|◁ II ▷|
ariana grande — pov.
IF ANGER HAD A FACE, it would have been Maya's, who sat painfully still, squashed next to him, whilst her heart was imploding inside her chest.
She wasn't surprised that he was such a love rat, given that she, too, had caved into the grips of that devilish charm of his and had opened her legs out to him — without protest, allowing him to penetrate.
Eight times.
At times, she questioned the point of her cynicism especially when her body was blaring for intimacy. But, Ebén wronging her was proof that life had been much better when she rid herself of her rose-tinted glasses and saw things for what they were.
"You okay?" The serial flirt had noticed her quiet. But, it was neither a thinking-long-and-hard type of quiet, or an appreciation for the air of silence type of quiet.
It was a brooding sort of quiet, like she was plotting.
"I'm fine," That had been her third 'fine' in a row, and Ebén gathered, that she most certainly wasn't fine. It was obvious that she was frustrated at something, and despite his attempts to get to the root cause of why she was so frustrated, she remained guarded.
"You... sure?" Ebén continued to press, hoping her tongue towards him wouldn't continue to be so curt, unaware that it was he that she was mad at.
"Yes, Ebén," Much to his obvious dismay, she didn't depart from the bluntness in her tone, "I'm fine... for like the fifth time of you asking."
"Well, you're obviously not. I just don't get why you've got so much aggro for me. What have I even done?" said Ebén, as unbeknownst to him, his lack of self-awareness had brought out the full tilt of her red-hot rage that she was trying to temper.
He had now said the wrong thing and she certainly wasn't in the habit of continuing to keep her emotions in check when she was itching to explode.
"Ariana," Maya didn't even need to, or even want to, say anything else. She knew that by the mere mention of her name, Ebén would get the gist of what she was saying and that he did.
"Maya, you've got it wrong. It wasn't like that?" Ebén tried to dismiss what she had obviously saw with her hazel-green orbs, dressing it down as being friendly.
Maya was no fool, and was insulted that Ebén tried to make her seem like she was. There was nothing friendly about allowing a woman whose core he had eaten, insert her digits in his phone and demand that he call her, upon her return to London.
She deduced after his first excuse that whatever they were doing was over.
Fin.
"Whatever, Ebén." Maya was not interested in what other excuse he was about to give.
Silence followed after, and whilst Maya appreciated drowning out his voice with her thoughts, Ebén was reeling with regret that he had said the wrong thing.
His dismissal of what Maya had in fact saw had been something of instinct and didn't want to treat this budding relationship with Maya in the same vein that he had treated his others. He wanted to start anew.
He tried to pull her out of the sour mood she was sitting in, with an offer of some good, old fashioned vitamin D, "Hey, can I take you on trip?"
"No," To Ebén's surprise, Maya didn't bite, "Rhodes, you can drop me here, thanks"
As she stepped down, Ebén tried to pull her back with one hand gripped on her arm in an attempt to suspend her plans and make her stay, "Maya... wait?"
She cast a death stare at the grip of his brown hands that had sent her into euphoria many a time, but now she couldn't stand the sight of it, "Get off."
He reluctantly let her walk.
Rhodes freed himself from his seat buckle, "Shall I stop her? She probably isn't that far, I th — "
Ebén was reluctantly resigned to it being over and could only blame himself, "Leave her."
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[ LA MANGA, ESPAÑA — 3PM ]
Home — Ebén had missed the briny smell of the Canary Islands, and wanted to use this time away from the City that never slept as a hard reset.
He also wanted to stop thinking about his one that got away, that had been nobody's fault but his. He had offered her his apologies on the flight down here but got nothing but radio silence. It was hardly a surprise to Ebén that she didn't respond to his flood of calls, but there was a sliver of hope in him... that she might have. He was irked with himself that he gave in to the arousal at the expense of the best relationship he had ever had.
He loved her in a way that was deep, scary but exciting all in one beat.
And now, he'd lost her... forever.
Abuelita's wooden cane slapped hard against the pebble ground, as her gait made her violently see-saw, even with the physical support of her carer. Her blood-flecked eyes squinted and noticed the car parked in front of her gate, wanting to be let in.
Ebén was tempted to blare his car horn but didn't want to pierce her already vitiated eardrums.
She stalked towards the anonymous car tentatively, hand in hand and in constant dialogue with María, her carer, at the visitor she had not been expecting.
"¿Quién es ese?" Her sullen eyes had not focused yet.
Ebén wound the window down, "¡Yaya, soy yo!"
"¿Qué?" She waddled towards him as she was being escorted down her patio steps by María — "¿Ebénezer, eres tú? Pensé que estaba en Londres?
"Yo estaba, ¡aterricé no hace mucho"
María stood over Abuelita, cordially greeting the man who had shown her and her family nothing but kindness since the very start of her employment, "¡Hola Señor Cástro!"
He sweetened her with a smile, ¡Mária, es muy bueno verte! Gracias por todo lo que haces por mi abuela"
"No pasa nada, Señor" said Maria, opening the car door to let him exit.
The two of them noticed the leg brace that Ebén was donning on this dominant leg as his own gait was slower in pace than Abuelita's and was now a limp.
"¿Qué pasado? ¿Estás herido?" Abuelita asked, as her sotto voice wobbled in her throat and came out frail. María, too, shared her concern as Ebén's face grimaced with each stride he took on the pebbled ground, without the aid of his crutches that would lessen the weight put on his right knee.
"Es solo una herida menor"
There was nothing minor about a torn ACL that was set to see him sidelined for three-quarters of the calendar year. And Ebén was trying to protect Abuelita from worrying about him. She had spent her entire life doing that, and Ebén didn't want her to add more years to that tally.
She paused, examining him with a disbelieving eye.
"¿Seguro?"
That would have been the moment for Ebén to break his sweat and fold, but was adamant that he was going to lessen the burdens that he placed into the arms of the old, frail woman, "Si, si."
"Déjame mostrate algo," she whistled him over, as she led the way — even with her unsteady gait, to her rosebud garden was enshrined with wild flowery.
She had always taken an avid interest in planting her own flowers and loved to watch their journey from seeds to fully planted, under her love and nurture.
"¿Qué estás plantando?"
She couldn't contain her excitement, "Claveles. ¡Ellas están creciendo bien no te parece" She raised the ferrule part of her walking stick in the air, ushering him to accompany her on the wooden bench.
She took a silent pause to try and dig out clues from his face that looked visibly distracted. La Manga was deep in rural Spanish country, which allowed one to effectively disconnect.
For however long.
But, Abuelita noticed that whatever baggage Ebén had in the City, he had brought it over.
She didn't have the faintest clue as to what was the source of his inner troubles but decided to prod on the issue of girlfriends to begin the process of elimination, "¿Como esta tu novia?"
"I don't have one?" Ebén shook his head, as his chest rose up high to exhale, suffocating his brain with thoughts of her. He'd snuffed the only chance she would ever give him, and wanted nothing more than a chance to redeem himself and get her back.
"Entonces, ¿qué es lo que te molesta?" Abuelita asked, and was initially taken aback at how he was so willing to share what the cause of his baggage was.
"I met someone and I think I fucked it," Ebén held his head in his hands, the reality that he'd lost her, no longer a maybe, but something that was certain.
Abuelita tried to calm his wounded heart but Maya was a woman so set in her ways, that she rarely ever changed her mind, "Carino, dale tiempo. Ella podría sorprenderte y cambiar de opinión. "
Once she said it was the end, it most likely was.
He slid in his hotel room key, pushing the door open. Before he even had the chance to look up, he heard the blowing of an amorous voice that made him shiver, "About time, Mr. Cástro? How long were you going to make me wait?"
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A/N: Surprise, motherfucker.