could hear more conversation, questions and answers thrown left and right, but she couldn't distinguish it because louder than anything else was the painful voice in her head.
I can't tell them. I can't tell them. I can't tell them.
Probably sensing her distress, Simón sat next to her on the couch –god, she really hadn't moved a muscle since the commotion— and placed an arm around her, rubbing her arm softly up and down.
It was supposed to be soothing, it should've been soothing, but it only enhanced the fear that was taking over her.
Just hours prior, Simón had told her how happy he was for getting to know her more, 'the real Ámbar' as he called it. But was it truly real?
He didn't know that she knew Sharon's plans. He didn't know that she had helped Sharon keep Luna from the truth. He didn't know that she was still in contact with her— No one knew.
Feeling Simón so close, a horrible, excruciating fear took hold of Ámbar.
If he finds out I'm covering Sharon, he'll leave me.
"Miguel, I swear to you, there was a redheaded woman out there!"
"Wait, redheaded?" Luna interjected. "It must be the same woman I saw in the yard! Remember that I told you? I told you I had seen her!"
Ámbar's heart was pounding furiously. So much so that she could hear it in her ears.
Breath. Breath, she told herself. But the air refused to enter her lungs. She was terrified.
Just the fact that they could catch Sharon any minute was enough to scare her. But she found there was something worse.
Ámbar realized at that moment that there was nothing more terrifying than knowing happiness and discovering it could be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. All of it— just gone.
"But if she has red hair then she can't be Sharon," Mónica reasoned.
"She could be wearing a disguise," Miguel retorted, his voice dawning with realization. "It'd make sense that she would change her appearance to come here. Damn it, we got to talk to security right now!"
"What's going on here?" Rey's strong voice resounded. Just hearing it almost made Ámbar flinch. He was the key in all of it, the principal mole of Sharon inside the house— yet no one knew it.
"Rey, a redheaded woman has been walking around the house. We suspect it may be Sharon under disguise. I need you to speak to all our security and get them on high alert, that woman can't take a step inside this house, is that clear?" Miguel commanded.
"Yes, of course. I'll take care of it."
Ámbar dared a glimpse at Rey. As he turned to leave, he caught her gaze, a quick, dark look sent her way that only reminded her what she already knew.
I can't tell them.
She felt Simón kiss the side of her head and she closed her eyes with pain and guilt. She couldn't tell him. She had just gotten him, they were finally happy. She finally had someone who saw her for who she was, and for some miracle of the universe, he liked what the saw. Ámbar didn't want to lose that, she couldn't lose that.
He won't leave you. He loves you. He'll understand.
Ámbar wanted to believe that so much. But in her nineteen years of life, no one had cared enough to stay.
Matteo chose Luna.
Jazmín and Delfi turned their backs on her.
The woman who gave birth to her gave her away.
The woman who raised her abandoned her.
Simón...
How can you talk about love when you're full of hate?
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
"Alright, everyone up to your rooms. It isn't safe for any of you to sleep in the storage room tonight, and it'll probably be safer if you don't for a couple more days as well."
Miguel's commanding voice snapped Ámbar out of her trance and soon enough Simón was holding her hand and guiding her up. They made their way to the stairs in silence along with the rest of the guys. Ámbar was surprised when Simón handed her the gift bag. She had totally forgotten about it. A new jab of guilt hit her as she held it in her free hand. Mónica had been nothing but kind to her while she...
As they climbed upstairs, the Valente had stayed behind, talking and comforting each other as only a family could.
A family her godmother wanted to destroy.
Reaching the hallway, Simón bid the guys goodnight instead of following them to the guest rooms. Still holding her hand, he went the opposite way, accompanying Ámbar to her bedroom.
"Wow, I can't believe Sharon is prowling around the house," he said once they were alone.
Ámbar gulped, her mouth feeling like sand. "Neither can I."
"I mean, she got this close to Luna, who knows what would've happened? What if—"
Taking a look at her, he stopped himself short. Reaching her door, Simón stopped in front of it and gave her a sympathetic look.
"Sorry. This must be very hard for you, right? I mean, you always had a complicated relationship with her, then she lied to you about being Sol Benson, and then she disappeared for months only to come back now and do all these horrible things..." He grabbed her other hand as well, softly caressing both with his thumbs. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Ámbar shook her head weakly. "No..."
"Hey." Simón's hands rose to cup her face gently, making her look at him. "Everything's gonna be alright, don't worry."
Ámbar nodded and did her best to show him a smile. Simón kissed her tenderly and took a step back, letting his hands fall. He stood in front of her, unsure.
"Do you want me to stay here tonight?" He asked her hesitantly. "Just in case she tries something else. Or would you rather be alone? It's fine either way, I completely understand."
Alone.
Ámbar fisted the material of his t-shirt.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Now. Always. Even if I forever keep this secret from you. Even if you find out someday. Please don't hate me.
Simón smiled softly. "Okay."
He opened the door and moved to get inside, but Ámbar's hands jumped to his chest to stop him.
"Um— You should go to your room first though."
Simón looked at her confused. Ámbar forced her voice to sound even, casual. "To get clothes." She explained. "You know, that way I don't have to kick you out first thing in the morning."
Simón's smile grew at that. "That sounds good. I'll be right back then."
"Sure," she smiled.
Ámbar watched him go until he turned the corner and let her smile fall. Rapidly, she entered her room, left her gift on top of the dressing table and made a beeline to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She pulled her phone out of her jacket and marked with haste the infamous number that she had tried reaching so many times before.
As always, it went to voicemail.
"Hello, Sharon, it's me. Can you please explain to me what the hell you think you're doing coming here to the house? You are aware that it's dangerous, right? You can't do that, they could catch you... Call me, please, I need to talk to you."
Ámbar hanged up and lowered her phone, clenching it hard, wanting to throw it against the wall.
She had been so happy lately, so elated with how things were working out for her that for a moment, just a moment, she forgot. She forgot she was Ámbar Smith, adopted and raised by a woman hell-bent on revenge. Oh, how stupid she had been.
She turned to the sink and washed her hands, as if with that she could wash away all the mistakes, deceits and secrets she wanted to get rid of. She turned the water off and tilted her head up, looking at herself in the wall mirror. The hopeless look on her face that greeted her in the reflection was too familiar to bear.
Even if she wanted to stay away from it all, to disentangle herself from Sharon's mess, she couldn't. She had tried, only for her to appear in the house and remind her that she was still pretty much her accomplice. She would always be so unless she spoke up, but that would mean betray her.
Not for the first time, Ámbar blamed and cursed her stupid heart for caring about that woman when she clearly didn't care about her. But she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if she got caught. And she couldn't just let her be either, not when she could try to help her change her mind, help her do things right.
But why did that have to be her job? Why did she have to be in the middle of it? Why—
"Ámbar?"
Simón's voice jolted her from her thoughts. Grabbing her phone on instinct as if he would somehow know who she had called and why, she moved closer to the door and responded through it.
"I'm in the bathroom, I'll be out in a minute."
"Okay. I'll make the bed in the meantime," he answered in a gentle voice.
Ámbar leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes tightly. She hated this. She hated having to hide things from him. They were supposed to not do that anymore; she was supposed to not do that anymore. 'No secrets, no plans': that was what Simón had told her the day before and that was what she wanted too. She hated this.
She had to do something about Sharon, make her see reason, because if not...
She didn't want to think about the consequences.
...
..
.
------------------------
I really hope you didn't think that since they were together everything was going to be rainbows and butterflies hahahahaaha.
Oh, honeys. If I get my way, you got a storm coming <3
In other news, did you watch Michael in 'Bajo La Red 2' yet? I haven't— I'm not emotionally ready hahaha. But maybe now that I posted this I can allow myself to die 🤷🏻♀️