12 Dates
Written by Emerald Rush
A Harry Castillo Fanfiction
Prologue: The Cute Meet, Meet Cute or Whatever (click the link)
Date 1: "Flowers, Chinese Takeout and Beso"
There were a few things she was expecting from her last week of summer vacations: sweat, ice cream and maybe a solo date at the movies (it was man-in-slutty-little-glasses-summer after all).
What she wasn't expecting was the last straw of her mental sanity to turn into the best thing that ever happened to her: a cute meet. A real one, like the ones she read at her romance novels and saw in movies.
To be totally honest, when she crashed into him she was already mouthing a "fucking idiot" between her teeth, anticipating the hurt in her butt once she made contact with the concrete. But he caught her. Oh, he caught her.
In a millisecond he was grabbing her by the waist, in one of those dancing poses where the man bends down the girl, and then their eyes lock.
Her initial anger turned into pain: she had spent her precious vacation money in Chinese takeout, flowers and sweet treats, and now it was all ruined, lying at their feet and cruelly laughing at her. That's why when he offered to buy everything back she doubted for a second.
It'll be nice of him. So nice. Besides, if he hadn't been distracted in his stupid phone he might have seen her, ’cause let's be for real, he had to see her. How could he not? She was impossible to miss: heavy bossom, thick thighs and legs, voluptuous and generous curves in a one hundred fifty nine centimeters presentation.
Sure, he was taller, but still. And it's not like she wasn't paying attention to where she put her feet (fine, maybe she wasn't, it was such a pretty day, the city had been under dark stormy clouds and a haunted vibe for almost three weeks now that when she saw the bluest sky and the cushiony clouds she knew she had to go out and yes, she was mesmerized at the view but it was only partially her fault).
Yet, when she knelt to pick everything up, ready to let her tears fall down he knelt too, helping her and insisting on make it up to her. Maybe out of guilt, maybe because people were looking (but they weren't), whatever reason he has she was more and more inclined to accept.
So she did. And he bought her not only her bouquet of carnations back, he got her tulips, roses, peonies, orchids... hell, he even picked some gardenias and a lavander inside her pot.
"You really didn't have to, Harry" she said once inside his car, her bouquets in his truck except the lavander in her pot.
"I did, preciosa" Harry took the lavander from her hands. "Now, the pastries down street? Or somewhere else? Just tell my driver and he'll take us there".
"You know Ophelia's?" she gasped. Harry seemed so out of his element in what probably was a haute couture ensemble in shades of chocolate and tan in the middle of the suburbs. Still, he nodded and smiled.
"You think you're the only one with good taste, corazón?".
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you don't belong here. No offense".
"None taken. I was here to have brunch with my mom and she's a regular from Ophelia's as well" Harry explained. "If you tell her I accidentally dropped her biscuits she'll sure cut my throat".
"Your mom or Ophelia?".
"Both" Harry simulated to loosen his collar as if it was a rope, earning a laugh from her.
"Fine, I won't tell them" she smiled. "But my silence has a price".
"Like everything in this world, preciosa" Harry grinned, clearly amused by her nerve. "What is it gonna take, sweetheart?".
The nickname took her by surprise, exactly like when she stumbled upon him: a quick and clean punch to her chest that left her breathless.
"Chinese takeout" her mouth replied faster than her brain could process.
"Deal, best business ever" exclamored Harry, triumphant. ”From the place next to Ophelia's?".
She nodded. Was it always this easy? Was it like this for everyone else? Did people just run into other people's chests and then they almost fell to the ground only to be saved by a devastatingly handsome fella and then they were asked out on dates?
No. Stuff like this only happened in books and movies, and to much better looking people. Then, why was it happening to her? It felt like the world was spinning too fast, the car driving too quick and everything moving so swiftly. She had to breath, had to hold onto something before anything crumbled.
"You said you were trying to enjoy your summer" his voice acted like her anchor, the waves still there but now manageable. "Are you on vacation?".
"School break" she nodded. "I'm an online teacher".
"Oh".
"Fancy, I know".
"I was gonna say hard. My grandmother was a elementary school teacher and it's one of the hardest jobs I ever knew".
"It is" she crackled. "Not a lot of people gets it".
"Well, I'm not a lot of people, sweetheart".
"No, you are not, Harry Castillo".
Because he wasn't. Of course she didn't had a lot of experience, but guys, well, men, weren't nothing like Harry. At least not the ones she had met before.
He got her car door, helped her out and kept his hand on the small of her back even after they made it inside of Ophelia's bakery. He suggested enthusiastically for her to try the flan, the tiramisu and even a frappé.
"You're gonna go broke if you keep trying to buy everything in sight" she grabbed his wrist, the coldness of his (fuck) gold watch contrasting against the warmth irradiating from his skin.
"I have plenty of money to waste, corazón. Please, go ahead and try me" Harry whispered as he licked the spoon clean of any whipped cream, watering her mouth in the process. Was this man trying to kill her?
"Fine, is your funeral".
"I'm counting on it" Harry ended up buying one of each pastries and even grabbing some for himself. They also stopped at the Chinese restaurant, ordering spicy octupus, shrimp and chicken dishes with pasta, enough food for a batillion. Harry even insisted on getting ice cream, the expensive kind at the grocery store. He wasn't satisfied until she agreed to let him drop her at her place.
"And how is this date supposed to work out? We already have food for days" she asked, next to him in the backseat.
"Well, I was thinking, if you're trying to enjoy your vacations, does that mean the nights as well? 'Cause darling, you aren't living right if you don't see this city after midnight".
"What happens after midnight? This car turns into a pumpkin?".
"Limo, actually. Or party bus, depending on what you like".
She smirked, enthusiasm gleaming in her eyes. She loved late night car rides, and she was always excited about midnight plans, but never got around them: transport was dangerous and walking home alone was scary, specially since she lived so far away from the five close friends she made since moving.
"Alright, I'm in. Seriously tho, I'm gonna need help to finish all of this. Do you wanna come inside? It's not the four seasons,. however..."
"Yes, I would love to" Harry cut her before she could finish.
"Is not the prettiest neighborhood" there was warning in her voice. "And it's a small apartment. Actually, small is an understatement, is tiny. Is a miracle I fit".
"Are you trying to dissuade me, preciosa?".
"I'm trying to lower your expectations" her stern expression seemed to only further intriguing Harry, so she sighed in defeat. "Alright then, is the building down the block".
The construction seemed to be falling apart, yet she became enamoured with it when she realized she had something that was finally hers and just hers. No complaints about loud music or interruptions in the middle of her classes. No more deadlines or judgement about how she lived, she could be as messy, unhinged and complicated as she pleased and no one could call her out for it. The building had a yellow pain coat in the front and a few yellow roses to match. She struggled when opening the door and there were four flights of stairs, yet it was home.
"Not bad for the penthouse, huh?" she said once Harry had followed her all the way, carrying everything he has bought for her with some help from his driver, telling him to «come back at midnight for their date». And if he flushed while saying the word "date" she pretended not to notice.
"Cozy" she could guess that Harry wondered where she would put all her flowers. In a swift movement he placed them next to her sofa, close to the biggest window of her place. "You live here on your own?".
"Are you asking because you are a serial killer and somehow all of this has been part of your master plan to lure me into a sense of security where I could lower my guard so you can kill me while I sleep?" she ran out of air, the top of her concerns liquidizing her brain and any logic left in her body.
Harry gaped once, then he burst into deep, rich, generous laughter.
And oh, a sense of pride filled her body, satisfied to be the cause of it.
"Where did you got that from? A TV show?".
"I have a wild imagination" she defended.
He laughed more, placing a hand on his chest and holding onto the plastic chair of her mini dining room (if one could call a tiny table and two plastic chairs a dining room).
"You are adorable, had anyone told you that, preciosa?" Harry genuinely asked, still high from humor.
"No" she shoke her head. "And what does that mean?".
"It means that you agreed to get on a car with me and go on a date too but you had the doubt in the back of your mind if I was a serial killer" Harry chuckled.
"I mean, it was a win-win. Either I get a hot date or unalived. Seems good for me either way".
”Oh" when Harry grinned and stepped closer she knew she had made a mistake, but what, exactly? And why was her blood so hot with anticipation? "You think I'm a hot date, corazón?" Harry was basically towering her at this point, his eyes full of mischief and a promise of trouble in her stance.
She wanted to reply, to come with a witty, sarcastic, humoristique back, but all she could do was nod.
"Funny" Harry said, tilting up her chin between his thumb and index fingers. "If anyone of us is a hot date is definitely you".
"Me?" her response came instantly. "Yeah, sure".
"I mean it" Harry's eyes turned vulnerable. "Just look at you, the woman that you are".
He was going to kiss her, she knew it. With the certainty she could tell that the sky was blue even behind stormy clouds, or that Taylor Swift always had a song for everything, she just knew it. However, he didn't kiss her right away.
First he tuck a loose strand of dark brown wavy hair behind her ear. "You are beautiful. The most beautiful person I ever seen" he then slowly, agonizingly slowly, traced her features, the outline of her jaw, her pouty lips. "And you are funny, smart, and gorgeous".
"You can tell all that by just an hour of knowing me?" she breathed. And if the spell was to be broken fine, she had to get clarity for her peace of mind.
"I knew it from the moment you crashed into me, love".
"No, don't say that" she turned her face away from his touch, his scent and everything. "You don't know me. For all you know I could be the serial killer!”
"What's with you and serial killers, preciosa?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
"A lot of Law and Order: SVU and 9-1-1, I guess".
"I'm not gonna kill you, but as sure as hell I'm gonna date you. Hell, love, I'm gonna marry you" Harry declared, amusement in his sincere smile. "Give me twelve dates and I'll prove it to you".
"You'll prove me what?".
"What I knew from second one, love" Harry tried to approach again, this time slower, calmer, more confident. "So, what do you say?" he was close enough for them to breath the same air, he placed his hand on her cheek, making her look up, straight into his honest, sad brown eyes.
"12 dates, huh?" she hummed. "I think I can make that sacrifice".
"And I'm gonna kiss you".
"Yeah, I knew that".
"You are a little know it all, aren't ya?" their noses bumped against the other's, a lazy smile in their faces. "I like it" Harry said before kissing her.
And he kissed her. Oh, dear lord, he kissed her and it was wonderful. It was amazing, entrancing, mesmerizing, everything she ever dreamed and hoped for a first kiss to be.
"Scratch that, I fucking love it" he breathed before chasing her lips for more.
Before this she had never understood the «like water to a thirsty man in the middle of a dessert». Now she did. He crashed their lips with hunger, as if her body was the only thing anchoring him to existence he grabbed and sunk her fingers at her hips, pulling her impossibly closer at the same time.
"If you want me to stop just say the word, Love". he whispered between kisses, barely separating his lips from hers while guiding her towards the nearest flat surface.
"I don't want you to stop" she mumbled, locking her fingers at the back of his head, enjoying the feeling of the soft curls of his dark hair. "But just kisses" she breathed when his mouth went to her cheek, then her earlobe, the side of her neck and finally her collarbone.
"Of course" she could feel his smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and instead of pushing him away she grabbed his bicep, gasping at the surprise. He was strong and we'll defined, so firm and sure, that made her want to see him bare. "Then I guess we should stop".
"Don't you dare" she fisted the lapels of his jacket.
"Bossy" he mocked. "I fucking love that too".
"I'm just, I'm not ready to do anything more that kissing" she said as she took his jacket off, in the biggest hurry of her life.
"I totally understand, love" Harry was trying so hard not to laugh. She kept repeating how she didn't wanted to go anywhere further while unbottonning his shirt. He has a feeling that if he laughed she will punch him in the gut again.
"I just need..." her sentence was left hanging in the air, as she licked her lips and observe him. His chest and torso seemed made by the hands of an experienced sculptor, every muscle, every freckle perfectly chiseled "I- I. Just. Need. Need, uh, to..."
"What, love? What do you need?" Harry tilted her chin up with his thumb and thought she might say something like «feel you» or «have you» but what she ended up saying surprised him even more, leaving him speechless.
"I just need to make sure I am not dreaming" she whispered, her fingertips like a feather kiss on his skin. "I need to make sure this is real, that you are real".
She looked up at him trou her long eyelashes, all the turbulent emotions boiling inside of her threatening to spill out.
"It is" Harry grabbed his hand and placed her over his heart, the stammering of her best caught her by surprise. "This is real, love" he reassured her. "I am real, and I am not going anywhere".
"Promise me?" tears were forming in her eyes, everything suddenly felt too much, too heavy, too overwhelming.
"I promise" he let her hand wander through his skin, exploring avidly. Once she reached his belt both stopped. He stopped breathing and she stopped moving. "You better be careful, love. If you keep going I don't know if I'll be able to stop us".
"Are you hungry?" she closed the abysm of inches that separated them. "I think I have some Chinese takeout somewhere".
"Famished" Harry sighed in relief when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
She made her way to her diminute kitchen, serving the food in the nicest plates she had while Harry carried them to the coffee table in front of her khaki couch. She even propped a long forgotten bottle of wine.
"My uncle gave it to me when I moved here" she shrugged, handing it to Harry along the corkscrew.
"Casillero del Diablo" Harry read in perfect Spanish. "Nice".
"Do you speak Spanish?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't I just did?".
"Who's a know it all now, huh?" she joked.
"My grandparents were immigrants, from Mexico, actually. My mom is Chilean. I grew up being Henry in public and Enrique to the family".
"Enrique?"
"Spanish version of Henry. Harry once I went to college. Please don't ask" he raised his index, already knowing what she was thinking.
"But I have to. What is the Spanish version on Harry?".
"Preciosa, please don't" Harry complained and she pouted. He sighed, welcoming defeat.
"Quique" he replied. "And no, you can't call me that".
"What am I supposed to call you then?" she was grinning until he did too. "Don't".
"What?" he opened the wine and raised the bottle along both his hands, claiming innocence.
"You're not the only one who can read minds, mister".
The afternoon went by in a blink. They ate, drank wine and talked about everything and nothing. About Harry's privileged background and his aspirations when growing up (wasn't until he turned ten that he found out that space cowboy wasn't a real profession), about her job and her bright new life as a city girl, about their shared interests (both loved to read, listening to good music, the view of the city at night and a nice plate of sushi) and their differences (a 25 year gap that concerned him but she dismissed so easily that he fell a little more for her there and then, and their incomes, which blew her mind but Harry seemed to not being able to care less).
Naturally, evening was followed by night. They took their ice cream and a blanket and decided to watch the sunset from the rooftop. The city's sky turned the prettiest shades of oranges and pinks before becoming lavander and finally dark blue.
"So, where are we going for date number one?" she asked, legs crossed and head on his shoulder, feeling the most at peace she had experienced in a long time.
"Have you heard about Beso?"
"Beso?"
"Means kiss in Spanish. A friend is the owner and she agreed to close the restaurant at 11pm for us to have a private dinner".
"Private?".
"Not that I'm not dying to show you off soon" Harry caressed the skin of the back of her hand. "But a private dinner might give us a better chance to talk, to actually listen to each other and just relax, you know".
She nodded, her brain still replying the «dying to show you off soon», her veins buzzing with excitement.
Sure, she wasn't expecting any of this, but when Harry first asked her to buy her flowers back she made a decision in the heat of the moment: if this man wanted to shower her with money, gifts and attention she wouldn't deny any of it.
She owed to herself, after spending half of her life thinking this would never happen to her and even if it did, she wouldn't deserve it, like she somehow wouldn't be worth of it. Well, not anymore.
She was gonna take anything he'll be willing to give. And if 12 dates were his final offer, who was she to say no to that?
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OUR MOTHER TAYLOR SWIFT IS GETTING MARRIED!!!
so I figured we should celebrate reading about love, toasting to love, dreaming about love, falling in love with love
if she rewrote her prophecy there's hope for us all 🥺💕
