#gh20

[soulodreamin]

Fuck man as a Celtics fan this shit broke my heart... Get well soon Gordon we’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready

[kitcasey177]

Kwazii Baby Cute😸, Vol.1 (Song Strong) GH20😉😉

Copyright Ⓡ2012 GH20 Songs lullaby for Kids and Babies 1 to 13 years old.

Sonna Rele - Strong (Original)

GH20 - Baby Kwazii Cute (Animation version)

[gonzaintheskywithdiamonds-blog]

Can't Buy Me Love - Parte 17

Can’t Buy Me Love - Gonzalo Higuain fanfic

Parte 17. Esta es la versión en español de Can’t Buy Me Love. Espero que les guste y me digan qué piensan por el askbox! :)

17

Después de escuchar a Marcia, miré por la ventana, pensando en muchas cosas a la vez. Ese día había decidido ir a darle el sí en cuanto a la misión en El Congo. Sentí cosquillas en todo mi cuerpo al pronunciar esas palabras. Tonta idiota sensible, me reprendió mi fuero interno.

—El lunes recibiré más novedades—me contó, y tomó un sorbo de café—. Y el miércoles me enviarán los formularios y fichas de salud—me sonrió. Luego se inclinó y me tomó gentilmente de la mano—. Me alegra mucho que hayas aceptado, Vicky. Sos muy valiente.

Le devolví la sonrisa, pero en mi interior pensé en lo incompatible que era la palabra “valiente” con mi persona.

—Necesitaría también que de hoy en adelante pases más tiempo en el Hospital—dijo—. Vas a tener que desviarte un poco de lo que es tu trabajo en el Centro.

Asentí, comprendiendo. Ya me lo imaginaba.

—No hay problema, Marcia. Tengo que estar preparada—afirmé.

—Muy bien, querida. A lo largo de la semana irás conociendo a los colegas que también nos acompañarán. Te van a encantar. Ya sabes que todos ustedes fueron elegidos por razones en articular, razones que los hacen especiales—alegó Marcia, y yo sentí un ardor en las mejillas—. Ya te vas a ir enterando.

Volví a asentir. Había mucho qué hacer y mucho en qué mentalizarse.

___________________________________________________________

A la mañana siguiente, decidí ir primero al Centro para hablar con el Doctor Mendez sobre los acontecimientos futuros. Sabía que él no tendría ningún problema, ya que cuando le mencioné lo de la misión no había hecho otra cosa que sentirse orgulloso, pero tenía que organizar lo que sucedería con mis pacientes. Mi trabajo en el Centro también era primordial, por muy prometedores que fueran mis demás proyectos, ya que con el mismo, en realidad, había ganado todo mi prestigio médico. No podía desligarme de él así porque sí.

—Deportóloga y próximamente una cirujana pediátrica con todas las letras, ¿cómo se le ocurrió semejante combinación? —me preguntó el Doctor, riéndose.

Yo también me reí.

—Jamás lo había pensado—admití— ¿Está seguro que no quiere que me busque yo misma un suplente?

—Usted no se preocupe, querida. El Doctor Gorey ya accedió a tomar sus pacientes. Muy bien le viene al amateur—señaló, con tono irónico.

—No sea malo—dije, pero también me tuve que reír.

Así que ya estaba todo arreglado. De todos modos, no dejaría de ir al Centro hasta el día del viaje. Encontraría la manera de hacerme algún tiempo entre las residencias interminables en el Hospital. Simplemente me resultaba inevitable. El Centro era mi templo y siempre lo sería.

Saliendo del despacho del Doctor Mendez, me encontré con Mónica. Nos saludamos animadamente.

—Ya casi ni nos vemos—señaló ella—. Pero bueno, eso es lo que pasa cuando tenemos a alguien que nos pase a buscar…

—Callate, tonta—espeté, muerta de vergüenza—. No estoy siendo muy indiscreta, ¿o sí?

Mónica me palmeó el hombro, riéndose.

—No te preocupes—miró a su alrededor—. Todos siguen pensando que sos una oruga asexuada.

Estallé en risas.

—Perfecto—reconocí, sin poder dejar de reír.

— ¿Qué? ¿No sos más una oruga? —me cuestionó, entrecerrando los ojos maliciosamente.

—Ya no sé ni lo que soy, amiga—expresé, sin más.

Mónica ladeó la cabeza, contrarrestando lo que dije.

—Todas somos mariposas alguna vez—alegó, queriendo sonar seria, pero terminó riéndose.

—No tenés remedio, Mónica—proclamé, y me incliné para saludarla—. Me tengo que ir. Nos vemos.

—Cualquier cosa que pase, te aviso. Y por cierto, por favor preguntale a tu sumiso si no tiene algún amigo para mí…—dijo, y me guiñó el ojo.

Me reí.

—No le voy a preguntar nada a… ¿cómo le dijiste? —inquirí, ya algo retraída.

—No seas egoísta. Con un Sergio Ramos me conformo…—expresó, risueña, al mismo tiempo que la saludaba con un beso en la mejilla.

¿Sergio Ramos? ¿Y ese quién era?, me pregunté. Tendría que investigar al respecto. Es decir googlear. Mientras me alejaba, negué con la cabeza. Sólo yo me relacionaba con gente tan extravagante.

Salí del Centro extrañando mi camioneta. No la tendría conmigo hasta quién sabe cuando. Resignada, recorrí la avenida principal camuflada entre el tumulto de gente anónima que invadía la ciudad. Cuántos problemas, cuántos embrollos mentales, cuánto estrés debe haber solo en esta cuadra, consideré. En sí, la gente me agobiaba, pero también me preocupaba.

Mientras caminaba plácidamente por una galería, a la cual no le presté la más mínima atención, escuché el quejido de una voz. Por instinto, me di vuelta automáticamente y divisé a lo lejos a un niño que estaba tosiendo. Por la forma en que lo hacía, comprendí que se había ahogado. Estuve a su lado en menos de lo que canta un gallo.

En un apretón rápido y conciso, logré que devolviera el enorme caramelo que se había tragado. Mi instinto animal de reacción no me había permitido escuchar los gritos de su madre hasta ese momento.

— ¡Oh, por el amor de Dios, caíste del cielo! —oí que gritó no supe bien a quién, pero supuse por la cercanía de su voz que se había dirigido a mí.

Yo me enfoqué en el niño.

— ¿Estás bien, corazón? —le pregunté, agachándome a su altura y mirándolo a los ojos por primera vez. Entonces lo reconocí.

Y creo que él también.

—Te conozco—murmuró en voz muy baja.

Le sonreí.

—Yo también—le dije—. Pero que sea nuestro pequeño secreto, ¿eh? No llamemos mucho la atención—sugerí, y le guiñé el ojo.

El niño se rió y asintió, divertido.

—Muchas gracias, señorita—me agradeció la madre.

Me reincorporé otra vez y le sonreí.

—No es nada, señora—esclarecí, apenada—. Pero tengo que pedirle que por favor vigile los caramelos que le da a su hijo…

Antes de que pudiera terminar, ambos se echaron a reír.

— ¡Pero qué decís! ¡Es mi abuela! —exclamó el niño, sin parar de reír.

Sentí que el rubor invadía mis mejillas. La señora también lo notó.

—No te preocupes, querida, es el mejor halago que me hicieron en la vida… Gracias por eso también—dijo, y se rió.

Volví a sonreír, más apenada todavía. Pero queriendo ya irme, el niño me delató:

— ¡Chau, doctora Casti!

Caminé más rápido, haciendo de cuenta que no lo había escuchado, y una vez lejos, suspiré de alivio. Cerré completamente mi conciencia. No quería ni imaginar quién era esa mujer. Aunque de todos modos ya me lo imaginaba. Ya lo sabía, en realidad.

Sacudí mi cabeza, desechando esa certeza tan chocante, y proseguí con mi camino. Eclipsé mi mente porque sino la misma no haría otra cosa que colapsar. Las casualidades no significaban otra cosa que problemas.

Crucé la calle hacia la plaza, la cual estaba repleta de gente. Sonreí amargamente. Pensar que hacía unos días había estado allí con… sacudí de nuevo la cabeza. Me dispuse a recorrerla lo más rápido posible. Aunque para ello haya tenido que pasar justo al lado de aquella maldita fuente. Mierda.

Enojada debido a alguna extraña e inexplicable razón interior, caminé rápidamente, cegada de cualquier percepción exterior. Sin embargo, como siempre sucedía, algo iba a interrumpir mi cometido.

Aunque estaba cegada, ya lo había vislumbrando por el rabillo del ojo. Lo que me faltaba en ese insólito día.

— ¡Vicky! —exclamó, con esa voz que yo tanto odiaba, tan gruesa, tan desafinada y tan poco armoniosa. Me detuve en seco, resignada. Que alguien me mate, imploré—. ¡Vicky! —volvió a llamar.

Me di vuelta. No soy sorda, imbécil, quise decir, pero no lo expresé en voz alta.

Estaba sentado en la fuente. Al verme reaccionar, se reincorporó con ese ademán inútil y tan poco agraciado, propio del hombre desgarbado que no practica deportes, y me miró con esa expresión de perro lazarillo que yo tanto recordaba y odiaba. Se me acercó.

—Pensé que no me habías escuchado, Vicky—dijo, y me sonrió tontamente.

Intenté esbozar una sonrisa. Me salió tan falsa que la deshice enseguida.

—Franco—lo reconocí, e instantáneamente se desvaneció de mi persona cualquier voluntad de entablar una conversación.

— ¿Cómo estás? —me preguntó. Se me hacía imposible mirarlo a los ojos sin sentir desprecio. Bueno, en realidad cualquier mujer lo hubiera encontrado bastante atractivo. Aunque era alto y desgarbado, su rostro y porte estaban dotados de cierta belleza mundana. Llevaba el cabello oscuro un poco largo, peinado en un jopo, y sus ojos verdes chispeaban al encontrarse con los míos. Suspiré. Tenía que evitar ser tan aprensiva. Sí, él era Franco Niggel. Pero seguía siendo sólo un ser humano.

—Bien—respondí. Nos quedamos mirándonos. Oh, mierda, cierto que tengo que mostrar interés, recordé, y amplié mi respuesta—: Yendo a trabajar. ¿Y vos?

—Yo también, ¿vas al Garrahan?

Cómo carajo sabés que trabajo en el Garrahan.

  —Sí.

—Ah, bueno, porque yo tengo que ir al profesorado que queda para ese lado. Vayamos juntos—propuso.

No sabés qué placer me genera tu propuesta. Si es que con placer nos referimos a ganas de tirarse de un barranco al mar.

  —Claro.

—Hace mucho que no te veía. ¿Cómo va eso de la cirugía pediátrica? —me preguntó, mientras empezábamos a caminar.

Qué te importa.

  —Bien, estoy haciendo la residencia. ¿Vos?

—Ya sabés, estoy haciendo el profesorado de Geografía… me cuesta bastante, no soy tan genio como vos…—se río—... pero bueno, de algo se tiene que vivir…

Suspiré. Esto sería una tortura.

Franco me atosigó de preguntas durante todo el trayecto. Por suerte, eran preguntas que se podían responder con monosílabos, por lo que decidí empezar a responder al azar para ocupar ese tiempo en pensar en cosas más importantes. Como por ejemplo, en nada.

En ese momento, justo cruzamos la calle que se desviaba al medianamente conocido por mí “barrio de los rascacielos ricachones”. Mientras Franco me preguntaba si sabía algo de alguno de nuestros ex compañeros de curso, noté bastante alboroto en lo que era la esquina de esa calle. Varias personas se acercaban, murmurando entre sí, curiosas. Fruncí el ceño. Divisé a lo lejos una patrulla de policía. ¿Qué pasó?, me pregunté.

Justo en ese momento, en medio de aquella reunión de voces que murmuraban al unísono, se distinguió una en particular:

— ¡La puta madre! ¿Y ustedes qué miran?

Oh, mierda.

  —Vicky, ¿a dónde vas? —oí preguntar a Franco, pero ni me molesté en contestarle. Ya me había adentrado en aquel disturbio de gente curiosa.

Me abrí paso entre la multitud, hasta que me encontré con el escenario del hecho: frente a mis ojos había un Audi completamente abollado en el frente al cual lo estaban separando de una camioneta Ford que había quedado casi totalmente destruida.

Lo busqué con la mirada. Vislumbré que un policía lo estaba ayudando a salir del auto, a él y a su acompañante, que era un hombre joven.

Quise acercarme, pero otro policía me detuvo.

— ¿A dónde cree que va, señorita? —me preguntó—. Es un choque. ¡No puede acercarse!

Aunque era corpulento, me animé a apartarlo de mi camino.

— ¡Soy médica! ¡Córrase, por favor! —le insté.

El policía suspiró y me dejó pasar. Me acerqué corriendo al auto, que empezaba a largar humo, y vi que ya estaba fuera. De todos modos, me abrí paso entre los policías y me planté frente a él.

— ¿Estás bien? —le pregunté.

Gonzalo se percató de mi presencia, y al verme, abrió los ojos como platos.

— ¿Qué hacés acá? —me preguntó, malhumorado.

Fruncí el ceño.

—Montaste un espectáculo en medio de la calle, ¿cómo querés que no me de cuenta? —le cuestioné, ya perdiendo la paciencia desde el primer instante. Lo tomé por los brazos, examinándolo— ¿Estás bien? ¿Recibiste algún impacto? ¿Por qué no tomás asiento?

Él se apartó de mí y me miró soberbiamente.

—Qué importo yo, ¡mirá cómo quedó mi coche! —exclamó, y le echó una mirada lastimera al vehículo.

Lo miré totalmente indignada.

—No puedo creer que te preocupes por esa mierda ahora, ¡te podrías haber matado!

— ¡No fue culpa mía! ¡Fue el idiota de la camioneta! —gritó, señalándolo vehementemente.

Miré al conductor de la camioneta y volví a mirarlo a él, llena de rabia.

— ¡Es un pobre anciano, pedazo de inconsciente!

— ¡Y entonces qué carajo hace manejando un auto!

— ¡Ey, ey! Dejen de pelear, fue un accidente—interrumpió su copiloto. Lo miré. A diferencia de Gonzalo, se encontraba bastante calmo. Me pregunté quién sería. Luego desvié la mirada.

Toda la multitud nos estaba mirando atónita. Nos habían escuchado. Sentí un ardor en las mejillas.

— ¡Es esta ilusa, que prefiere defender a ese maldito viejo que casi nos mata! —impugnó Gonzalo, sin calmarse ni un poco. Volvió a echarle un vistazo al vehículo accidentado— ¡Mi auto! —volvió a exclamar, y creí por un momento que se largaría a llorar.

—Tranquilo, flaco, es sólo un coche—intentó tranquilizarlo su acompañante—. Ya lo vamos a arreglar…

Gonzalo lo miró con ira.

— ¡Sí, decís eso porque no es tuyo, boludo!—arremetió— ¡No digas huevadas!

El chico se impuso ante Gonzalo, mirándolo con arrebato. Ese gesto sólo podía demostrar que él era mayor.

—Bueno, a mí me bajás el tonito, pendejo, ¿eh? Que enseguida te bajo los humos de un saque…

— ¡Bueno, basta! —les pedí. Después lo miré especialmente a Gonzalo—. Y vos calmate un toque, ¿escuchaste? Alterás a todo el mundo.

El chico se echó a reír.

—Este es un pelotudo—dijo, acercándose a mí—. Creo que no la saludé, doctora. Soy Federico—se presentó, y se inclinó a saludarme.

—Un gusto, Fede—lo saludé amigablemente; no supe por qué, pero me inspiraba confianza. También me pregunté cómo sabría quién era yo— ¿Estás bien?

—Sí, no nos pasó nada—miró a Gonzalo—. Aunque me parece que éste se golpeó bastante la cabeza…

Gonzalo lo miró con mala cara.

—Se llevan bastante mal para ser amigos—comenté curiosamente.

Federico se echó a reír. Gonzalo se limitó a fruncirme el ceño.

— ¿Amigos? Ojalá—dijo éste primero—. Así tal vez no me lo tendría que fumar tanto. Lamentablemente salimos de la misma placenta.

Levanté las cejas, sorprendida. Ese día no acertaba ninguna.

— ¿Es tu hermano? —le pregunté a Gonzalo.

Él asintió de mala gana. Para ser tan simpático, era bastante malhumorado también.

En medio de aquel lío, pensé en todo lo que me había pasado en esa escasa hora. Necesito mi camioneta otra vez, pensé. Caminar por el mundo, mezclándome con todos, no era lo mío. Simplemente no podía creer en todas esas casualidades. Así que decidí denominar aquel trayecto como “el camino de las tragedias”.

  —Qué pena que no me conozca, doctora—dijo Federico—. Este rufián me vive hablando de usted pero no le debió decir un pepino de mí.

Gonzalo puso los ojos en blanco y se alejó de nosotros, destilando cólera y murmurando una maldición.

Me reí entre dientes.

—No te equivocas—afirmé, algo ruborizada por lo que el hermano había revelado.

— ¿Cómo hace para aguantarlo? Es el ser más denso sobre la Tierra—me preguntó Federico.

—Por favor, me podés tutear si querés—le pedí—. Y en cuanto a lo otro… diría que no tengo ni idea—me reí.

Él también se rió.

—No, igual tengo que ayudarlo en esto…—consideró—. No es tan malo como pinta, solamente que tiene un carácter de mierda a veces—dijo, riéndose—. Igual yo ya te conozco de antes. Atendiste a mi compañero de equipo Matías Sánchez.

Entrecerré los ojos, buscando en mi mente.

—Creo que lo recuerdo… ¿del Colombus Crew? —le pregunté.

—Exactamente—afirmó—. Me acuerdo que se había venido hasta acá destruido, incluso bastante deprimido, y volvió en menos de un mes como nuevo. Hacés maravillas.

—Gracias. En parte es la innovación médica que supone el Centro, que es realmente la solución del deportista moderno—especifiqué, orgullosa de mi trabajo— ¿Cómo se encuentra él?

—Está muy bien. Ahora lleva una nueva vida, y al verlo tan bien se me ocurrió preguntarle de quién había sacado esos consejos. Y me contó de vos y el Centro, y bueno, tuve que ayudar a alguien—le echó un vistazo a su hermano, que estaba hablando con un policía y mirando a su auto con tristeza. Miré a Federico, entrecerrando los ojos. Me sonrió— ¿Quién crees que le recomendó tu ayuda a Gonzalo?

Me le quedé mirando. Luego asentí, comprendiendo.

—Guau, Federico. Sos el culpable de toda mi desgracia—confesé, y me reí. En verdad lo era, corroboré mentalmente.

Se río.

—Perdón por eso. En serio—dijo, y volvió a mirar a su hermano—. Mejor voy a ayudar a ese chiflado. Ya vengo.

Le sonreí y lo observé alejarse. Ese día iba a llegar a su fin sin dejar de sorprenderme.

Hablar con el hermano de Gonzalo me había tranquilizado un poco, pero antes de que pudiera confirmar aquel estado, Franco apareció a mi lado.

— ¿Qué fue todo eso? —me preguntó, alarmado.

—Nada, no pasa nada—le aseguré, fastidiada, y me percaté de que a mi alrededor ya se estaba calmando el asunto. Ya no había tanta gente.

— ¿Quién es ese chabón? ¿Lo conocés? —volvió a preguntar en tono acusativo, como siempre lo hacía cada vez que me veía con un hombre.

—No molestes, Franco, no es de tu incumbencia, ¿por qué no te vas al profesorado? —le sugerí, entrada en enojo.

—No hasta que me digas quién es. De algún lado lo tengo…—volvió a mirar a Gonzalo, entrecerrando los ojos.

Resoplé, impaciente.

— ¿Podrías irte? ¿No ves que estamos en medio de un accidente?

— ¿Y vos qué tenés que ver con eso? ¿Acaso es tu novio? —me cuestionó, mirándome con mala cara.

Los ojos casi se me salen de la cara.

—Escúchame una cosa, pelotudo ambulante: no tenés ningún derecho de meterte en mi vida, y mucho menos de faltarme el respeto así. ¡Así que alejate de mi vista, no te quiero ni ver!

Me tomó del brazo posesivamente.

— ¿Qué? ¿Vos te olvidás de todo?—me preguntó, y para mi propio espanto, me guiñó el ojo—. Algún derecho debo tener después de lo que vivimos… Además dije que te iba a acompañar al Garrahan…

— ¡No quiero que me acompañes una mierda! ¡Soltame! —le insté desprendiéndome de él, tal vez exagerando un poco ya que no me estaba maltratando, pero ese idiota sólo me provocaba violencia.

—Pero vos... —empezó a decir, pero una voz lo interrumpió:

—Creo que la señorita dijo que la sueltes.

Franco y yo nos dimos vuelta. La expresión de Gonzalo no podía expresar más desprecio, sumándole el hecho de que ya estaba de mal humor.

Le dedicó a Franco una mirada antagónica.

— ¿Quién mierda sos vos? —le preguntó severamente, con una voz que causaba miedo.

Supe que en ese estado de ira él sería capaz de cualquier cosa, así que para evitar un conflicto me interpuse entre ambos.

—No, Gonzalo, no vale la pena…—le murmuré.

—Ah, ¿lo conocés a este boludo que no sabe ni manejar? —alegó Franco, bruscamente.

— ¡¿CÓMO ME DIJISTE, HIJO DE PUTA?! —insultó Gonzalo, totalmente fuera de sí, y se abalanzó sobre él.

— ¡BASTA! —grité, desaforada, y con una fuerza sobrehumana que no sé ni de dónde saqué, tomé a Gonzalo por los brazos y lo detuve. Él me lanzó una mirada asesina, pero luego de unos escasos instantes, en el que ambos nos hundimos en una sola mirada, percibí que suavizó, aunque muy levemente, el semblante, y resopló, como conteniéndose. Él mismo me lo había dicho: siempre necesitamos que alguien nos sostenga para no caer en la locura. Percibiendo que su respiración se calmaba, volteé el rostro, y me dirigí a su contrincante—: Andate, Franco.

—Sí, antes de que vomite—dijo Franco, muy cruelmente—. La verdad es que me decepcionas muchísimo, Victoria. Pensaba que no eras una cualquiera.

Y dicho esto, se fue, resoplando de fastidio.

Me volví hacia Gonzalo.

—Calmate…—le pedí, lo más delicadamente que pude, para lograr convencerlo de ello.

Me miró durante unos segundos, en el que le empezaron a brillar los ojos, e inesperadamente, puso su mano en mi mejilla. Luego abrió la boca, como queriendo decir algo.

—No, no digas nada—le ordené—. No hasta que te tranquilices.

Se río suavemente entre dientes y me sonrió, con esa sonrisa torcida que calaba hasta lo más profundo.

—Ya estoy tranquilo—aseguró. Sin embargo, de repente, su sonrisa se desvaneció y retiró su mano de mi mejilla. Yo, intimidada por su distanciamiento, lo solté— ¿Quién era ese estúpido? —me preguntó.

Los nervios me invadieron. Tragué saliva.

—Es un ex compañero de curso—expliqué.

— ¿Y qué es eso de que “tiene algún derecho después de lo que vivieron”? —masculló, frunciendo el ceño.

Sacudí la cabeza y cerré los ojos. Mi mente ya no daba más.

—Mira, no es importante, en serio…—intenté decir.

—Victoria—sentenció él—. Decime quién es y qué tiene que ver con vos.

Lo fulminé con la mirada.

— ¡En todo caso no te importa! —exclamé. Toda mi paciencia se había acabado ya— ¡No tenés derecho a pedirme explicaciones!

Él se acercó a mí, mirándome con vehemencia.

— ¿Qué? ¿Él tiene más derecho que yo? —cuestionó.

Toda su tranquilidad se fue por la borda. Y la mía también.

— ¡Por el amor de Dios, déjenme en paz!—proferí— ¡Franco, vos, y todo el mundo, DÉJENME EN PAZ!

Gonzalo se acercó a mí y me sostuvo de la misma manera que yo lo había hecho hacia unos instantes.

—Victoria—volví a decir—. Contestame eso y te dejo en paz—lo miré, arrebatada, buscando compasión—. Contestame o no te vuelvo a habl…

—Fue un compañero de escuela con el cual tuve algo, ¿está bien? —interrumpí rudamente—. Y lo odio con todo mí ser porque una vez se aprovechó de mí, estando yo en estado de ebriedad, y me besó a la vista de todo el mundo—tomé un respiro; estaba hablando muy rápidamente—. Desde ese día se piensa que tiene algún tipo de poder sobre mí, ¡pero no! ¡No lo tiene! ¡Y nadie tiene ningún poder sobre mí, ¿sabes?! ¡Nadie! ¿Eso es lo que querías saber?

Respiré con dificultad durante unos momentos. Él apretó los labios y bajó la mirada.

—Tendría que haberlo golpeado—susurró. Movió la cabeza de un lado a otro, meditabundo—. La sola idea de que estés con otro hombre me enferma…

Volví a respirar con dificultad. Estaba al borde de las lágrimas.

— ¡No tiene por qué enfermarte!—puntualicé.

— ¡Bueno, pero me enferma igual!—exclamó él— ¿Qué querés que haga, Victoria? ¡Decime qué querés que haga!

— ¡Ya te lo dije! ¡Que me dejes en paz! —arremetí.

— ¡Por Dios, no dejan de pelear un segundo!—interrumpió Federico, que recién había aparecido—. Si siguen así, se van a terminar casando…

Gonzalo y yo lo fulminamos con la mirada.

— ¡CALLATE! —gritamos los dos al mismo tiempo.

Federico levantó las manos, en señal de paz, y retrocedió unos pasos.

—Está bien, está bien…—murmuró—. Estos están todos locos…

—No importa, yo ya me voy—aclamé, determinante.

—Bueno, te veo mañana—dijo Gonzalo.

Abrí los ojos como platos.

— ¿Qué?

—Como escuchaste.

— ¡No, no te quiero ni ver!

—Bueno, pero yo sí.

— ¡Me importa un cuerno!

—Nos vemos, Victoria.

— ¡Andate a la mierda!

—No puedo, ni siquiera tengo coche.

—Entonces no podrás ir—sonreí maliciosamente.

—Ya buscaré la manera.

— ¡Bien! —farfullé, con un bufido.

— ¡Bien! —bromeó él.

— ¡No te burles de mí!

—Tranquilizate, Victoria.

— ¡Estoy muy tranquila! —dije y lo pasé de largo, acercándome a Federico.

— ¿No me vas a saludar? —preguntó Gonzalo.

—No—respondí secamente. Me incliné a darle un beso en la mejilla a su hermano—. Chau, Fede. Un gusto conocerte. Me alegra que la estupidez no sea genética.

Federico se echó a reír.

—Me caes bien—admitió, sin dejar de reírse—. Nos vemos, Becky.

  Le sonreí y me volví, ya yéndome. Al hacerlo, me choqué con Gonzalo pero no me importó y seguí.

—Nos vemos—dijo él, divertido. Me enfermaban sus rotundos cambios de humor.

En sí, él me enfermaba.

________________________________________

Me fui a dormir inquieta, con esa sensación extraña que sentía a veces sobre que ésa era la última noche de algo. Era muy difícil de explicar. Era tan difícil de explicar como todo lo que había ocurrido ese día.

Las casualidades, los infortunios, los hechos sin explicación… constituían en verdad grandes problemas. No supe cómo tomármelos. Tal vez eran una especie de advertencia. O tal vez mis miedos los convertían en advertencias. O quizás era común que esas cosas pasen, ya que la vida no es perfecta.

Al fin y al cabo, salir al mundo significaba eso, ¿no? Tener problemas.

Ya recostada en mi cama, me sentí distinta. ¿Qué pasaría mañana?, me pregunté. Temblé de frío. O temblé de miedo. Tenía que relajarme un poco. ¿Pero cómo?, me volví a preguntar.

Justo en ese momento, mi celular vibró en la mesita de luz. Esto ya es demasiado, pensé. Pero luego recordé que nunca nada es demasiado.

Tomé el celular. Era un mensaje de texto, proveniente de… oh, mierda.

Que conste que nada fue mi culpa. Bueno, tal vez un poco sí, pero eso no importa. La cosa es que mañana nos vamos a ver y sólo quería desearte buenas noches. Aunque la verdad es que no puedo dormir. Pero bueno, eso tampoco importa. Lo que importa es que lo voy a lograr, ¿sabés por qué? Porque siempre lo hago. Y a pesar de todo, aunque a veces no sepa ni cómo comenzar, ni cómo seguir, ni cómo terminar, nunca en tu vida olvides que siempre encuentro la manera. Siempre. GH

[gonzaintheskywithdiamonds-blog]

Can't Buy Me Love - Part 16

Can't Buy Me Love - Gonzalo Higuain fanfic

Part 16. Read and tell me what you think! :) There's algo a spanish version.

16

Lourdes Mario and approached us. Gonzalo got up and offered me his hand so I did the same too.

  “Hey! You don’t meet a footballer every day!” cheered my best friend's boyfriend, outlining his perfect smile. Mario was tall, athletic and with tanned skin, due to long hours in the sun of the deserts. His Arabic features gave him a quite exotic and unique air. It was amazing the beautiful couple he made with Lourdes, as if their beauty was coordinated to perfection.

  Once with us, Gonzalo offered his hand to him and greeted amicably.

  “Gonzalo, nice to meet you, che.” He introduced himself.

  “Yeah, we really know who you are.” said Mario, laughing.

  “Gonzalo, she's my best friend Lourdes and he’s her boyfriend and my friend too, Mario.” I duly presented, pointing to each.

  “Enchanted.” Lourdes greeted him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Vicky told me much about you.”

  Gonzalo raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled. I started to feel the typical burning in my cheeks. I gave a stern look to Lourdes.

  “Except the most important thing.” intervened Mario, becoming offended “How didn’t you tell us that he was the Pipa Higuain? That’s not okay. I would have brought my t-shirt.”

  “You have a Messi t-shit.” I reminded him. We all laughed. “Why do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” I asked the couple.

  “Simple, we were shopping and smelled your cupcakes.” Lourdes said with a laugh. “And well, we missed you. I hope we’re not interrupting anything...” She elbowed Mario and they looked each other as accomplices.

  “Not at all.” said Gonzalo quickly. “What is more... maybe you can help me to snatch her a couple of cupcakes. She refused all afternoon to give me one.”

  Mario and Lourdes laughed. The very friendly guy was starting to gain them.

  “That's impolite, Victoria Castell.” Lourdes chided me while she was heading into my house. “Right now I'm going to steal them.”

  “I agree.” said Mario and followed her.

  Before going too, Gonzalo gave me a smile.

  “Your friends have spoken.”

  “Is that they’re not ready yet.” I argued in my favor, and shut the door behind me.

  “That’s true.” said Lourdes from the kitchen. She and Mario returned to the living room. “We declare you innocent.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Thanks!” I exclaimed.

  “What were you drinking?” Mario asked, taking a seat at the table in the living room.

  Gonzalo also sat down.

  “Mate” He replied. “If the lady is about to heat more water, I make some to you, if you want.”

  “What kind.” Lourdes flattered. “You heard your guest, Vicky. C'mon, I’ll help you.”

  She took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen.

  “And, Gonza?” I heard Mario said. Judging by the noise, I think he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “When will you return to play? I heard you injured your knee or something.”

  “Well, yesterday they told me that next week I can return to the team.” told Gonzalo very friendly; as if he did not care about the fact that a complete stranger had a prior idea about him. “So I’ll train a lot to be for El Clasico.”

  “What a match, huh? But you’ll win for sure, Barcelona isn’t the same now...”

  And so they kept talking very animatedly about guy stuff. There would not have any problem between them, because they both were very outgoing.

  As I put the kettle on, Lourdes pushed me with the waist.

  “Mmm...” She murmured, mockingly.

  “What?” I asked indignantly.

  “I'm going to pass over the fact that you didn’t tell your best friend that Gonzalo was actually Gonzalo Higuain if you stop making the silly and confess that you like this guy more than breathing.”

  I opened my eyes widely.

  “Shhhhh!” I urged her to shut up. “Lourdes, are you fucking crazy?”

  “You're crazy.” She said. “For him.”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s not true.” I countered firmly. “By no means.”

  “Oh, for the love of God, Victoria!” yelled Lourdes, totally outraged. Again I reminded her to lower the voice. “Well, excuse me.” She whispered. She approached me. “Don’t deny it. You can’t lie to me. I saw how you looked at him. And I put my hands on fire that he looked at you in the same way. Moreover, you don’t imagine how cute you look together...”

  “You're talking bullshit.” I argued, already angry.

  “Please, Vicky... It's the first time you live this, my friend. I wanna help you.”

  “You help me so much not saying much bullshit.” I attacked again. “I won’t be with him just because you think ‘we look cute together’.”

  Lourdes sighed.

  “Don’t lock yourself into a Chinese wall. If I didn’t know that you like him, I wouldn’t bother you. I know a lot of this, Vicky, and...”

  “Well, but I don’t know anything!” I interrupted annoyed, and went to the kitchen cabinet.

  Lourdes sighed again. After a few moments, while I was looking for a packet of sugar in the cupboard, I noticed her footsteps behind me. I felt she hugged me.

  “Do you know how good it would be for you to open your heart at least once?” She said quietly. I surrendered to her affection, and feeling the first tears in my eyes peeking, I accepted her hug and put my hands over hers, which were tenderly around me. “It would end the sadness, Vicky, that damn sadness that haunts you day to day and makes you decay, obscuring the beautiful person you are...” She passed her head gently on my back and placed a kiss on my shoulder. “I'm not saying this guy is the love of your life, Vicky. Maybe he won’t be anything for you. But don’t close yourself, my dear. Someday you have to give life a chance; you have to allow yourself to be loved... You might think that love is very overrated, but tell me, an empty life, so empty of it, would be more worthwhile than try it at least once?”

  “I can’t, Lourdes.” I expressed in a weak voice. “Simply I can’t.”

  “You're denying, as always. Today I observed you carefully. I noticed how you looked scary at Gonzalo, with that face you always make when someone tells you you're doing something wrong, or when you looked for me in the classroom, at school, do you remember? You looked for me from the other side of the room, quite far because the teacher separated us, because you felt bad and needed me. You look at Gonzalo in the same way.”

  “I'm not ready, Lourdes. I'll try it someday, when I grow up or when I simply overcome all my problems, but not yet. Much less with Gonzalo.”

  “Seriously, my love. Don’t feel that I'm pushing you with this. I just want to stop seeing that sad look on your face. I swear that it gets me sicker every day; I suffer horrors every time I look at you. If you don’t like this guy, I understand. Maybe I'm wrong. But I hate that you're always sad. You are like this since I've known you, a thousand years ago. I want to come here and see that you look at Gonzalo or any other boy with alight eyes, carefree... And you have beautiful eyes, my friend. Stop locking yourself in you. Stop hiding what you feel. Love, affection, cute things exist; they’re not an invention of the books that you read so much. Seriously, I repeat: this is not about the guy who is talking to my boyfriend out there. But it’s likely that perhaps in the depths of your soul you like him and you’re repressing that, because you’re a masochist, like you’re just in love with your sadness. Enough, Vicky.”

  I nodded, understanding.

  “When I’m ready.” I said, not wanting to reveal much. It was hard for me to navigate with ease in these personal situations, like I was the only human being unable to express her feelings.

  “Well, that’s enough for me. For now.” She emphasized and gave me a slight pat on the face. “Anyway, you progressed a lot. You let him come into your house.”

  I laughed bitterly.

  “Did you see? I'm not so bad.” I commented, approaching the oven. The cupcakes were ready. When they got to the surface, they flooded the atmosphere with an exquisite aroma. Hope this make me wanna eat something, I thought.

  “That's good. To invite a man to your place isn’t indiscreet, my friend. Unless that, well... you know.” She laughed.

  I had to laugh too. Tears drained into my eyes again, keeping themselves for another opportunity.

  “That will be a real dilemma.” I said, with double intention, and trying not to think about it.

  “You’re still a little girl. You’re developing. The first thing now is that you stop being afraid of people, mostly men.”

  I sighed, wishing a different life.

  “The first thing now is these cupcakes.” I said, determined to end the debate on my emotional life.

  Lourdes helped me to carry the famous cupcakes and everything needed to continue drinking mate to the living room table, where the gentlemen present were chatting as if they knew each other from all life long.

  “... And then I told Favalli <<because of that boomerang-shaped bone shit you found while you were drunk you made us come to the ass of the world thinking that we would find a dinosaur and we come to find out that it's actually an old rhino horn, go and fuck yourself, man…” told Mario, laughing.

  Gonzalo burst out laughing.

  “What the fuck? Have you gone to Africa only for a horn? I would send him to hell.” He muttered, laughing.

  What gentlemen, I thought.

  “Seriously, man. It was a wasted trip, and we were so excited and all...” Mario became aware of our presence and smiled at his girlfriend. “I had to get away from my sweetie almost a month because of a delirious drunk, I should have killed him...” He extended his hand to her, inviting her to come, and Lourdes inclined to give him a brief but tender kiss on the mouth. Diuuu, I hated mentally, upset about that flashiness. I took a brief look at Gonzalo, who rolled his eyes but did not seem uncomfortable. “At least he was fired.” added Mario, and we all laughed.

  Gonzalo was sitting in the end of the table as if he was the house owner, for my own annoyance, Mario was in the left side and Lourdes in the right. Well, they are more interested in talking to him, I thought, and resigned, I sat next to Mario, as far as possible.

  “How crazy that palaeontology thing.” said Gonzalo while he prepared the first mate. “You might meet with many disgusting bugs... I'd rather run a thousand minutes before that...”

  Mario and Lourdes laughed. They looked fascinated. Surely they already loved him.

  “At first it's horrible, you suffer hunger, cold, you're in the middle of nowhere... but then a prehistoric skeleton or an unidentified fossil appears you manage to reveal things from the past of humanity and well... that's priceless.” said Mario, proud of himself. “Must be the same as you feel when you're in a stadium full of people who yells at you.”

  “Sometimes they yell ugly things at me.” stressed Gonzalo, wincing.

  “What ungrateful people.” said Lourdes. “You are there running like crazy men, and they insult you as if there was no tomorrow, but of course... then you make a goal and for them you are the geniuses, the idols...”

  “The story of my life!” said Gonzalo, and they made a “gimme five” affably. Mario laughed.

  “Don’t believe her! She actually hates football and if she knows something, it’s because she has to put up with me every Sunday watching the thousand hours of Futbol para todos*...” (Note:* <<Futbol para todos>> is an Argentinean tv section where everyone can watch all the football matches of the Argentinean league for free).

  “Yeah, it makes me sick.” said Lourdes, biting her lip with nuisance. “It seems that he loves Ramon Diaz more than me...”

  “Are you a River fan?” Gonzalo asked, surprised. Mario nodded, pleased. “Awesome.” He said and they made a “gimme five” too.

  I looked at my hands. I had nothing to offer in that lovely group.

  “The first mate is for the hostess and exemplary cook, Victoria Castell...” Gonzalo said and handed me a mate.

  I took it without making any comment.

  “Don’t get ahead.” said Mario. “We haven’t tried her creations yet...” Then he took a cupcake and brought it to his mouth. “Mmm... Excellent, my friend! The best thing I ate in years...”

  “Hey, yesterday I made lasagna...” recalled Lourdes, pretending to be offended. “But yes, they are delicious, Vicky. I want a dozen for my birthday, okay?”

  “All right.” I said, speaking for the first time since I sat down, and tried to smile. I also took one to distract myself. I glanced that Gonzalo was testing one.

  “Mmm...” He savoured, deliberating. “Well, it was worth the visit...”

  Mario and Lourdes laughed with amusement. Yeah, they love him, I thought bitterly.

  “Che, Gonza, in which part of Madrid do you live? Because my parents also live there.” Lourdes asked.

  “In La Moraleja. But I’m going to move away, so I don’t know where I'm going to stop.” said Gonzalo, laughing at the end.

  “Ah, yes, I know where that is.” Lourdes nodded. “Rich are, huh?” She looked at my direction. “You rub shoulders with wealthy people, Vicky...” She said, and laughed.

  I dedicated her only a crooked smile.

  “Madrid just lacks a sea to be a perfect city.” said Mario.

  Gonzalo nodded.

  “So true.” He agreed. “Although it’s not a good place to go for a refuge. You live quite piled there.”

  “You know what place is good? Ibiza!” exclaimed Lourdes, laughing.

  The other two laughed, with those faces of complicity that only lucky people know to sketch. I leaned back a little in the chair. Simply I had nothing to say. As usual, I was the scum of the sociable time. But on the other hand, I was happy that at least they could get on well.

  Mario, Lourdes and Gonzalo kept talking about different parts of the world, among which I could rescue Mexico City, Milan, London, Miami, Paris, New York and others, because I was not paying much attention. I devoted myself to drink mate, immersed in my own thoughts. If I was going to Congo, I would leave the country for the first time in order to help humanity. Even in the travel aspect I abstained myself to enjoy. Instead they travelled for pleasure, because they wanted to, because they could. Because of their jobs, in the worst case. In Congo I would get rid of any kind of satisfaction. I can not get satisfaction from the misfortune of others. I go because it was my duty, my primary concern as a human being. I feel so overwhelmed, too different from those three people sitting at my table. I wanted to have that unconcern they had. While I had the instinct of duty, they spent their time looking for the personal enjoyment, the good time, the delight. The life.

  I sipped the mate bulb quite absorbed. Stop thinking like a lunatic, my gut told me, you're as insignificant as them.

  I laughed at my own cruelty. No, they were not insignificant. They were great human beings. Their lives were great.

  “Before you leave, Gonza, you should come to dinner with us.” invited Mario, who then turned to me. Oh, no, don’t involve me in this, man. “Take him home on Friday, Vicky.”

  Too late.

  “Well...” I began. Before I could answer something coherent, I felt the pain of a kick under the table. I looked at Lourdes, who looked at me pretending to be indifferent, and containing the pain I finally answered: “Sure, no problem.”

  Mario smiled.

  “Awesome.” He glanced at his watch. “It's late, isn’t it, my love? We have to go.”

  The couple stood up, but before going to the door, they said goodbye to Gonzalo.

  “Nice to meet you, Gonza.” Lourdes said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

  “The same to you.” He answered. Then he turned to Mario and he greeted him with a friendly handshake. “Nice to meet you, che.”

  “See you on Friday, huh? Don’t let us down, champion.” Mario said, laughing.

  I accompanied them to the door. I greeted them both, and before leaving, Mario whispered to me:

  “Take care of yourself, huh?”

  I looked at him with a bad face and hit him on the shoulder.

  “Get out, you fool.” I said, and I could not help laughing.

  I had not closed the door when I found myself suddenly with Gonzalo in front of it.

  “I have to go too.” He said. He gave me a crooked smile, my favorite. “Thanks for the cupcakes. You were really quiet, though.”

  I rolled my eyes. Then I realized that we were too close to each other.

  “You all are too nice for me.” I said, and smiled.

  He stepped closer. I had him only a few centimetres away.

  “You're too perfect for me.” He said and put his hand on my cheek, stroking.

  I shook my head. I did not like to hear that.

  “Don’t say that.” I put my hand over his hand, intending to remove it, but unconsciously I left it there.

  “I see you, then.” He recalled, and his eyes sparkled.

  “Yeah, I have to take you...” I nodded, with feigned reluctance.

  He laughed musically. His voice detonated parameters of what male and beautiful it was.

  He leaned over to greet me with a kiss on the cheek, which lasted perhaps more than it should. Itself penetrated my skin and slid down my body, making me feel the most perplexing tickle of my life.

  I sighed, expressing him to stop, and he obeyed without complaint. We looked at each other for a moment.

  “Bye, Gonzalo.” I said and opened the door.

  “Bye, sweetie.” He said, and walked out the door laughing.

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “What an idiot...” I muttered, but surely he did not hear me.

  _________________________________________________________

    I decided to go to bed early, to mitigate the nerves. If I kept ignoring my state I would probably end in another relapse. I sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated in my life?

  I pulled out of the closet my pink nightgown. I laughed alone. I could not believe I was still using that awful and virginal pyjama. Then, in that moment, I realized something startling: that damned nightgown had witnessed most of my relapses. I did not need it at all. I looked at it with contempt and threw it to the floor. You had enough, I thought.

  I went to the closet and pulled out a narrow box that was still wrapped in its gift package. It had an inscription that read: <<For special occasions ;-) Love, your friend, Lourdes >>.

  I almost had a fit of laughter. I had completely forgotten about that gift. I opened it, finally. It had a giant and bright Victoria's Secret embodied in the box. Inside of it, there was a delicate black silk garment. Yes, it was a pyjama. Lustful as hell.

  I looked at it stunned a few minutes. Put it before you regret, my gut told me. I obeyed and ran immediately to bed, shivering. How could women be provocative, with the cold that is in the world? I wondered.

  Once sheltered in the warmth of my bed, I laughed again at my stupidity. I had been fighting with inanimate objects again. Anyone who witnessed my personal stage would think I'm senile. Well, at least I'm aware of that.

  I searched my music player and my headphones on the bedside table. I needed to relax. Too much had happened. So much human relations disturbance had stifled me a little. Being with Lourdes was my well-being and my condemnation at the same time. She was my ground wire. But sometimes rediscover the reality is not as good as it looks.

  I wondered if I would have to pay more attention to her. After all, Lourdes was a woman of the world, opened to any experience, knowing almost everything. What could be more sensible to pay attention to her, who knows what it's feels like to live really, or to me, who only lives, if I can still use that verb in myself, to see how the hours pass? I was not filled with anything. How could I give the reason to a person so empty, even if that person is myself?

  Stop. The idea was to stop thinking. I took the music player and put it on random. I want something to surprise me, I thought. Well... although much had surprised me that day.

  I started listening to "Make it wit chu" by Queens of the Stone Age. I had not listened to it for a long time. I knew it was a good song, but I had never paid much attention to it. I devoted myself to listen:

  You wanna know if I know why? I can't say that I do Don't understand the evil eye Or how one becomes two I just can't recall what started it all Or how to begin in the end I ain't here to break it Just see how far it will bend Again and again, again and again

  I wanna make it, I wanna make it wit chu (Anytime, anywhere)

I wanna make it, I wanna make it wit chu… Sometimes the same is different But mostly it's the same These mysteries of life That just ain't my thing If I told you that I knew about the sun and the moon I'd be untrue The only thing I know for sure Is what I won't do Anytime, anywhere and I say I wanna make it, I wanna make it wit chu (Anytime, Anywhere)

I wanna make it, I wanna make it wit chu…

  Wow. What a complicated and distressing song, I thought. It has a disturbing feeling of doubt, but that "I wanna make it with you" uncovers an undeniable determination, an irreproachable need, instinctive, urgent, without explanation. However, in all its complexity, I found it beautiful.

  I sighed. It was hard to admit I felt quite identified with the song. Maybe too much. Maybe Lourdes was right.

  "I would never get involved with someone like you," I thought again. And again I sighed.

  As I succumbed to the sound of the guitar solo, I closed my eyes and went to sleep, thinking about how changes may offer new realities and certainties that we did not have before and how I remembered him in songs now and anything that got in my way.

  And in that moment, then, I was certain of two things: first, that Lourdes was right. And second, I was in love with Gonzalo. Maybe too much.

[gonzaintheskywithdiamonds-blog]

Can't Buy Me Love - Part 11

Can’t Buy Me Love - Gonzalo Higuain fanfic

Part 11. Read and tell me what you think! :) There’s also a spanish version.

  Note: an asterisk (*) means a change of narrator.

      11

  Madrid, Spain.

  The night was cold and annoying. I frowned when I parked in the night club’s parking lot and looked in the rearview mirror to Nacho’s annoying friends, my other annoying friend. I resorted to him when I only aimed to have fun in incognito. But most of my true friends had girlfriend and they even had begun to marry and have children, so this night out ritual was a totally nuisance. Something annoying. <<Let's go on your car, which is bigger.>> Nacho told me by phone. Actually, he was a self-interested, like everyone. But he knew of places to forget everything. Four years ago, he was my salvation, my God of fun, my link to amazing women. Then I stopped seeing him when I met Rebecca. And when I broke up with her I sought his help desperately. In fact, my happiness should always depend on someone else. That was annoying too. And now, indeed, I did not know what the hell I was doing. ”Gonza, are you going to drink alcohol or not?” asked Nacho. “We have to choose a designated driver.” ”I don’t know.” I said dryly. ”With that mood he better drink a hogshead of beer.” joked one of his friends. Everyone laughed. I had to suppress an insult. ”I got it.” offered another. “Tomorrow I’ll drink to death.” We got out of the car and headed to the entrance of Buda, an exclusive nightclub from the outskirts of the city which I knew enough. Nacho was chattering nonsense with his friends. What assholes. And think that a few years ago I felt like a capo for going out with them… Well, at that time I was amazed by football, fame, money and the women that approached me. I did not care about anything and I felt great. But now I could not stand being alone nor stand being with someone. Everything was a bullshit. I was glad, if I can say it in that way, about the fact that there was not a single paparazzi at the entrance of the place. Nacho was an asshole but an expert. "I leaked false information about your teammate Cristiano Ronaldo telling that he would go to Kapital with his friends. Kapital is far from here. We’ll have fun in peace." He claimed. In another mood I might have defended my teammate, but I could not stand even my own annoyance. I sent everything to hell from the beginning. I felt the vibration of the deafening music in my ears and in my feet. If anyone found out that I was there, in a nightclub, in Madrid, instead of being in my rented apartment sleeping placidly across the sea, I would be in the middle of a mess. But I did not care. I decided to act like a fucking idiot again. I thought about reason I was brought up there while I went into the crowded hallway of the club. Nacho took us to the VIP area immediately because nobody had to notice my presence. I wondered what would happen if the press found me out. They would destroy me. I laughed at that thought. Actually no reason had brought me there. I took the plane amid in a confused trance, blinded by a strange anger that had endured since the moment I decided to travel so abruptly to that instant. Well, after all, Madrid was also my home. I needed to be there too. I guess. The VIP area was small, dark and comforting, as usual. Small for the exclusivity, dark for not recognize each other too much and comforting because well, it is supposed that we pay a lot for being there. In a flash, I recognized a few familiar faces, famous ones. That was good, because the silent covenant that we all remain (I did not see you, you did not see me, we did not see us) would keep me safe. We approached the bar. Nacho greeted the barman, Flavio, who then turned to me. ”Pipa, what’s up, chaval?” He greeted me, raising his voice to be heard. We hit our hands amicably. “I thought you were in Argentina.” ”Yeah, I thought so.” I said, trying to be clear in the middle of that mess, but my voice sounded pretty aloud. Flavio laughed. ”Hey, you came on a good night.” He said, outlining a rogue gesture. “El Elenco cast is here...” El Elenco was a cast of European girls competing for a spot on a TV show or something. The thing is that they were known for being hot. I smiled. ”Well, something must be done, right?” I joked. I sounded convincing. Flavio laughed again. ”I'll serve you something so you warm up...” He said, laughing. “These guys are terrible...” I heard he muttered as he walked toward the shelf of liquors. Nacho took me by the shoulder. ”Malena Costa is here, do you want…?” He started. ”We just arrived, Nacho.” I retorted, frowning. “I shift for myself. Get out and get fun.” ”As you wish.” He patted me on the back. “If you need anything, let me know it, champion.” Be advised to go to hell, I thought, but not expressed it aloud. I was greeted by many people while I was sitting there chatting animatedly with Flavio, drinking whatever was in my glass. I was able to recognize some people and I greeted absently the others, wondering who the hell they would be. In the end. The same as always. A while later, I felt someone touched my shoulder. “Gonza, hey.” I turned around. It was Pablo. I smiled and greeted him amiably. “What are you doing around here, huh?” I asked. “I’m giving a little show. You know, promotion thing.” He replied. “There are many girls...” He winked. “You’ll be fine, so.” I laughed. “You too, man.” He said with bad intentions. “I don’t know, I don’t know... Maybe.” I laughed again. Alcohol put me in a good mood. Momentarily. “I thought you were in Argentina.” He said, eyeing me suspiciously. Yes, I know, I thought. “Yes, I know.” I expressed aloud. “I missed a bit...” “I thought it was always the other way around, that you missed your place...” He guessed. Shit, this guy had to be so perceptive?

I nodded. “Whatever... How was it in London?” I asked, trying to change the subject. I talked to Pablo for a while until he had to leave to prepare his presentation. However, almost immediately, I felt that somebody touched my shoulder again. “How’s it going, handsome?” She greeted me. I turned around. I desperately tried to remember her name but I could not. It was much like Carolina or Catherine... She was blonde and stunning. I kept looking for her name in my mind. “Nothing, hanging out, you all right?” I asked, trying to be sympathetic. She did not make it difficult, anyway. She motivated me much, really. I made a lot of effort to not look away from her eyes... “Yes, you have to relax after work so, huh?” She winked and came pretty close. “You know much about that, don’t you, Gonzalo?” I smiled. She had a very strong, sweet perfume that overwhelmed me almost instantly. “Of course.” I agreed. Without wishing it I looked away... to her attributes. Good thing that I noticed it immediately and went back to look up. “It’s been a long time...” “You’ve been busy...” She said, becoming the victim. As she looked away, I took the opportunity to have a look at her red dress that left little to the imagination... I liked it, but at the same time ... I did not like it. I looked at her again. “What were you drinking?” I looked at my glass. I almost laughed at the fact that I did not know what I was drinking. “I invite you.” I offered and made a sign to Flavio, who returned me a accomplice smile. “Are you still single?” asked the girl suddenly. I nodded, watching her intently. She smiled. “You're having fun, then...” “If you want to call it in that way...” I said, not wanting to reveal much. Surprisingly, she took me by thechin. “I love your accent...” She said, looking at me deeply. What a woman, I thought. She looked around. “How about going out? This place makes me sick.” I smiled before answering, between bitterness and almost satisfaction. I knew well what she meant. ______________________________________________ I opened the door of my house with some difficulty. That low intake of alcohol made me feel so badly. Combined with the disaster that I had just experienced, it was quite a relentlessly unlucky crew. I wanted to die. I sat on the foot of my bed, and as I took off the shoes, I remembered the situation: Cassandra. Her name was Cassandra. I remembered at the moment she provocatively leaned her chest against mine and kissed me on the cheek and took me by the hand and led me to the private balcony of the night club. She closed the door behind us. I felt the outside cold wind hitting my face and how music was left behind. In this new calm, I realized what I was doing, but before I could do anything, Cassandra pushed me to a chair and stood over me. “Then we'll go to your house, right?” She whispered. “Discretion...” She laughed. I got angry. I had already enough with everything to tolerate that this bitch comes with that shit mockery of discretion. It was an ass kicking. She kissed my neck and began to caress me, but a wave of resentment shook me. The loud music had overwhelmed me but now I was getting annoyed. I frowned and looked at her. Instantly, she kissed me on the mouth. Oh, shit. A strange force moved me away from her in a millisecond. She looked at me puzzled. “What is it?” She asked with her squeaky voice. I felt stupid. What was I doing? Rejecting a woman? Just what I needed. I shook my head and leaned forward, taking her by the neck, and kissed her. My mind was full of astonishment. It lost the tuning as well as a TV. And then, an image came. Her image. I tried to suppress it, but it was also accompanied by an aroma. I could not stand it anymore. Oh, shit. I broke away from Cassandra abruptly. She looked at me elated, but then softened the expression when she saw mine, as understanding something. “You are thinking of someone else, right?” She asked, without hesitation. What the...? “I can see it in your face.” She smiled. “Only your body is here, you’re somewhere else...” No, it could not be. This woman was not a floosy. “No.” I refused and kissed her again. I tried to suppress my thoughts as I did it, but her face came to my mind again. She started kissing my neck. I closed my eyes to concentrate, and for a moment I got carried away. I felt that she deposited me kisses at the ear, along the neck and at the top of my chest... Then she touched me. “Mmm...” She sighed. But it was not her voice. Cassandra's voice broke with all my imagination. Resigned, I took her gently by the arms and moved away. I stood up, disappointed. I looked away. “Sorry, but I can’t.” I apologized clumsily. “What is it?” I was thoughtful for a while. Finally, I looked into her eyes and said: “I was thinking of someone else.” Embarrassed, I looked away. Cassandra approached me. “Don’t worry, I understand you.” She said. I looked at her with pity. “Cassandra, don’t mess with guys like me. You deserve someone who respects you, okay?” She nodded. “You're a good boy, Gonzalo.” She approached me and I smiled. “Good luck with that...” He patted my shoulder and went again into the place. And I was just out there thinking about her, who was a thousand miles away, across the sea. I lay in bed very upset. When something mobilized me, I always acted like a fool. I should never have gone out. Never should I have come back to Spain. I should never have ran away. All I had done was realizing things. I could not get the image of her face off my mind. I hated that she were walking through the world being unaware of her beauty and her effect on men. Her pretty face and big sad eyes flashed in my head. Moreover that sad eyes that were screaming for someone to protect their wearer. And she was like that: sad and beautiful. I realized that I had taken that plane to get away from her geographically, because although I had her by my side, we were away. But here, thousands of miles away, I felt her closer than ever. Again, like an idiot, I was involved in something that did not suit me. I took the phone and send the same text message as every night. She came back to me again, with a quizzical and adorable expression that was breathtaking at the same time. Cassandra and the other women of the world, no matter how beautiful and sexy they were, could not do anything beside that. It was a real and legitimate beauty. Girlish and feminine. Blushing and formal. Frightened and determined. Unique. It drove me to ruin. Damn Victoria. ________________________________________________ * I came home feeling cold and emptiness, as usual. That emotional hypothermia would kill me. I went to bed without dinner, as usual. And I got his text message, as usual: Good night. May you rest. GH Since he was gone, he sent me a message like that one at the same hour. He always changed the last sentence to make me know that it was not an automatic message. I sighed. I tried to sleep. But I thought about him, as usual.

[watchingyoulaugh-blog]

[retrojjk]

Se viene el cumpleaños de mi amoooooooooor.

[worshippingmygermangodagro-blog1]

M1Ö and GH20 on twitter

They are so cute *.*