AKA, the final bonus part of shape of you that wasn't posted here, but on wp. very much inspired by michael bublé's song 'home' back in 2017 that i finally finished writing a while ago. technically it can be read as a standalone os since that's how it was originally written as, but it also makes sense in the sofy universe. (just like another os i will post sometime next week that i *also* posted on wp but not on here)
ANYWAYS feel free to ignore if you've read it already, since i'm mostly just posting it here in case i need to reference it later!
may be surrounded by a million people i still feel alone, i just wanna go home
oh, i miss you, you know
He'd been on the road for eight months now.
He was grateful of all the success the Rollerband was getting; a worldwide sold-out tour, thousands of records sold, a renewed signing contract for another three years. He knew he was lucky, and he couldn't deny it.
Career-wise, he was happy, living his rock-star dream. His personal life was a whole different thing.
They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. And it was true, honestly. If he thought he loved his girlfriend before, he knew for sure now that he was ten thousand kilometers away. However, what they don't tell you, it's how hard it can get when such a distance is formed. He hadn't talked to Ámbar, like really talked, in two months.
Their relationship had gotten to an only-texting communication, with hello's and goodnight's texts received every day. The phone calls had reduced to once a week, if that.
It hadn't started that way, though. The first three months consisted of daily three-hours-long video calls, with the occasional visit if uni and her schedule allowed her, then they passed to a one-hour daily cellphone call... now they were lucky they even remembered to put 'i love you' at the end of their texts.
He didn't like it, not one bit. He knew where they were leading; he'd seen it first with Jim and Nico years ago (which was a reason he tried not to date anyone seriously), and then a few months later with Delfi and Pedro. Simón didn't want that for Ámbar and himself.
He checked the time; almost midnight where he was, so it'd only be around 7 PM in Buenos Aires. Her uni classes ended at three, so either she was at the J&R or doing homework.
Deciding he didn't have anything to lose, he pressed 'call' on his phone. Five rings later, she picked up, her beaming face appearing on his screen. Gosh, how he'd missed her.
"Aló, Simón?!" Her voice sounded a little breathy, but overall excited. He had to smile when he heard her. "How are you? I miss you," she sighed wistfully on the other side of the line. The hand she wasn't using to hold the phone went to her hair, twirling a lock away from her face.
"I miss you too," Simón answered, a small smile gracing his lips, "I'm coming home soon, only a couple of weeks more, little gem."
"It feels like too long, but at least it's sooner than eight months," she mumbled, sighing again, "how's Spain? Didn't you have a show tonight?"
"Spain's great, full of life," he remembered the crowd, screaming and singing along, "the show ended an hour ago. I'm feeling a little homesick, I guess," he admitted, "I wish I was there with you."
"Don't," she reprimanded him, shaking her head a little, "you'll be here soon, enjoy tour life while you can."
"That's the thing... I'm not enjoying it anymore." Ámbar went still at this. If it weren't for the tenue sound of music she was listening on her side and that he could hear through the phone, he'd have thought it's freezed on him; when he realized that wasn't the case, he continued. "It's been too long. I miss our bed, I miss waking up next to you, hugging you, kissing you... I miss our dog and I miss our friends. This life... it feels so empty, little gem." He wasn't ashamed to say he was close to tears. He loved touring, giving concerts in different parts of the world, meeting fans all over the globe... those were heavy pros. Simón just wished he'd have more time for his family.
"Don't think like that, Simón, please." She begged him, the little tremble in her voice gave away her emotions, her face had barely moved. Simón knew it was more for his sake than for hers. "I miss you too, so much it hurts sometimes. But this is your dream, love, this is what you've worked so hard for; don't let homesickness stop you from finding joy in what you love the most."
"I'll try, I promise I will. I just... I don't know..."
"I get it, I'm the same sometimes. But you must understand; we're not them, Simón." Her voice turned softer, understanding, and soothing. He loved that about her, that she seemed to know what to say and how to say it without a prompt given. "Do you know why they didn't work out? It's not because they loved each other less, or because the distance was too much. It was the pressure of feeling that if they weren't near each other, if they didn't talk to the other 24/7, their bond would break. It was too much, and it ended up leaving them strained."
"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to talk to me anymore?" he joked, his smile growing as she rolled her eyes.
"You're an idiot." She deadpanned, changing her position on the bed to recline her back on their bedrest. "Seriously, though, do you get what I'm saying?"
"Yes, love. I know I shouldn't care too much about how much we talk as it does not define our relationship but what can I say? I miss you." She grinned at him.
"I miss you, too. I'm always a call away," she promised him, but then she frowned, "unless I'm at class, then sorry, you'll have to talk to my voicemail."
He laughed, "I see how it is, a boring class is way more important than funny me. How's everything over there? How's my princess?"
"Always." She winked at him. "Everything's fine. I had lunch with my mom today, she made mushroom lasagna, I told her already that mushrooms taste like nothing, but she swears they're flavorful; I might go visit my dad tomorrow as well; he's been bugging me about having dinner with him and his family," he absentmindedly scrunched his nose at the mention of the fungi, he hated them, "Toppy is here, I can put you on speaker so you can talk to her, if you want. I can't promise she'll answer, though, she's been giving me an attitude lately."
"An attitude? You're rubbing on her, aren't you? When I get home, I'll come back to two Ámbar's instead of one." He teased her, earning a huff from his girl. "Let me talk to her, I bet she doesn't even recognize my voice anymore."
"You've always been her favorite, she will." She replied softly, and then it was quiet for a couple of seconds, while she took off the earphones' plug from her phone. "Okay, you're on speaker now. Toppy, babe, come greet daddy." Simón waited until he heard a 'thud' – followed by Ámbar adjusting her phone's camera so he could see both his girl and their pet- to speak again.
"Toppy?" Not a sound.
Before he could get sad he got no response, Ámbar spoke. "She's smelling my phone, talk again." She sounded amused, so Simón complied, cheerier this time.
"How's my favorite puppet doing? I heard you're giving mommy a bit of trouble. What happened to my good girl?" He wasn't done with his first question when the barking started, his pup's little whines sounded almost as if she was reprimanding his absence.
"She's missed you." His girlfriend exclaimed over the barking, chuckling at the way Toppy's tail swat rapidly.
"I miss her too." He sighed again, "I miss you both a lot."
"Just a few more weeks." She reminded him, her smile and tone wistful as she tried to contain the pup's wriggling body. He had to smile at that.
"Just a few more weeks." He echoed, the underlying promise loud to their ears. "I love you."
"I love you too." She paused for a second, before speaking again, "now please go to sleep, you look like you died a week ago." Simón laughed at that, but he knew better than to fight her when she was trying to take care of him.
"I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"
His words were met with a grin. "Not if I text you first. I love you so much, Simón."
"I love you more, little gem. Take care, okay? I'll see you as soon as I can." She sent him a kiss through the phone, before disconnecting the call. He stared at the screen for a couple of minutes, before the 'low battery' notification popped up and he had to charge it. The call left him feeling much better, so he decided to go to bed already.
Just a few more weeks ran like a mantra trough his mind, soothing his fears and anxiety. Just a few more weeks and I'll be home.
second and last thing i posted on wp that i haven't posted here ((i think)) feel free to ignore if you've read this on wattpad already, as i'm just posting it in case i need to refer to it later.
(not proofread. it never is)
prompt(?): domestic!simbar deciding to move in together (toanothercountry)
When her day began, she didn't imagine it'd end up the way it did. In fact, to Ámbar the day felt like an endless nightmare.
Between her washing machine breaking, one of her kitchen cloths accidentally catching on fire when she was making her breakfast, her car not starting and thus being late to her first class, forgetting an important paper at home and losing 1/5 of her grade for one of the toughest classes in her semester; Ámbar just wanted to call it a day and forget she even had to endure it.
"The professor told me he'd let me turn it the paper, as long as I added 10,000 words more; and hear this: he won't give me the 20% of the grade, but a 15%, tops." She still needed to get her laundry done, so she'd opted to come by Simón's loft (and Nico and Pedro's too) when her classes had ended. While she waited for it to be done, she'd grabbed a glass of wine while venting her boyfriend's ears off. "So now I need to find something to write about that's worth 1000 words of coherency, otherwise I'll be lucky to even have a 10%. And God knows I need it."
Simón kissed her head sympathetically, adjusting her head - previously leaning on his shoulder- a little bit closer to his neck. "You will, little gem. You're the smartest one in your class, I'm sure you'll find something and, it's penultimate semester, you can do it."
She groaned, "I wish it were as easy as that." He kissed her cheek this time, and she snuggled into him a bit more, needing his support to make her feel less stressed. "Enough of me, how was your day?"
He chuckled, "not as interesting as yours, I'm afraid. Did a little songwriting, had a video-call with a magazine, changed my sheets..." he winked at her, making her laugh.
"Aw, do you want me to give you a gold start? Maybe I should call your mom, tell her her little boy is a nice young man who makes his own bed." Simón leaned in to bite her cheek, causing her to and almost spill her wine all over the couch, and to prevent this, the red liquid ended up on her shirt. Technically, it was one of his, since today's clothes had been thrown in the washer with the rest of the laundry, but still, spilling wine on her clothes wasn't nice. "Simón!" she scoffed him, which only made him laugh at her. He told her to grab another of his old shirts, while he refilled her glass.
She stood up then, cursing him all the way to his room to grab one of the 'pajama' shirts he kept in his top drawer. Ámbar heard him call to her once she had put it on; "hey, is tacos okay with you for dinner? Or do you want me to order you something else?"
"What are the guys having?" she questioned, to prepare herself in case the others ordered less than what their stomachs wanted to eat, and later lead them to steal her food.
"Pedro's staying at Delfi's and Nico is out with his fling, so nothing." Simón answered her, entering his room with his cellphone at hand.
"Then the usual." She told him simply, her boyfriend nodded. "Hey, can I use your laptop to check my e-mail? My phone died."
Simón nodded again. "Sure. Hello? I would like to order two pastor gringas..." he left the room again, not before pointing at his desk, where his laptop was sitting on. She quickly turned it on, taking it to the living room to wait for Simón to finish the call.
Her boyfriend was one of those people who didn't put a password on the device itself, but on the archives in it (which were mostly lyrics, tracks, and unreleased songs), so it didn't take long until she had the browser opened.
Ámbar tried to ignore whatever Simón had open in his last tab, but the images displayed caught her attention.
No, it wasn't porn, nor was it anything compromising. At least not in that way.
Her boyfriend had a Real Estate website open, showing apartments in sale. However, that wasn't what surprised her – he'd talked about finding his own place before-, but that all the options listed Mexico City as their location.
He'd never mentioned moving back to Mexico. They'd planned vacations to his hometown Cancún, sure, but somehow in all their talks about the future she'd had assumed their plans took place in Buenos Aires, close to her family instead of his. She could deal with him going on tour for weeks – she didn't bear months as well as she did weeks, and for this he always flew her in- but to live in two different countries? How was their relationship supposed to work in that scenario? Would it even work out? Sure, she was almost over with her degree, but-
"Little gem," her eyes snapped from the screen to where Simón was standing, by the kitchen's door, "I ordered you an almond horchata, is that okay?" she kept staring at him. "What? Is my laptop giving you problems? Your mail?"
She sighed. "No, I actually haven't opened my mail yet." He gave her a confused look.
"Then what's it? You've been staring at the screen for at least two minutes."
"When were you planning on telling me you're moving to Mexico?"
His mouth shut, his eyes showed surprise and an underlying regret. "Uh... soon?"
"So it's true, then? You're moving there?" Ámbar didn't want her voice to sound as hurt as it did, but she couldn't conceal it, either. After all, this was her boyfriend, the guy she was in love with, and who she'd loved for years now... to imagine him living so far away from her, it hurt her deeply.
To find out like this, instead of from his own mouth, was like salt to the wound. Her already shitty day was turning for the worse.
Simón sighed, his demeanor showing he was ashamed of it. "It's an option." He pursed his lips slightly, walking over to the couch, taking the device off her lap to turn her body towards him. "I was planning on talking to you about this sooner than later, I promise."
"When? When you had already bought it? Or when I had to say goodbye at the airport?" she couldn't help but dab at him, her temper was talking for her right then, "and what do you mean with 'it's an option'? You're looking for a place already, surely it's more than simple 'option'."
Simón let out a sigh, a sign he wasn't sure how to explain it to her, "I- have you noticed how most of our label meetings have been taking place in México?" She nodded, it was hard not to. The boys and him didn't really leave the city unless they absolutely had to, which could be summed up in three reasons: touring, vacations, and meetings. She'd always frown a little when those meetings took place, because she couldn't really understand why they had to leave when their label had offices in BsAs, but never really dared to ask Simón, afraid she'd come out as clingy for not wanting him to leave her for a couple days.
"I just assumed all the 'important' people chose to meet there instead of flying down here."
He scratched his nape. "It's a little bigger than that. Their HQ has always been up there, and their offices here have worked on a smaller scale for years; however, they've wanted all their more... 'recognizable' artists to be closer for a while now."
"So, they're making you move there?"
"Yes and no. They've been nagging us since the beginning to move to Mexico City, but it's only now we've – well, I've- considered it as an option."
"Why? Don't Pedro and Nico want, too?"
Simón grimaced. "They've already been considering it for a couple of years." Oh. Now that she thought about it, Delfina had hinted multiple times over the months 'the possibility' of working in another country. She'd always assumed she meant taking international jobs for a short period while Pedro was out on tour too, but now she guessed she'd meant for her to imagine that possibility, too.
It seemed like she'd assumed lots of things, and it stung to know she'd been in the dark far longer than everyone else. Even Delfi – who'd been dating Pedro a considerably less time than she'd been with Simón- knew of this before her.
Which made her ask him once again. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because you're still in uni, little gem, and I didn't want to move somewhere else while you were here; I still don't. I had a plan, honestly; I was going to wait until you neared graduation to slowly get you used to the idea, and, well, I also wanted to wait in case we didn't work out." She pursed her lips as she was still mad, but knew he had a point. He always did.
"You could've talked to me sooner, though. We could've planned this way sooner, make it easier for both." Ámbar sighed out, trying to get her anger out with it.
"I know, I get it now, and I'm very sorry." He apologized sincerely, grabbing one of her hands to kiss it. "This in no way is me telling you I'm moving tomorrow and leaving you here, little gem, I'd never do that. Hell, I don't even think I could. It's just..."
"An option." She finished for him, sighing again. "I guess I- I don't know, maybe I could start looking at internships in CDMX? When- when would this take place anyway? And I have to talk to my mo-" her eyes widened, "God, my mom! What do I tell her if we go? She'll be all alone here!" Her voice sounded panicky even to her.
"Hey, it's okay, there's no hurry. We've already postponed this for years with the boys, another year or so won't change anything, in fact, we'll need all we can get to get papers and stuff in check. And your mom can always come with us if you're worried about her, no biggie." He told her, as if the three of them moving countries wasn't a big deal, or, y'know, extremely expensive.
"Do you seriously want my mom living with us, Simón?" she snapped at him, and immediately felt bad to do so. He was just trying to help her and then here she was, bitching on his offers. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just... overwhelmed, sorry." He shrugged it off.
"I was actually thinking of you two getting your own apartment but since you're oh so kindly offering to live together..." Her eyes widened once more, shocked. She hadn't realized she'd implied that. "... I guess we can either buy or rent one for ourselves and rent another for your mom."
"That's not what- I mean it's not necessary. An apartment for my mom and I would be okay if she even agrees to move."
Her boyfriend started pouting. "Are you saying you don't want to move in with me?"
"No, no, that's not what I mean-" she stopped talking once she saw a teasing grin on his face. "You're messing with me."
He shook his head, silently laughing as he reached out to sit her on his lap, hugging her waist tightly. "I'm not. I'm actually happy you asked me to move with you, so I don't have to when the time comes."
"I didn't ask you." She felt the need to point it out. "You just assumed I did."
"Because you assumed we'd live together. It's okay; if it were up to me I'd be living with you in a heartbeat, I've thought about it for a while."
She gulped. "You have?"
"Yeah, but since I'm living with two dudes and you're living with your mom... it just isn't viable." That got her thinking.
"Why haven't you gotten your own apartment yet? Any of you?"
Simón shrugged, leaning into their coffee table to grab their glasses. "Rent is cheaper when you divide into three, and all of us have been saving up to get our own pads for when we moved to CDMX."
"It was never a matter of 'if', was it? It was always a 'when' you moved." She already knew the answer, of course, so she didn't wait for him to answer. "What took you so long to do so? I'm sure you could've done so years ago, and now you're waiting for Delfi and I, I guess, but before? What held you back?"
He pondered it for a minute, didn't speak immediately. "Something always came up. At first, we didn't have enough money saved, then Nico's mom had an accident, Pedro wanting to stay until his little sister finished high school... then you. My guess is the universe was waiting for us to meet to let me leave the city." She couldn't help but laugh at this.
"You're such a corny guy."
"Only for you, little gem, only for you." Ámbar took a sip of her wine before snuggling closer to his chest, earning her a kiss on her hair. "So, are we doing this?"
She pushed the anxiety of the unknown to the back of her mind, she knew that if she overthought about it she'd find reasons not to. Instead, she took a deep breath, intoxicating herself with the smell of soap and lotion that lingered on her boyfriend all the time.
"Yeah," she sighed, "but we're doing this together."
"Together," he repeated, giving her hand another kiss. "I like the sound of that."
I’ve been owing you these for months and i’m very sorry about that! thanks again to the anons who’ve reminded me you guys are the best!
there’s a couple more parts i have started writing but haven’t finished yet (one of them being the definite epilogue) so lets have our fingers crossed they’re done this year lmao
i cant remember but it’s probs not proofread, sorry in advance
for all the previous parts click here
💫
💫
MEETING FANS
They’d been going out on dates for a month before it hit Ámbar that she wasn’t dating a ‘normal’ person.
Simón had picked her up after her last class that Friday, telling her the guys – as he called his band- had invited them out for drinks so they could meet the girl who’d stolen his time and mind. She’d been reluctant at first, not really in the mood to go out after a long, stressed week of mid-terms, but Simón’s puppy face had become something she just couldn’t say no to.
They had dinner at their place first, ordering Chinese take-out as she let herself be questioned by Pedro and Nicolás. Simón’s friends weren’t as bad as she’d thought, talking mostly at Simón’s expense and sharing embarrassing details of the boy she’d been dating, as well as setting up ‘the talk’, warning her to not hurt their friend. Ámbar found it rather amusing; Pedro and Nico didn’t give the intimidating pose they tried to pull off, but a goofy, joking one, even if the underlying warning was there. Simón had shaken his head, telling her to ignore them, but she ended up promising she wouldn’t, more to their amusement than hers.
Eventually they hit one of the near-by bars close to their apartment, Simón’s hand firm on her waist and both of his friends backing them up through the crowd. It was a Friday night, so she wasn’t surprised to see that many people around, but she did wonder how they’d find a table to sit on with so many people around waiting for one as well, and whom, most likely, had been there longer than them.
It was when Nicolás disappeared for five minutes telling them he’d go talk to the manager, so they could be seated that it hit her.
It didn’t take long before the four of them had a table and drinks on their hands. If it had been her and her friends alone, they’d probably had to wait at least an hour before they could leave find seats available, but she was with her boyfriend, who happened to be in a famous band, and whose name had a weight heavier than she’d expected. It was a strange feeling, but she wasn’t going to lie and say she hated it. She didn’t love it, either, but she wasn’t about to complain when she was on heels. She also wasn’t shy to ask Nico what deal he’d to make.
The guy shrugged. “We just have to post a picture of us and tag the place. I’ll do that before we leave, I don’t wanna get mobbed today.” It sounded like it was nothing out of the norm, so she shrugged it off too, sipping on her mojito, waiting for them to carry on their conversation about writing sessions.
They’d only been on the bar for an hour before a girl around her age came up to them, interrupting Pedro’s question about her classes; she felt the weight of Simón’s arm around her shoulders fall, and she’d frowned at the missing contact. Her boyfriend threw her an apologetic smile before turning to the – clearly tipsy- girl, asking her if she needed anything.
The girl started squealing how she was a big fan, and how she didn’t want to be a bother but that a picture with the guys would be a dream come true. Said guys all wore matching polite smiles – she wondered if they were practiced- and kindly told her they would if she didn’t post it right away, as they wanted to chill around for a bit more. The fan nodded multiple times, only turning to look at her to ask her if she could take the picture, her grin so big she was sure it hurt. The boys chatted her up for a total of five minutes, asking her standard questions before sending her off, begging her again not to post the picture right away. The girl said her goodbyes with shiny eyes and the biggest grin she had ever seen.
Ámbar would learn later that those were her favorite type of fans. The ones who were polite and only focused on the band, instead of those who’d throw distasteful glances at her whenever she was out with Simón, or those random people who clearly didn’t know who Simón and the rest were but wanted a picture anyway just to show they met them; she really couldn’t say those who tried to make a conversation with her were great, either, but that was mostly due to her inability to hold a conversation when all they wanted to talk about was Simón, how hot he was and how lucky she had been to snatch him up. She hated other girls objectifying him, and she hated that if affected her as much as it did.
Her least favorite, though, were those who couldn’t take a no for answer; those who, even when the guys asked for them to give them a little of space, kept shoving their cameras on their faces. Her encounters with those were only a handful, but watching her boyfriend get harassed had proved to be too much for her, as two out those times, Antonio – the band’s manager- had to hold her back from behind to stop her from smacking some people’s faces.
In the end, however, a fan’s glee at finally meeting a person they admired so much was contagious, and 9 out of 10 times it left her with a smile on her face. It wasn’t easy, knowing that at one point or another, your boyfriend will prioritize strangers ahead of you, but she learnt to deal with it. Simón loved making other people happy, so the happy grin on his face whenever he met them was enough reason for her to bear it.
💫
READING ONLINE ABOUT HERSELF
They’d been dating around three months when the first picture of them appeared online.
It was blurry, clearly taken by someone who was trying their best to be sneaky and quick, a prominent zoom if the way it was noticeable pixilated was any tell.
Sadly, it wasn’t blurry enough to couldn’t tell it was them. Simón’s face was fully displayed, laughing about something they were talking about, his arm around her while she rested her head on the crook of his neck, making only her profile visible. It’d been taken on one of their many lunch dates, half-eaten food in front of them told her so.
It went viral everywhere.
And so, the hunting for her identity begun. Every single media she knew of wanted to know her name, her age, where she studied – if she studied-, how they’d met and why he decided to date her. It escalated to the point of a magazine offering money for her information. Ámbar never felt luckier to go to a private university, where none of the people who knew her cared enough to sell her out.
Sadly, her relief lasted only a week. Simón was leaving the country to a meeting with their label when Emilia’s text reached her phone. ‘The cat is out of the bag; someone ratted you out’ following with the link of an article: ‘Meet Ámbar Smith: Simón Álvarez’ new flame’. Her breath caught on her throat, while her fingers flew to open the link. The more she read, the tighter her chest felt; they’d left no personal detail untold.
They knew her full name, they knew her age, her uni, what she was studying and the year she was on, that she was on a scholarship and had a nearly perfect GPA; that she lived with her mom and had a younger brother on his dad’s side, her mom’s job and her dad’s office. They knew she was a co-founder of The Fab and Chic, that it was her who’d interview him all those months ago, theorizing that was how they’d met and how long they’d been dating. They briefly mentioned his relationship with Matteo, too.
Ámbar almost started screaming in the middle of the airport. As if Simón could feel her mood changing, he turned around from where he was talking to Pedro to ask her if something was wrong. He’d asked her at least five times what the problem was, but she just couldn’t speak. It wasn’t until Pedro – or was it Nico? She didn’t remember- opened twitter and showed him what was happening that Simón understood. That’d been the first time she saw him truly pissed off.
“How dare they?!” he’d growled, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. Someone must’ve told him she was still there, because then he turned to her, his arms holding her tight and his tone going down a few octaves, softer. “I’m so sorry, love. I will fix this, I promise I will.”
Her mind went back to the conversation she’d had with Emilia months ago, about how the exposure of the article could get her name out there, how she wished it would. But now, with her personal information, with her life, only a google search away from the public, she felt sick. “This can’t be happening.” She started mumbling, her mind a chaos. “How did they find out? Who could sell me out like this?” Only a couple of people knew what was told to the media, and all of them were trust-worthy. Either one of those people was scum, or the magazine was very good at stalking and digging up information.
“Baby, no. I’ll take care of it, okay? I’ll speak to Antonio and he’ll speak to our lawyer and we’ll see what we can do, alright? I’ll sue them if I can, make them delete it-”
That made her snap. “It’s all over the internet, Simón! Nothing ever gets completely deleted there! There must be thousands of screenshots already!” Even to her ears she sounded panicked. Her boyfriend’s face fell even more, and she felt worse.
Ámbar knew he’d do everything he could to make her happy. He’d proven that to her time and time again, he always asked first what she wanted to do, what she wanted to eat, which movies she wanted to watch, for him, it was always about her and her wishes. It was her who didn’t want to divulge their relationship just yet, and now, instead of his fans finding out their way, from their mouths, they’d found out by someone else’s. And it was her own fault.
That only pissed her more.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, grabbing her hand to push her to his body, encircling his arms around her waist. She took a deep breath, trying to sigh out her emotions.
“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to help but I’m just- I’m so mad I just want blood to spill.”
“I understand.” He squeezed her waist slightly, “I’m serious, though. I can call Antonio and we can see how this can be… not as bad. I’ll sue them if that’s what you want.” She felt her heart swell with gratitude. As usual, though, she’d to ask him.
“Is that what you want?”
“This is about you, little gem. But yes, I do want to fight them on this. It’s not only your privacy being stepped on, but Silvana’s and your dad’s, too.”
“I want to know how they did this, and who did it. I want my parent’s info deleted as soon as possible, I don’t care about mine right now, but theirs I want gone.” Ámbar mumbled on his chest, knowing he’d hear it as his head was casted downwards, above hers.
She felt him nod. “I really am sorry, love.”
“Don’t be. I knew this would come sooner than later, and it was me who gave them time to collect my information, instead of me directing their moves.” She sighed out, mentally slapping herself for letting this pass by.
“It’s not your fault they’re assholes.” He tried to make her feel better. Ámbar just hugged him tighter. He held her for about a minute more, before excusing himself to call his manager and publicist and see what he could do.
An hour later, after Simón and his band’s flight had taken off, she’d received another text from her best friend. ‘He did it. It’s gone.’ She let out a sigh of relief.
But she wasn’t stupid. Ámbar knew this was only the beginning, and that, as much as she’d like, they wouldn’t be able to afford erasing every single article someone happened to write about her. It just wasn’t viable.
She did, however, promise herself that, the next time an article popped out about her, it’d be on her terms.
💫
GETTING PAPARAZZI’ED ON A DATE
It took the media another month before they got another photograph of them together.
Or, well, multiple pictures.
Simón had decided he wanted to take her to a ‘nice’ restaurant to celebrate the end of her semester. Ámbar knew this was also his way of coaxing her into going out for dates instead of the nights in she’d been convincing him to have at his apartment. It wasn’t that she was explicitly limiting them to stay inside the comfort – and privacy- of his home, but she wanted to take precautions in case anyone involved her parents again.
Whom, unsurprisingly, hadn’t heard of their info being leaked until she asked them if they were okay. Her mom had been taken off guard at first, wondering if she needed to change jobs or warn her boss about teenagers and grown men with a camera, but as soon as Simón told her it wasn’t necessary, and that he’d taken care of it, she’d dismissed the whole ordeal and asked her daughter’s boyfriend if he wanted to have dinner with them. Her dad wasn’t as chill. First, because he didn’t even know she was dating a famous band member, and second, he wasn’t thrilled she was exposing her life by dating one. He’d questioned her reasons, asking her if living in expectation of what the world had to say about her everyday was what she wanted, forever shadowed by her boyfriend’s name wherever she went.
She wasn’t proud to admit she’d snapped at him, throwing at his face that he’d left her mom raise her alone after she turned three, and that for that, he had no reason to butt in her relationship. She wasn’t even sure they were going to last, anyway. Nothing was set on stone when it came to relationships. In the end, he’d grunted out that he was okay and promised to call her if something happened, so she could talk to Simón and see what they could do. He also made Simón promise him he’d meet him soon. Ámbar still grimaced when she remembered how awkward that had been; her dad with his ‘hurt my daughter and die’ attitude, her dad’s wife all star-struck and giving out barely coherent responses to Simón’s questions, and her bored, not at all impressed brother making faces at his meal. She wanted to dig a hole and die.
Just like right now.
The dinner itself had gone splendid, the five-course meal always appreciated, especially when it came with a nice sized brownie and ice-cream scoop. She knew something was amiss when Simón asked for the check and the waiter told him it was taken care of. Not because it surprised her, but because it surprised him. She was used to Simón nodding, or even smiling when it happened. To see him frown, though, had her with her guard up.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered as she leaned to him, forcing him to look her way.
“I don’t know the owner, much less asked them to arrange this.” His voice sounded a little strangled, but he squeezed her thigh to not worry her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” He huffed, squeezing once more before excusing himself to make a call. She was left alone at their table, confused. The waiter – who hadn’t left yet- seemed to be anxious, looking over his shoulder a couple of times as he waited for Simón to return. She forced herself to smile at him, even when all she wanted to do was to run to her boyfriend and demand an explanation. In the end, she chose to call for the guy’s attention. The waiter’s eyes widened in surprise, but still walked to her side.
“Do you know who arranged for this?”
He gulped. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you anything, miss.” Ámbar threw him a glare, the one she knew expressed she wasn’t going to take anyone’s bullshit. “The- uh, the manager might’ve arranged for a couple of photographers to come tonight-”
Her glare intensified. “Did my- Mr. Álvarez’ team agree to this?”
The guy loosened his tie a bit. “We uh- well, the calls weren’t returned.” She pursed her lips for a second, nodding as she stood up to look for Simón.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from them very soon.” She didn’t bother to excuse herself, and just walked away.
Ámbar found her boyfriend walking outside the bathrooms’ hallway, angrily whispering to whoever was on the other side. She called his name, making him snap his head her way; when his brain recognized it was her, he threw a hast goodbye to the phone and hung up.
“Love, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know anything. The owner-” She raised her right hand, stopping him.
“I know, the waiter told me. What’s the plan?” Simón sighed heavily and got close enough so he could pull her to his body, encircling his arms around her. Something she’d learnt he tended to do when he was trying to comfort her, and his own anger.
“There’s only a couple of them out there, two or three, max. It’s not enough for Antonio to send someone over, and since this place collides with another building on the back, we can’t go out from there either. Both the principal exit and the emergencies one, are on the front.” He sighed again, the air hitting her neck, making her shudder. He must’ve mistaken it for fear, because he pulled her closer, cradling her head between his hands. “I promise I won’t let them publish anything. If I must pay them the double whoever called them over did, I will, princess… or I could go out alone and call you when-”
That made her scowl. “Don’t call me princess.” He smiled, knowing well she was only kidding – partially. Then it was her turn to sigh. “You don’t have to pay them anything, Simón. I can’t keep letting you waste your money to keep them off my back, it’s not fair. I- I think we should just… get it out of our way.”
“I don’t mind-”
She interrupted him. “I know you don’t mind wasting that money, but I do. I’m ready to take that step, Simón. I want to. Unless you see us breaking up soon – which, by the way, I don’t- there’s absolutely no reason to keep us hidden.”
He stared at her for a moment, before the biggest smile she’d seen on his face, appeared. “I don’t see us breaking up soon, either. Hopefully never.” Ámbar rolled her eyes.
“Now, don’t get too ahead on me yet.” His only response was to attach his lips to hers. He kissed her once, softly, pulling back slightly to breath heavily before kissing her again. This time he let his tongue roam over the ridges of her lips, and it took everything in her not to open her mouth to allow his tongue to meet hers; they were still in public, whether she wanted it or not. So, she let their lips part briefly, to then kiss him again, soft and gentle, before pulling away completely. “As nice as that was, we still have to deal with the problem here, buttchin.”
Simón pouted, showing off his chin dimple – aka, the reason of his nickname-. “Don’t call me that.”
She rolled her eyes again, smirking playfully, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, I want to go home and kiss you some more.” He was quick to drop the pout.
“Should I pay for our meal? I don’t want anything from them.” She shook her head, lacing her fingers with his as they walked to the entrance.
“And give them free publicity? Hell no. Just talk to Antonio and have them pay you back.” When she saw their waiter and a man approaching them, she glared at them, a deep scowl on her face, warning them to stay away. If she was going to allow this to happen, she didn’t want to do it angry. And talking to the person who had put her in the situation would surely anger her up.
As he helped her put her coat on, he took the opportunity to whisper on her ear a couple of instructions. “If you don’t want to show your whole face just keep your head down, grab my hand tightly and I’ll guide us to the car once it’s brought to us. I’ll chat them up and, if we’re lucky, they’ll just take a couple of pictures with the restaurant as our background. If you feel uncomfortable squeeze my hand tightly. If they ask me something and you’re okay with me answering, squeeze my hand once, twice if it’s a negative, okay?” By the time he’d finished talking he was already putting his own coat on. She merely nodded, offering her hand so he’d take it again. He counted to ten before walking them outside.
True to his word, there were only three men outside waiting for them. Ámbar was quick to lower her eyes, hiding half of her body with his as she leaned her forehead on his right shoulder. It was in times like this when she was thankful her boyfriend was tall enough so even if she was in heels, she could still use him as a shield.
“Good evening!” he chirped out, and she could bet all the money on the world he was faking a grin. They all chorused his greeting, asking him if he was okay with answering a couple of questions as they took their pictures. She squeezed his hand once. “Sure! What do you want to know?” his tone was cheerful, and polite.
“Did you two have a nice time?” one of the men asked, and Ámbar could hear the flashes going off. She squeezed once again.
“I had the best company, so yes.”
“Your girlfriend’s a beauty.” Another of them offered, making Simón squeeze her hand this time. She squeezed back.
It took him a second to respond, a little less cheery, but still polite. “She is, thank you.”
“How long have you two been dating? Some people had thought you had broken up after no one had seen you out for weeks.” The first men spoke again, his curiosity clear as water.
Ámbar gripped his hand once, sending a silent prayer to the skies for whoever was bringing his car to hurry. “A while. I think you can imagine why we laid low the last month.” His answer was enough for them to get the hint. They moved the topic to his album, getting two more questions before the sound of an engine told her his car had arrived. “I’m afraid we have to go now. Thank you, gentlemen. Have a nice evening.” Her boyfriend started walking again, leading her to the passenger side and opening the door for her, as usual. For the first time, she didn’t look back at him to thank him. Instead, she kept her head low, letting her hair fall to cover her profile. He was quick to get into his side.
It wasn’t until they had drove off for a couple of streets, that she looked up again, letting a long, heavy sigh leave her lips. Simón grabbed her hand again, kissing the back of it comfortingly.
She sighed again. Wishfully hoping for it to get easier, even if she knew tonight was nothing compared to other times she’d seen other people deal with paparazzies.
They’d gotten lucky tonight, who knew what it’d happen from now?
look at me forcing myself to stay on schedule lmao. not even close to proofread but y’all know that already.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
au: famous!simón meets college!ámbar
“It wasn’t a date.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It so was!”
“For the last time, it wasn’t a date!”
“Honey, he invited you for coffee, paid for your food, you both asked personal questions, he gave you a ride home… he freaking met your mom! It screams date. With capital d.”
Ámbar scoffed. “Freaking? What, you stopped cursing now?”
“I’m trying to quit; I almost said ‘fuck’ when my I.L. teacher asked me a question yesterday, he gave me the death glare and I thought for sure the vein in his forehead would pop and cover me in blood.” Emilia paused, “dammit, you’re a bad influence, I was doing so good.”
She raised her brow, “I’m not in charge of what you say, you idiot.”
“But you encourage me to curse, like the wicked witch you are.” She flipped her off, then. Emilia just puckered her lips up, sending her a kiss. “Anyway, your distraction ends now, stop swimming in your river and accept it; you and pinkboi went on a date.”
“My river?”
“Y’know, the Nile? Denial.”
“Hilarious.” She deadpanned.
“I would slay as a comedian.”
Ámbar decided she’d ignore her best friend for the rest of their lunch. It’d been almost three weeks and Emilia still hadn’t dropped the subject. So, what if it sounded like she had a date? Ámbar had very clear that it hadn’t been one, and she was sure Simón knew it too. Besides, she didn’t like him. Sure, they had fun, and sure, he wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected; but never, not once, did it cross her mind to see it as anything but an interview.
Which, by the way, had broken records on the Fab & Chic. Jazmín and Delfi hadn’t been happy at first that she’d gone solo and met Simón on her own, or that it’d been her who he gave the exclusive (that she didn’t know it was an exclusive in the first place) about the band nearly splitting up years ago; but the exposure (and money) other media and fans had given the blog in the last two weeks was more than enough to shut their mouths and be appreciative of it. Thanks to it, Jazmín and Delfi had been offered internships on two of the best magazines in the city, and a potential place for a future job to start their careers.
Ámbar, however, got enough money to pay next semester’s scholarship without her mom’s help. Maybe two more if she worked a summer job, and her dad sent her allowance on time; which he most likely would, since he didn’t have to pay two months of his little brother’s school.
She had thought of sending Simón an e-mail to thank him, or maybe even a card; but decided against it since the dude was, well, famous, and probably received thousands of those daily. The chances of him reading it were slim to none, and most likely than not, it’d go to junk-mail.
Plus, Simón really didn’t strike him as someone who read his e-mails.
“- Mrs. Álvarez.” Emilia caught her attention. “Ha! You responded to that! You must be thinking of marrying that dude and picking your children’s names and everything!”
She glared at her. “It was just a coincidence I tuned into your delirious words when you said it.”
“Nah-uh. Tell me, are you marrying in white? Beige? Are you changing your name to his? Will you have a girl or a boy first? It’s totally a girl, isn’t it?”
“We don’t change names here!” Her best friend ignored her, continuing her ranting.
“I can totally see it. A girl, with fake blonde hair, his curls, your face and his dimples; hopefully with his butt because, no offense, but yours is none-existing.”
“Are you sexualizing my hypothetic child?” Again, she was ignored.
“You should name her after me because I’m awesome. Think about it: Emilia Álvarez Smith. Oh, or maybe like that Mean Girls girl. Huh, Regina Álvarez Smith doesn’t sound that nice, forget I said that. What about a stuck up, bitchy girl? I had this classmate in México and she sucked. Her name was M-”
“Stop naming my non-existing daughter!”
“I’m sure pinkboi would love my names, no worries.”
“Then you have kids with him!”
“I have Benny already, and no offense, but he’s hotter than your boy.”
“You’re an idiot and I hate you a lot right now.”
Emilia smirked. “Now, now, don’t bring out the claws just because you wish your boy was hot like mine.”
Before she could retort with a sarcastic answer like she wanted, her phone vibrated on the table. Seeing Jazmín’s name on the screen threw her off; because she never called unless she needed Ámbar to do something for her and the blog.
“Hello?”
“Can I give your number to Simón?” As usual, the redhead never disappointed with her greetings.
“What?” Emilia arched her brow, silently asking who it was. When she mouthed Jazmín, her friend pretended to gag; she just rolled her eyes at her antics.
Jazmín’s sigh of annoyance was heard through the phone. “He e-mailed the Fab and Chic asking for your number. I’m asking you if I can give it to him since you’d probably kick my ass if I just gave it to him without warning.”
She would. “How are you sure it’s him? Does the guy even use his e-mail?” At this point, the other blonde was gesturing wildly to turn on the speaker. Ámbar just flipped her off.
“I e-mailed his agent and he confirmed it was his personal account.”
What did that guy want, now?
“Fine. But if I’m kidnapped or something it’s on you.”
Jazmín just hung op on her. She had been bitter two weeks ago, and she probably still was. Simón was her celebrity crush, and she was the biggest Rollerband fan she knew of; buttchin trying to contact her specifically must’ve been salt on her wounded pride. Not like she actually cared, but the boy wasn’t some thing, he was someone and Jazmín couldn’t call dibs on him like it was her property.
But, again, she didn’t like him. She just cared for his right to not be objectified.
“Well, goodbye to you too.” She muttered before locking her phone and putting it away on the table.
“What did gingerbread want now?” Emilia asked eagerly.
“Buttchin e-mailed the Fab & Chic and asked for my number. She was just asking if she could give it to him.”
The gasp that came out from her friend’s mouth should be illegal. The girl actually shrieked, “I told you! I fucking told you so! He liiiiiikes you!”
By now, half the lunch counter was glaring at them. “Would you shut up?” She hissed, “he doesn’t like me. He’s probably asking because the idiot forgot to ask for his beanie back.”
“Yeah, right. You seriously buy that bullshit? The dude is probably naming your kids right now.”
“What’s with you and thinking people are naming their kids?”
“Benny and I have. We’re naming one Bernardo and the other Esther.”
“Do you want your kids to be bullied?”
“My kids will be bad-asses, if anything they’ll bully.”
Sometimes Ámbar wondered why she was even friends with her.
She was relieved when she got home. Her classes had gone smoothly, and the workload had been reasonable; but Emilia’s teasing had hit a nerve on her that made her unable to turn off the topic in her mind.
She just wanted a shower, ice cream and a nap. Ámbar knew herself enough to accept that trying to do any work in that moment would be pointless and a sure headache.
Her bed was calling her.
And, according to her vibrating bag, so was someone on her phone. It was a blocked number, so she just let it go to voicemail and went to take a shower; if it was anything important they’d leave a message or something.
When she got out, she had ten unread texts.
Hey Ámbar, it’s simón
As in, Simón Álvarez
From the Rollerban
*Rollerband
I asked Jazmín for your # and she gave it to me, she told me she told you?
If you’re not ambar ignore these messages
I’m not actually simón from the rb
If you are tho please text me back
Or call me
Or something?
“He’s such a weirdo.” She muttered to herself, before texting a simple ‘it’s me.’ It only took seconds before he responded.
Can I call you?
No
He called her anyway.
“I told you no, buttchin.”
Simón didn’t seem to mind her greeting, as he sounded more amused that anything. “Then why did you pick up?” She didn’t answer, which only made him chuckle. “Sorry, but I really needed to confirm this was your number. It’s not like I don’t trust Jazmín but…”
“She hates me?”
“… It sounded like that, yes.”
She sighed. “She doesn’t. I think she’s just jealous you didn’t ask for her number.”
“Well, she’s not the one who stole my beanie. I have no reason to call her.”
“I didn’t steal it. You forgot to ask for it and I forgot to return it.”
“Sounds like stealing to me.”
“Do you want me to mail it to you or something?”
“Or something.”
“Well that surely tells me what you want to.”
He chuckled again. “One of my friends goes to your uni, and they offered to pick it up for me; if that works for you I can tell them to meet you in your faculty.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to come to my house?”
“As much as I liked your mom’s food and having dinner with you, I can’t. The boys and I are actually out of the country right now, that’s why I couldn’t contact you earlier.”
She was surprised when she felt a wave of disappointment course through her body. Did she want to see him again? Well, yes. But she knew she didn’t need to, and she was obviously not going to ask him to wait until he was back in Buenos Aires. Her pride was bigger than that.
“Then sure. Just tell me when and I’ll bring it over.”
“Awesome! Do you have free time tomorrow?”
She nodded, even if he couldn’t see her. “I have a couple minutes before my noon class. If they can meet me at 11:50 in the square, I’ll be waiting by the fountain.”
“11:50, square, fountain; got it. I’ll text them and confirm it later, alright?” She shrugged it off with an ‘okay’. “So, how are you? How were your classes?” Ámbar smiled.
He stalled their goodbye’s for another hour, promising to call her tomorrow after uni to see if everything had gone alright.
She didn’t do any work that afternoon, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that much.
The next morning, she was next to Emilia with the beanie on her hand; waiting for whoever Simón had sent, and just couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Out of everyone is this world, she really wasn’t expecting to her there.
“Da-amn.” Emilia whispered as Luna walked their way, the brunette’s grin as bright as the sun. Ámbar forced herself to smile back.
Only Simón would send her ex’s actual girlfriend to pick up his stupid hat.
the club isn’t the best place to find a lover so the bar is where i go
What is this you ask? I have no idea.
I’ve always wanted famous!simón with college!ámbar au-thingy and i was like “hey maybe this could be au enough for this one prompt i’ve owed barbara since the ice age” that i was supposed to post (and finish) by muffin’s birthday but then shit happened in my country and then i got (still am) sick so it came out so ???? that it’s basically forcing me to be make it longer than one chapter bc me is sick enough to think i can actually achieve this without disappointing any of you lol
ANYWAY this is famous simón + college ámbar + the beanie au mess (????) and i’m warning you that, it is, indeed, a mess xD
The night had proved to be a drag.
Music was loud, voices tuned out by the speakers and the booming voice of whatever rock band they were playing at the moment, so he had run off to a balcony outside the bar, where the chilly air would be clean of the smell of alcohol and sweat. It was well over midnight, but his friends seemed to be more awake than ever; Nico was off flirting with a girl, most likely asking for her number, while Pedro order them another round of drinks.
It had been a tradition for them to go out after a show, and tonight had been no exception. They’d found a nice middle ground club near the venue, far enough so not that many fans could find them, but not far enough to get lost and get cashed a fortune by the taxi drivers. Truth be told, he was in no mood to go out; now that they were officially home he just wanted to hide away in his apartment for a couple days, and sleep in his bed after the three months they’d been on the road, but his mates had insisted. It was the penultimate show, the penultimate night before they went on a break from the touring and start the writing process for their new album.
It was also to celebrate the end of their first arena tour in the continent, just the three of them, before their management threw a party with all their friends and family tomorrow and were distracted by their attention (personally, Simón couldn’t care less but, again, his friends had insisted).
He had thought of asking Luna to help him ditch, though he’d crossed the idea as soon he remembered she was high on the honeymoon phase with her new boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was to third wheel their date, or fifth wheel if Nina and her boyfriend were with them, too. So, he settled for having a couple of drinks, and help Pedro babysit Nico in case the blond decided to fly solo, or with the girl he was currently flirting with. That boy didn’t need another ‘16 fiasco.
Simón was brought back to the real world and out of his mind by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and found himself eye to eye with a beaming girl, her voice as cheerful as she looked, a tablet well positioned in her hands, “you’re Simón Álvarez!” she took his silence as an invitation to sit at their booth, “oh my gosh, I can’t believe it! I told my friends you would be here, and they thought I was crazy! But you’re here, and I was right and they weren’t! I can’t wait to tell them!”
Her words were spoken too fast, but he did manage to understand a couple, “wait, wait, wait; you knew we’d be here?”
“As a dedicated journalist, vlogger and one of the biggest fans the Roller-Band has in the city, it’s my duty to know where, when and with who you are, of course!” Her chirpy tone never faltered, and it made him feel a little uneasy. Ever after over five years in the industry, he still felt weird when people approached him this way.
“What?!”
“We dedicated fans take details very seriously, silly. Don’t worry, I won’t post the exclusive right away, and I’ll definitely get your good side in the video; though, if you ask me, there’s not a bad side, at all.” She winked, but quickly turned her attention back to the screen of her tablet; “so, tell me, Simón; what is a hottie like you doing here tonight? Relaxing after a tough show? I heard a girl threw her bra at you and you almost poked your eye with your guitar, can you confirm you’re not blind? Also, did Nico really cheat on his last girlfriend with a groupie? Is Pedro gay? I know a girl who would die to get this denied. The Pedro thing, I mean, because Nico is kinda lame, don’t you think? I say it’s his hair. Anyway, how does it feel knowing the tour is ending with a sold out show in one of Argentina’s most important venues? Are you single? Or are you dating that girl from Cancún like that magazine says, hmm?” the girl bombarded him with questions, almost making him mentally dizzy with the speed they were out of her mouth.
“Listen-”
“Jazmín.” She offered her name, grinning at him behind the tablet.
“Okay, Jazmín,” he nodded, “listen I appreciate the interest but I came here to chill and an interview really isn’t what I had in mind-” Jazmín’s face fell in disappointment, and he cursed himself for being weak, “- but I guess a couple questions won’t hurt, right?”
She was back to beaming in a second. “Great! Thank you so, so, so, so, so much, Simón! The Fab and Chic fans will die when I tell them I met you and got an exclusive!”
He tried to smile as excited as she seemed to be, “yes, great.”
“Okay, I can always add the intro later so, back to the questions, did the flying bra blind you?” Jazmín sounded so serious, and so genuinely worried that he had to laugh at the question.
“No, it did not. Though I’d really appreciate it if they stopped throwing them at us, we have no use for them nor do we need them. Keep your bras, ladies.”
“They’re too expensive to throw,” she agreed before asking again, “about tomorrow’s show-”
Simón kinda tuned her out for a moment. Because then, he saw her entering. It was almost impossible not to, honestly, since her gold dress was an eye-catcher right away, shinning in the dim light of the balcony. Her scowl was enough to see she wasn’t happy, and was glaring directly at them.
“Jazmín!” the girl in front of him tensed immediately, cursing lowly before locking her tablet and turning to look back where golden girl was standing at. “Care to explain what you’re doing? Delfina and I have been looking for your ass for half an hour!”
“Ámbar!” Simón couldn’t see her face anymore, but he was positive Jazmín was grimacing. “Look who I met! It’s Simón, from the Roller Band! I told you they’d be here and he agreed to give us an interview, isn’t it great?”
Jazmín’s friend’s icy glare was now directed at him. She examined him for a minute, her eyes searching for something that he couldn’t really pinpoint. In the end, her gaze ended up on Jazmín again.
“That’s going to have to wait, because Delfi needs you right now. She found the other bandmates, and wants you to film it for the blog.”
The redhead started protesting as soon as the blonde started talking, but her friend was having none of it. “Maybe later? Simón, here-”
“Now, Jazmín.” Her tone was final, and it worked.
Jazmín hugged him out of nowhere, snapping a selfie quicker than he could smile and left the two alone, murmuring something that made her friend roll her eyes at her. He waited for the blonde to follow Jazmín out of the balcony, but it surprised him when she made no intention to move. Instead, she kept staring at him.
“What? Is there something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
She shrugged. “I’m trying to see what the big deal is about you that Jazmín had to go behind my back to try and interview first.” Simón was sure he looked as confused as he felt, but the girl offered no further explanation.
“Oh? Well, I’m Simón, it’s uh- nice to meet you?” he offered his hand to her, expecting her to shake it like a normal person. Instead, she ignored it and got closer until she was almost in his personal bubble. He vaguely noticed she was short; not as tiny as his best friend, but short enough that even in heels, he easily towered over her.
“Ámbar Smith.”
At this point, it was getting awkward. Neither spoke, but her eyes never wavered from him; silently judging him. Never had he felt as uncomfortable as he was now meeting a fan as he was then.
“Uh, if that’s all then I guess I should get go-” she stopped him from leaving with her hand, grabbing his forearm lightly.
“You owe The Fab & Chic an interview, remember?”
“Right. Sorry, I thought that with Jazmín gone-”
The girl, -Ámbar- scowled at his words, “she wasn’t even supposed to interview you in the first place.”
“I wasn’t supposed to get interviewed, at all, in the first place.” He joked, trying to get rid of her scowl, and overall of the tense air that had been brewing since she’d joined him in the balcony ten minutes ago.
He was expecting a smile, or even laugh, but -as he was learning- the girl wasn’t into doing what he expected. Instead, a frown appeared between her eyes. “You’re right, you can go now if you want. I’m sorry if Jazmín or I ruined your night.”
She dropped her hand from his arm, and made a move to leave. Simón had to laugh, because a) she didn’t look sorry at all, and b) the half smile she was sending him looked more like a grimace than anything else. As soon as his laugh was heard, the scowl was back on her face.
“You didn’t ruin my night, Ámbar. I am, however, confused as to why you didn’t ask our management for an interview instead of stalking us at a bar.”
“We tried, but an interview for a college blog holds no interest to your manager. So, we had to use our own resources, and stalking you until we got somewhat-of-an-exclusive was Jazmín’s idea.”
Simón smiled. “An idea you still followed.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny his affirmation.
“I was overruled. Jazmín’s obsessed with the band, and Delfi -the other cofounder of the blog- is in love with your drummer, it was a lost battle.”
They fell into silence then. Simón thought it was cute (and lowkey creepy) that they had bothered and wasted time of their lives to follow them, since they were pretty boring dudes just enjoying making music, and did nothing interesting enough to be ‘an exclusive’. For real, the biggest scandal they’d ever gone through was when Nico ended his relationship with Jim over a year ago; and it was only a scandal because the idiot got so drunk he let himself get pictured with another girl a few days after it. Besides that, they lived a very lowkey life that had no drama; it took them months to learn it, but they achieved it and didn’t have to endure the scrutiny as often as other ‘celebrities’.
Just as she was to leave again, probably thinking he’d never agree to give their blog a chance, he spoke, “we can’t let your effort go to waste now that you’ve met come this far, can we?”
Ámbar’s head snapped in his direction, shock evident on her face as her lips formed a little ‘o’. He was still smiling, but as the sound of his phone’s alarm resonated in the balcony’s quietness, he realized just how late it really was. He needed to grab his bandmates before their manager killed them for staying up that late on a show’s night.
“Listen, Ámbar, I gotta go now before a search party is sent our way. I can’t tomorrow, since it’s the end of the tour and all but, uh, the day after tomorrow maybe?” he could tell she was still taken off guard, but she nodded anyway, “perfect! Then, uh, what about same place, but like, way earlier? Can you manage to come here at, say, 14?”
This time she shook her head, “I have class at 13, but I’m free at 15; can it be 16:30 instead?”
He grinned, “16:30 is perfect. I’ll see you then.”
Simón was halfway to the exit door when she called him back, “wait! How do I know you’ll actually show up and not stand me up?” He wondered for a second if she was being serious, but her frown and crossed arms made it more than clear that she was, in fact, waiting for a guarantee.
He wasn’t dumb enough to give her his phone number (they’d just met, and even if Ámbar didn’t strike him as someone who would throw him to the lions and betray his trust, he still wasn’t going to risk it) and since the only things he had on him where his wallet, keys and phone, he was at loss as to what he could give her.
His phone sounded again after the five minutes snooze passed, hurrying him to get out of there and find Pedro. Simón scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’d caught from Pedro years before, and then it hit him. As quickly as he could, he walked back to her, took off the wool garment off his head and put it on hers. It went a little lopsided, her head was smaller than his and wouldn’t fit as perfectly as it was used to being on him, but it fitted just fine. He allowed himself to think it looked cute. She was cute, after all.
Ámbar wasn’t as happy, though, “what the hell is this?!”
“It’s my favorite beanie, given to me by my grandma when the RB was formed, and your guarantee that I’ll be here after tomorrow. I really do need to go now, Ámbar; when did you see my friends last, can you tell me?”
“At a table near the bathroom; though, Simón this thing isn’t-”
He wasted no time, he kissed her left hand quickly, and ran out of the balcony; barely registering her -by now- almost non-audible protest.
Simón found a tipsy Nico and a very happy-looking Pedro sitting at the table a couple meters away from the bathroom; Jazmín chatting away to her tablet, and a blushing brunette talking to Pedro, a small notebook and a pen in her hand. He guessed she was the other cofounder of the blog Ámbar was talking about, the one smitten with his best friend; he knew he’d have to interrogate Pedro the next morning, his usually-shy-not-talkative friend looked way happy for someone who hated being interviewed.
“I’m sorry to cut your chat, ladies, but we have to go. It’s almost 2 AM and we have a concert tonight.” He interrupted, raising his voice so they could hear him from above the music. Nico started laughing at nothing, but Pedro was on his feet immediately, saying his goodbye’s and thank you’s to Jazmín and her friend. He smiled to the girls, before dragging Nico out of his seat and started walking towards the bar’s exit.
As soon as they were out of earshot of anyone in there, Nico asked him where he had run to, why had he ditched them when the girls attacked them for an interview (they hadn’t attacked them, Pedro denied, but they did take them off guard when Jazmín appeared with her tablet practically on their faces), and questioned his beanie’s whereabouts (at least he knew he wasn’t drunk enough to forget that he had one on when the night started). He explained them what had happened, his blond friend lost it.
“Simoncito has a date! Simoncito has a daaaaaateeeee!”
He snorted at Nico’s chanting, “I don’t have a date, I’m just helping them with their blog.”
Now it was Pedro’s turn to snort, “you realize the redhead got a selfie with you, and filmed your meeting before you even met her friend, and so you didn’t have to give her anything, right?”
Simón didn’t answer, groaning when he realized Pedro was right; who, in seconds, was on the floor laughing at his expense.
we talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour
yes, hi, this is still a mess. I do hope you continue to like it tho xD
Part 1, Part 2
au: famous!simón meets college!ámbar
She slapped him.
Not strong enough to leave a mark of her hand, but enough to feel the slight sting of the hit. Her face after she realized what she’d done, was so hilarious, he ended up laughing instead of being mad, or offended. Ámbar apologized – albeit, she didn’t sound that sorry, at all- and he’d waved it off, telling her not to worry about it. It had been his fault, after all; he was the one who had entered her personal bubble without warning, and made her react in the first place.
After he’d reassured her he wouldn’t sue her, or hold it against her in anyway, they’d resume with the interview. Simón told her all about their journey to get a label, the struggle it was for the three of them to live in a loft and obey all of Nico’s uncle’s demands to let them stay there, the process of songwriting and song-picking for each album. He told her what his favorite song was (Valiente), his favorite to write (Alzo Mi Bandera) and the one that left him bittersweet (Eres); he also talked about his family, his experience living in a new country and starting from scratch to pursue a dream he wasn’t one hundred percent he’d reach. She even got him to admit the Rollerband had talked about breaking up back in the olden days, and how he’d thought about going solo for a couple of months. That was the exclusive he’d promised, even if she didn’t know it was.
Simón asked her a bunch of stuff about herself, too. He asked her about her family (only child, her mom and dad never married), her friends (a girl named Emilia was her best friend, and she had the occasional friends from her uni classes), her career (she liked it a lot, was on a scholarship since her mom couldn’t pay her full tuition by herself and her dad had another little kid to worry about; she was aiming to be valedictorian, and wanted to have her own firm) and even managed to get her to admit she was single (her ex was too much like her, and liked his hair more than he liked her in a romantic way, apparently). The thing that had baffled him, offended him, and surprised him the most had been her dislike for pets. She thought they were messy (which they were), and too needy (true) and that their cuteness wasn’t enough reason to keep one (… maybe), and he just couldn’t agree on her on that one.
He loved dogs, he loved the companion they provided, loved how loyal and pure they were to show their love. She’d scrunched her nose at this, but admitted she wouldn’t know since she’d never had one to compare; her building didn’t allow pets, and her mom wasn’t one to take care of one either, so it was only natural for them to own none. Simón expressed he really wanted one, but that his schedule was too unstable to adopt one and give them the love they required. Ámbar had proceed to ask him if his girlfriend wouldn’t be up with adopting one with him, to which he just wiggled his brows at her, not denying, and not confirming.
By the time she felt she’d asked enough, it was a little over 19, and it was darker outside. She picked up her things and put on a sweater while he dropped their little plates on the bar, thanking the barista once again when the guy approached him to take the dishes off his hands. When he was back at the table, Ámbar was ready to go.
He led her to the door, his left hand on the small of her back; as they walked he made sure to look downwards most of the way, careful to not let his face show too much. The coffee shop wasn’t full of people, but there were a couple of teenagers sitting two tables down from them, and another elderly couple by the door; the action was more out of habit than anything else.
Simón opened the door for them, and then his passenger door for her once they were in front of his car. He watched her reaction, curious to know if this surprised her, or impressed her in any way. It didn’t. So, maybe her ex-boyfriend hadn’t been a total ass to her.
“Where to?” he asked as soon as he started the car; she leaned over his GPS to write her address. The little device told him her complex was only twenty-five minutes away from the coffee shop, and a little over ten from his own apartment.
They small talked for a couple minutes, comments about the weather and the traffic being thrown there and there along the way. He suggested she could turn on the radio if she wanted, or connect her phone to his Bluetooth if she preferred; which she agreed on.
He wasn’t surprised when Whitney Houston started playing, but he was surprised when she started singing along, and heard her carrying the tune like a pro.
“You have a pretty voice.” Simón commented, once the last notes of ‘How Will I Know’ stopped. Ámbar merely shrugged it. “Did you take classes, or is it a natural talent?”
“Natural, I guess. Mom sings a lot around the house, it’s a habit I picked on.”
“Well, you’re more than decent at it.” This time, his compliment was met with a smile. After that, she resumed her singing to 80’s songs, he joined occasionally when he knew the lyrics, or wasn’t passing intersections and had to stay alert on the road.
They were five minutes away when the music got interrupted by an incoming call from ‘Silvana ♥’, Ámbar turned to him and asked him if he minded if she answered with the Bluetooth; when he shook his head, she pressed ‘Answer’, and her mom’s voice resonated from the speakers.
“You close, sweetheart? I told you to text me when you were on your way.” Her mom’s voice wasn’t as reprimanding as her words were, but he could hear the worry in it, anyway.
“Yes, mom, I’m only a couple blocks away, now.”
“Did you take a cab? Do you want me to go down and pay for it? I’m still sorry I took your car today, darling.”
Ámbar shook her head, even though her mom couldn’t see her. “It’s okay, mom. Simón offered me a ride, don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”
There was a pause. “Is he hungry? I made more than enough pasta for the three of us, I’d like to thank him personally for bringing you home.”
“You mean you want to interrogate him and ask him for a picture.” Another pause.
“Maybe.”
Simón chuckled quietly at that. He looked her way for a second, enough to see her rolling her eyes at her mom’s words.
“Mom, it’s almost 20, I’m sure he’s tired and has other things to do than to eat dinner with us-”
“I wouldn’t mind.” He interrupted Ámbar, smiling innocently when she glared at him. Her mom’s squeals met their ears.
“Oh my, am I on speaker?! Why didn’t you tell me, missy?! Simón, darling, you’re more than welcome to come and eat dinner with us! I made this white sauce spaghetti that it’s to die for! I also have some chicken, or I could make you a quick milanesa if you’d like, too!”
“I’d love to, ma’am. Thank you.” He didn’t know it was possible, but Ámbar’s glare intensified.
Silvana chirped her goodbye, excited. “It’s no problem, darling! I’ll see you kids in a bit!”
“Why did you agree?!” Ámbar wasted no time reproaching him as soon as her mom hung up.
“Well first, because your mom sounded so nice I just couldn’t say no.” He shot a quick glance to Ámbar, noticing she wasn’t amused, “secondly, and most important; it’s Nico’s turn to cook tonight. And I would really appreciate if you’d save me from the stomachache or help me save money on take out.”
“Don’t you have more important things to do than to have dinner with a girl and her fanatic mom?”
He pretended to think about it.
“No.”
“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because I know this would make my mom’s week.” Simón whooped beside her, to which she rolled her eyes once more. She looked around, seeing they were already on her street. “Park near the green building.”
He did, turned off the car and got out to join Ámbar, who had opened her own door and was out already. She waited until he’d locked his car to start her way towards the building, looking back at him once to confirm he was following her. She opened the building’s gate, and then led him to the elevator, where she pressed the ‘2’ and Simón guessed (obviously) was her floor.
After the elevator stopped on the floor, Ámbar walked only a couple meters to their left, to a door that read ‘203’; but before she could even put in her key, the door opened and revealed a woman who couldn’t be older than 40. She, like her daughter, had her blonde hair a little under her shoulders, but her color wasn’t as light as Ámbar’s; their faces were slightly similar, but Simón was almost sure Ámbar took more after her dad than she did after her mom.
Silvana’s hazel eyes shined with delight when she saw him. “Simón! It’s so nice to meet you, darling! I’m Silvana, Ámbar’s mom.” Simón offered his hand, which she took excitedly, and pulled him into the apartment.
“Hello to you too, mom.” Ámbar complained from behind them, sounding annoyed at them. Silvana waved her off.
“I see you every day, Bee.”
“I can certainly feel the love tonight. Thanks mom.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Ámbar María.” At this, Simón looked over to her, silent question in his eyes.
“That’s not my middle name.” She denied, and he could see her anointment was turning into lowkey anger. Her left eye was twitching, and her mouth had turned into a scowl, which either her mom ignored, or was so used to it by now that it didn’t faze her at all.
“Did you have fun on your date?” Silvana asked him, leading him to their dining table, where three plates of spaghetti were served already, alongside a simple salad and a few pieces of home-made fried chicken. Simón could hardly help his mouth watering at the sight of food, his two conchas and hot chocolate hadn’t filled him as much as he’d hoped, and he was hungry again.
“Uh, it wasn’t a date, ma’am, but I had a great time.” He corrected as soon as he remembered what she’d asked, his mind too preoccupied with food to care.
Silvana’s cheery face didn’t change at all with his answer, “date, interview; it’s always the same, no?”
He laughed, “if you choose to see it that way.”
Ámbar, who had sat in front of him, rolled her eyes when he agreed with her mom; but chose not to speak her mind. Simón thought she knew how to pick her battles, and not even he could see her winning against her mom tonight.
Both he and Ámbar choked on their spaghetti when Silvana spoke next.
“Do you choose to see it that way?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, really, since Silvana chose he’d meant a yes.
Ámbar, however, almost threw a fit. Simón could imagine she and her mom would have a very long chat as soon as he was out of the apartment, since he would do the same had it been his mom trying to not-so-subtly to set him up with a girl. Still, neither Silvana or he let the mood go into an awkward place, and he didn’t leave as soon as he’d finished eating.
On the contrary, he stayed there until almost 22, when Pedro had called him to ask if he was still alive and if Ámbar hadn’t kidnaped him yet. Silvana was a good person to chat with, and Ámbar became a lot more open with her mom in the room, so he ended up learning more about her, too.
When his time came, Ámbar accompanied him down to her building’s gate, where waved him off to his car. A part of him was expecting a hug, or even a hand-shake, but then again; it wasn’t a date, and they didn’t like each other that way.
The yet rang in his head very loudly, even to him.
Simón wasn’t surprised when he found both Nico and Pedro waiting for him on the living room; the T.V. on, a sports channel reviewing today’s matches and announcing the next day’s.
“So, how was it, stud?” Nico wondered, moving his eyebrows up and down three times.
“It was great, for an interview and all.”
Pedro’s words were as teasing as they were unbelieving. “An interview that lasted more than five hours?” He could only shrug. “Well, did you at least get it?”
Simón didn’t know what he was referring to, “get what?”
“Your beanie. Did you get it?” His answer got him double the teasing and laughter.
come over and start up a conversation with just me
So... I could swear I did queue this for earlier today yet I can’t see it nowhere??? Can anyone confirm I’m not crazy???
As I said before (maybe) I had one of the shittiest weeks ever but at least I managed to do something with this. Yay me.
ps. when I said this was an AU, I really meant AU. Also: this is still a mess but I still hope you like it. here’s part 1 in case you missed it/can’t remember what’s about lol
That’s all, ily.
Stares.
She could feel them from all over the place; some heavy and lingering and some flittering, quick ones. Was there something on her face? On her clothes? Had she mismatched her outfit? Ámbar frowned before looking down at her white shirt and blue skirt, checking to see if everything was in order, but nothing was out of place. She wasn’t going crazy, she knew that. They were definitely, shamelessly, staring at her.
She huffed, glaring and rolling her eyes at everyone who was looking on her way to one of few the tables available; her mom had borrowed her car that morning without notice, leaving her to take public transportation to the faculty, which made her arguably late for her first class (she was ten minutes early for her teacher to arrive, but she was late to grab one the best seats in the room) and annoyed with the world.
She tried distracting herself by pulling out her cellphone to check the Fab and Chic’s comment’s page; Delfi and Jazmín’s interviews with Simón and his band had been posted the night before, making the blog explode with views, likes and comments. Ámbar had to admit she was not expecting those results; she had barely heard about the guys before she met Delfi and Jazmín in their Digital Communication class last year, their constant humming to the RB’s latest single was all she could hear when they studied for an exam, and it was so catchy even her mom became a fan that day.
She, however, never really saw the appeal. Sure, 2/3 of them were good looking, and they weren’t talentless, but there was nothing about their music that made them stand out for her then. Even after seeing them two nights ago, she still couldn’t fully comprehend it but she’d be lying if she didn’t say there was something about their guitarist that made her curiosity peak.
“What are you wearing?” Gastón’s voice sounded from her right, making her turn around quickly, tearing her glance away from her phone. He had a funny look on his face, his mouth forming a funny ‘o’, his eyes glued to her head.
“Clothes,” was her obvious reply. She arched her brows, daring him to clarify his point.
He took a couple of seconds to respond, - “no, no, no. I mean, what’s with the beanie?” he pointed to her head, where the black beanie she had decided to wear this morning was currently on. She knew she could’ve easily put it in her purse and keep it there until she saw Simón later that day, but she had tried it on after getting dressed and her judgment told her it looked cute enough to wear it for the day. So, she did.
“What do you mean?” Ámbar tried her best to sound as nonchalant as she could, even if her brain was sending warning signals all over her mind, which was very ridiculous, honestly, since there was no way Gastón or anyone for that matter, could relate it back to Simón since only Delfi and Jazmín appeared in the video the latter posted (Jazmín had been very careful not to mention her in any way, shape or form, still bitter about her 1 on 1 with her favorite band member).
“It’s spring, Ámbar.”
Ah, so that was what the stares were about.
“So?” she shrugged.
She wasn’t as strict with fashion as Jazmín was, which was why she barely posted on the Fab & Chic after their A was granted last year; and even then, she didn’t give it the same attention as her casual friends did, since the class had been an optative one for the Law student that she was, instead of a required one for their Communication career.
Gastón’s voice was disbelieving, “so you wear warm hats in a warm weather, now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry mister I-wear-Leatherman-jackets-in-summer, I didn’t know it was illegal to wear warm clothing after winter. Are you going to call the police on me?” her tone was sweet, yet coated with sarcasm. Gastón raised his arms in mocked surrender.
“Point taken.” Ámbar rolled her eyes, but made no further comment. The teacher was to arrive any time soon, and she didn’t want him to give her any negative attention; the old man would surely put her on the spot at a point in the class, most likely to answer a question only he knew the answer to; he was that kind of asshole. Her stupid friend didn’t get the memo, because just as their teacher was walking in, he decided the blurt the most incriminating words one could say in a classroom. “Let me copy your homework?”
Professor Asshole’s glare was enough to make her groan in frustration.
It was going to be a long day.
Lunch couldn’t have come soon enough.
Professor Asshole not only embarrassed Gastón and her in class, but refused to grade her homework too. She protested -quite loudly, actually- and it got her another essay due before the end of the week, as if the four she had already for Thursday wasn’t enough. By the end of the reprimand, she was ready to kill Périda the next time she saw him; the idiot was smart enough to flee as soon as the teacher dismissed them.
Her next class wasn’t as bad; however, her mood had been ruined already and couldn’t pass as quickly as she hoped it would. By now she was hungry as well as pissed, and in need of a cup of coffee and a sandwich to at least calm one of her burdens.
“Well, don’t you look dandy, my love.” Her best friend greeted her as soon a she stepped in front of their table, smiling sarcastically when she responded with a scowl.
“I’m in no mood for that shit, Em.”
“I can see that. Are you even going to tell me, or should I ask my crystal ball?” Emilia arched her left brow, sipping her cup as soon as she asked her question. Ámbar flipped her off.
“Mom took my car this morning, I had to take the stupid bus and was late for my first period, Gastón was a dick on Roman’s Law class and got me an extra essay for Friday. Happy?”
Her friend nodded, “I am, actually, because my day has been fantastic, thank you for asking. Yours, however, sounds shitty as fuck.”
Ámbar rolled her eyes, “don’t remind me, I still have IPL to go through; but whatever, I’ll survive. What about you? Didn’t you have a test today?”
“I did, and I totally murdered it. Wanna go with me and Benny to celebrate after class? He brought his car today, we can pick you up and drop you off, too.”
“Can’t. I have a thing to do for Fab & Chic after class.” Ámbar took a bite off her sandwich, ignoring when Emilia almost choked on her bagel.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ámbar shook her head, “you already accompanied them to that stupid bar on Saturday, what more do those pink princesses need from you?”
“They? Nothing. This is all me.”
Emilia scoffed, “stop talking on riddles, A, what are you planning?”
She took a sip of her coffee, “you know how we met that pop band at the bar and Delfi and Jazmín interviewed them, posted the video last night?” Emilia nodded, “well, I met the guitarist and got him to agree to give me an interview today. I’m meeting him after class at the same bar.”
“Why?”
Ámbar could tell her friend was confused. Truth be told, so was she. Journalism was nowhere near her ambitions -or dreams-, but something deep within her thought it was a good idea. She always followed her instinct, and most of the time (if not all, as they have never failed her) she was right, so this wouldn’t (couldn’t) be an exception. She was more than confident that this would benefit her somehow.
Who knew, maybe this would be what could finally put Fab and Chic (and consequently Delfi and Jazmín) up there in the spotlight of Journalism.
“Publicity, attention. This could benefit me in the future, y’know.”
“Your future isn’t in Journalism, though.” Emilia pointed out, arching her left eyebrow again.
Ámbar shrugged it off, “my name would still be out there.”
“If you say so. Well, are they giving you a ride?”
“Who?”
“Jazmín and Delfi, duh.”
She sipped on her coffee, “they don’t know anything about it. I told you, this is all me.”
Emilia’s face was disbelieving, “so you’re meeting this guy, alone?! What the fuck, Ámbar?”
“The guy is a softie, Emilia. Honestly, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly, he seemed very… I don’t know, weak?”
“As do most serial killers, Smith.” Emilia rolled her eyes, not yet convinced that it was a good idea. Ámbar waved her off with her hand.
“I’ll text you if it makes you feel better.”
Her best friend huffed, “fine. Now, why in the fuck are you wearing a beanie?”
If she hadn’t been pissed before, she certainly was now.
Not only was he 20 minutes late, but the stupid bar that had taken her one full hour to get to was closed. Had the idiot had really dare to trick her? Who the hell was he anyway? A stupid, barely talented guitarist and singer from an even stupider, not even that famous wannabe boyband. He couldn’t have stood her up. She was Ámbar Smith, not once in her 21 years had she been stood up in a date- appointment before. And she wouldn’t allow it; if she had to search for his stupid ass all over the city and drag him to make sure he kept his word, she would.
That insensitive, stupid, good for nothing of an idiot. The nerve of-
“I’m here! I’m here! I’m so so so so so so so sorry I’m late!” the idiot wheezed out as soon as he was near, almost knocking into her when he stopped running, “Nico forgot to do the laundry, so I had to do it myself since my clean t-shirts were -1 and then Pedro kind of made the microwave explode when he put a metal spoon with his popcorn, not sure how that even happened to be honest and then-”
“I don’t care! Do you know how frustrating it was to endure one freaking hour in public transportation to be here in time and then wait half an hour more to wait for his majesty to arrive?! And for what? The stupid bar is even closed!” She was fuming, gesturing wildly to the building.
“Well, what did you expect? It’s 16:30, bars aren’t usually opened until 18, the earliest.” His words only infuriated her more.
“Then why are we here?!”
“It’s middle ground for both, and there’s this really good Mexican coffee shop around the corner I really like.” He shrugged her anger off, and Ámbar swore she was surpassing a level of anger she had never felt before.
“I was wrong, you’re a dick dressed in virginity.”
He blinked a couple times, not quite getting it. “What?”
She huffed, “nothing, whatever. Where’s this coffee shop you’re talking about?”
Simón looked at her for moment, but ultimately shrugged again and motioned for her to follow him. The coffee shop was around the corner, not really hidden but not in the spotlight as it was the bar; but it was pretty. It wasn’t stereotypically decorated as some of the Mexican restaurants she’d been before, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was Mexican-influenced. It gave her the vibe she’s get when she visited Emilia’s or that one time her dad took her to Cozumel for winter vacations when she was 17. The big Mexican flag behind the bar was a clear telling, too.
“What do you want? It’s on me, don’t worry.” Simón asked once they found a booth in the farthest corner from the door. She wasn’t sure if it was conceited or smart of him to do so, but he was paying and, y’know, doing her this favor so she couldn’t really complain. Not that it’s ever stopped her before.
“What’s good? What are you having?”
“Everything, really. I’m ordering the largest hot chocolate and a couple of conchas, though.”
She scrunched up her nose, “a couple of what?”
He laughed, “it’s a type of sweet bread, and it’s delicious. I could give you a taste of mine, if you want.” He offered, but Ámbar shook her head in negative. It really didn’t sound appetizing to her.
“Is Mexican coffee any good? I’m more of a coffee-type of girl.” Again, he shrugged. Either it was some kind of habit, or he really wanted to push her buttons, because it was annoying her to no end at this point.
“Mom loves café de olla, that’s all I know about it, to be honest. Coffee and I don’t get along.”
Ámbar frowned, unsure if she should really order it. She was super picky about food in general, and his unconvinced ass wasn’t any reassuring. “I’ll have a medium of those, then.”
He nodded, “do you want anything to eat? You can ask for anything, remember I’m paying.” Simón joked, shaking the wallet he held in his hand slightly. Ámbar scanned the menu written on one of the near walls, searching for something that could be safe to try.
“Tres leches cake, please.”
Simón saluted her, and went to the bar to order. It appeared he was somewhat of a regular, or that the boy behind the counter was a fan; because he greeted him all excited and not all dead like sometimes baristas did. She sighed, and decided to text Emilia and her mom that she was with him already, adding to her mom that she would probably not be hungry for dinner, and to cook just for herself. If she ended up hungry afterwards she’d make herself a soup or something. Instant ramen could do the trick.
Before she knew it, he was back with their drinks, the barista behind him helping with their desserts, saving him the double trip. Simón thanked him once everything was set on the table, tipping him extra five dollars before he took a seat in front of her.
He smiled at her once the boy was gone, “so, how was your day?”
“Shitty. How was yours?”
“Ouch, I’m really sorry I was late, seriously. It wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He apologized profusely, she just sipped her coffee. And damn it, it was delicious. “My day was mostly unproductive, except maybe for the laundry part. But I slept like a baby until noon and then had to save the apartment from Pedro’s unusual cooking disasters, so could’ve been better.”
She sighed, “it’s okay, it’s just that I hate taking the bus and then this asshole put me in trouble with a teacher and now I have double the work in that class due on Friday.”
“Double the ouch. Don’t you have a car, or couldn’t you take a cab?”
Ámbar arched her eyebrows, “my uni is forty minutes away, a cab would have charged me a fortune. I do have a car, but my mom took it this morning, so I had to take the bus.”
“I’m sorry, again,” he cringed, “I can give you a ride home after we’re finished here, I can’t send you home alone.”
She thought about it for a minute, before nodding. A ride sounded much better than losing over $20 for a cab or the bus. Plus, free things were always nice.
“We should start, then. I have a paper to start for past-tomorrow and I’m sure whoever cares about you won’t want you coming super late.”
“Alright, but I do have a few rules.” He parted one of his conchas, before dunking it in his hot chocolate and biting it, “nothing about relationships and all the questions are a game.”
“Hiding a girl, are you?” she inquired, sipping once more on her coffee. Simón winked at her.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “What’s the game about, though?”
He took another bite of his bread before answering, “you have to guess the answer to each question, and I’ll confirm or deny. If you guess right, you can ask another question and this time I’ll have to answer.”
“Are you kidding me? What kind of game is this?” she huffed, angrily taking a bite of her cake. She was almost too mad to not notice its deliciousness. Almost.
“One you have to play with me since I’m helping you and feeding you, for free.” Simón arched his eyebrow, she merely shrugged. It’s not like she was forcing him to pay, he was the one to offer it, anyway; “and plus, it’s gonna be more fun for both. I know it.”
“Fine, let’s do it.” Ámbar sighed. His smirk kind of gave her the creeps, “what?”
“Don’t you want to know what happens if you’re wrong?”
She looked at him dubiously, “you’re not going to ask me to do anything illegal, are you?”
Simón laughed, “no. You just have to answer the question you ask, and I get to ask one that you have to answer.”
“But you won’t answer it correctly?”
“I guess we’ll have to see.” He shrugged, “you can start now.”
Ámbar sighed, and took out her phone to start a voice recording, because she was too lazy to film it or write it all down in paper. She was going to keep it easy on him, to give herself time to think of some-what-safe questions.
She had to give it to him; he wasn’t stupid at all. This little game of him would make it practically impossible for her to guess correctly on deep questions, ultimately turning them on her. The guy wasn’t dumb at all.
“I don’t like you anymore, just so you know.”
“Ah, so you liked me before?” She almost rolls her eyes.
“Your favorite color is blue?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“Would you say fame is what you expected?”
“You won’t hold back, will you?” she guessed it was rhetorical, so she didn’t say anything. “It wasn’t. There’s many shades to fame that I never thought existed, that’s all I’m telling you for now.”
Her curiosity was dying to ask what he meant by that, but chose not to dive into it yet. She didn’t think he’d answer, anyway.
“You’re a dog person?”
“Another yes. You know me so well!” he joked, finishing the last piece of his first concha; sipping his hot chocolate afterwards.
“What can I say? I’m a great guesser.” Ámbar was very thankful she’d googled him before coming, “does it bother you when people put you in a category just because of how you’re positioned in the industry?”
“I loathed it. There’s more of me than what I choose the media to see, more than what I let other people around me see.” Simón frowned, his hold on the bread getting too tie and crumbles of the shell (she guessed that’s why they were called conchas) falling down on his cup, “but I’ve thicken my skin, and now I mostly shrug it off.”
“Uh, your best friends are your band?”
He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief; “not quite.”
“What? But goo-” she almost slips it out, “then who?”
“Nope, you don’t get to question me, it’s my turn now.” He teased, shaking his head, “have you always wanted to study journalism?”
She cocked her brow, “I’m not studying journalism.” He seemed to be thrown off by this, and his face was so funny she almost laughs in it. “I’m a law student. A junior, actually.”
“Then why- what?” Ámbar shook her head.
“Nah-uh. My turn. You own a dog?”
“Nope, mom does.” He looked smug, now. “Why did you want to interview me if this has nothing to do with your career?”
Ámbar sighed, annoyed with herself for trusting a stupid google interview. Either they were lying, or Simón was twisting the truth. Whatever it was, she wasn’t happy at all.
“The Fab & Chic was a project I had with Jazmín and Delfi last year, it was an optative class and we had to create a blog to practice our writing, photography, programming and editing skills. I didn’t help that much back then, and they were cool with it, since it wasn’t a main priority for me or my career. I guess this interview is a way for me to pay them back. And, well, it might help me get some recognition later, if it does what I’m expecting it to be.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t you know the rules to your own game?” she snapped at him, making him frown and match her own.
“The game is off, now we ask whatever we want as long as it the other is willing to answer. Now, what are you expecting to happen?”
“It’s my turn.”
Simón shrugged, “so?”
“You’re infuriating.”
“On the contrary, I’m told I’m a very lovable person.”
“By who? Your mother?”
“And my grandmother. And my friends. And my fans, which are at least a million.”
“Well they’re lying to you.”
Simón leaned over the table, and got close enough so that she could see a small acne scar above his eyebrow. Such closeness made her a little uncomfortable, but couldn’t really move. Instead, her eyes were hooked to his.
with my head in the clouds, i start to run and then i fall
I’m not sure what this is??? but i guess i can describe them as smol drabbles of simbar moments we’ve had so far.
Possibly a part 1, not sure yet about that, lmao.
No, it’s not proofread.
She doesn’t know why she does it at first; why her instincts tell her to convince him she’s changed.
Part of her thinks it’s because he’s liked by everyone, that because if Simón believes it then Luna and everyone else will, too. Another part, a smaller one, isn’t as convinced. After all, he’s a great partner, and has always been nice to her. He’s never done something to justify her faulting him.
But, she can’t afford to be merciful, or emotional, or weak. From now on he’s just another pawn, another piece in the game she’s been carefully planning. She can’t afford to lose anything else, her pride is wounded enough.
The smaller part is ignored.
When she succeeds, and the situation is done, he’s just going to be residual effect; nothing of importance.
She should’ve known better, though. Because, just like the song says, residual effects always find a detour from the way you expect them to take.
It’s almost comical how easily he trusts her.
She hadn’t been sure how to approach him, but now she has Jazmín’s stupid crush to thank. It seems, it’s made the girl smarter and helpful for once.
Their time together is filled with music, and the occasional small talk at first. He doesn’t fully trust her, but he’s keeping an open mind and more importantly, he’s willing to give her the sense of doubt. He hesitates at first, not sure what to make out of her, but soon enough he’s buying her act. A smile, a few compliments and false self-pitying words and Ámbar knows she’s successfully sold her performance.
She’s trying to keep it light, following almost everything he’s telling her to change about her song. It’s easy, since he’s focusing solely on the task in the beginning; then, of course, Simón being Simón, throws the ‘f’ word at her.
He wants her to feel the song.
She tries not to let it show that she’s offended, especially after he asked her not to be offended, but she is. Never one to turn down a challenge, she tries it.
And fails.
So, she focuses on him, promising she’s going to keep trying later, asking him to sing the song he’s chosen for himself. He denies her, and she can’t help to question him. Suddenly, she realizes she’s willingly asked about him and his problems, shocked to find that she’s interested in the answer. She even gives him advice.
It’s almost comical how easily she broke out of her act, and didn’t even realize.
Jazmín is unbearable with her jealousy.
She reassures her he’s just a part of her plan, and lies when she tells her they talk about the redhead when they’re alone.
Both are lies.
He’s back at it again with the feelings. She tries, and succeeds, but it’s not enough yet. She’s going to keep trying. Ámbar Smith doesn’t settle for less.
He goes on about the meaning, about how the other person makes you feel like you’re touching the sky and being two fireflies. (He calls her pretty). She wants to scream at him that she knows, that she’s the one that wrote it, that’s not her fault she just can’t connect with it as much because it just hasn’t happened yet.
She doesn’t.
Instead he’s not-so-subtly asking her to leave him alone so he can rehearse his song. Ámbar’s been curious to find out what he’s singing, so she insists on staying and offer her two cents. It’s obvious to her the song has a deep meaning to him, since each word is coated with emotion. He’s also nervous, so she claps and cheers him a little more than necessary, but still offers her honest opinion. After that, she reminds herself what his purpose to her is, so she suggests him to ask Luna for help; she knows by now that it would create a conflict if she was helping Matteo, too. When it’s clear her comment worked, she offers to go outside and take some time off.
He vacillates but ends up agreeing.
Then they’re outside, eating their melting ice cream, he tells her just how much Reik’s song means to him. Apparently, it’s the first he learned to play on his guitar, and one of his grandmother’s favorites, who he loves dearly and has a special place in his heart because of this.
She feels a lot better when she knows it’s not completely about Lunita.
Ámbar doesn’t let herself dig into that.
She steals Simón’s guitar thingy, and her plan goes perfectly when Luna misses half of Balsano’s performance.
But, of course, she gets back just in time to see the end, and Matteo doesn’t waste time to show just how cheesy he can be. It fails, so she might as well go and try to gain brownie points with Simón when she ‘finds’ the missing piece.
He’s so thankful he kisses her hand.
She grins.
Ámbar has to remind him to go on stage or else he’d be automatically disqualified; and even if she doesn’t plan on him to win, he deserves to at least have a fair chance. She owes him that.
She calls for Jazmín, and her idiot of a friend has the audacity to defy her.
The make-up is horrible, unsalvageable. And then he’s there, offering his support and reassuring her that if anyone would be able to pull it off, it’d be her. His words are magic because they work. She doesn’t feel pretty, but she feels confident, and she’s so moved, she’s suddenly hugging him as tightly as she can.
He hugs her back, and she allows herself a couple seconds there. His arms feel very good, and his aroma is really, really nice. The feeling of someone else’s eyes makes her own open, Jazmín’s thrown aback face make her feel smug because her little tantrum backfired right on her ass. So, she hugs him a little tighter, smirk visible to her so-called-friend just for two seconds, before she pretends to notice her.
She tries to play the hurt card, but Simón won’t allow it. He dares to defend Jazmín. She’s pissed at this, but conceals it as nicely as she can and asks him to leave them alone so they can talk. Ámbar knows just what words to say to leave her feeling worse, and then sends her away too.
She needs a few moments more to talk herself into performing.
Eyes on her had never bothered her before, but now all she can think about it’s how much they’re judging her and the meme’s the internet will offer later. She scans the crowd, and her gaze sets on him.
He’s smiling, nodding for her to see he’s there, encouraging.
So, she sings.
Ámbar belts out every word, her eyes searching. every other lyric, to his direction just so she can confirm his attention is still on her. Between the cheers the crowd’s giving and Jazmín’s pout because her little charade didn’t work, she feels invincible.
All attention is on her, and she loves it. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels on top, in control. She feels at home.
The song ends and she feels both smug, and proud of herself. Her eyes flicker to his without her consent, and find his proud grin and approving face – a look she hadn’t seen in a while directed at her. It feels super nice.
She likes it.
Ámbar doesn’t know it yet, but if the song wasn’t about him before, it sure is now.
