Chapter Text
The sea breeze was hitting Simón’s face as he walked down the beach. The sun had set recently, turning the clear, turquoise color of the water in Cancún into a dark blue. It was probably time he returned home, he thought. But the salty scent, the softness of the sand under his feet; all of it was like a part of him and it made him feel whole.
He needed that feeling.
He had lost count of the number of times he had volunteered to take the dog out for a walk these past days just so he could breathe in the sea. It was nice, but it always ended the same way.
With a sigh, Simón rubbed the sand off his feet and put on the shoes he had been carrying in his hands. Staying here until late wasn’t going to help. If it could, it would’ve done so by now.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts and gave one last long look at the waves, willing their sound to drown his thoughts. He was turning around to leave when he caught sight of something. No, not something— Someone.
The skip of his heart wasn’t something he could help or control. It had followed him around all summer, every time she was even mentioned, every time some seller by the coast offered handcrafted jewelry made of the semi-precious stone.
Ámbar.
Seeing her was a rare occurrence these days, and so much worse than just having to deal with the memories in his mind. She was walking in his direction, her gaze down, focused on how the breaking waves skirted close to her sandals and then retreated, never touching. Much of her skin was bare, covered only by a bikini as black as the night sky and short denim shorts. Her blond hair was loose and fluttering wildly from the wind. Her hand reached up to move it out of her face, and Simón remembered when it was him who did that.
That was then. Now was now.
When she saw him, she stopped in her tracks, clearly as taken aback as him. They looked at each other for a moment, then she turned to face the sea, her back straight, chin high. Her whole posture sent the message to just ignore her and keep going on his way.
Simón wanted to do just that ever since the moment he caught a glimpse of her. After all, they had managed to avoid each other for weeks now— They could keep doing it. But something pushed him to come closer instead. Maybe the exact same part of him that wanted to flee.
When he stood next to her, she made no sign of sensing his presence. He watched her profile, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the horizon.
“You shouldn’t be here alone this late.”
His words were only met with stoic silence.
His eyes stared at her on their own accord. There was a lot of exposed skin he wasn’t used to seeing; he tried to ignore that. What he could not ignore, however, were the goosebumps on her arms—And everywhere he looked, now that he was paying attention. Being in the tropic, Cancún was always warm, but in winter, at night, and right next to the sea breeze, the temperature was as low as it could be.
“You look cold,” he told her, but got no response. “Do you want my hoodie?” He offered, bringing his hands to its open front to take it off.
“No,” Ámbar spat.
It was the first word she had said to him in weeks.
Simón hesitated, seeing small shivers in her body. “But the wind is blowing strong and you’re—”
“What the fuck do you care?”
Her snap made him startle. His chest hurt— A quick pain that just as quickly turned bitter. He shouldn’t be surprised. This wasn’t the Ámbar he’d spent afternoons skating and talking with. This wasn’t the sweet person he thought he knew. And even if she was, even if any of it was real, it was all too wrapped up in lies and revenges and heartbreak for it to mean anything positive in his life.
God, what am I doing?
Simón clenched his jaw, smoothing his expression; he refused to keep looking like a fool. “You know what? You’re right. Forget it.”
He turned around, stomping through the sand in the direction of his house. He looked back after a moment, expecting to see her walking away as well, but she was still there, staring at the waves.
Who the hell cares. I try to be nice and she barks at me. Serves her right.
Simón kept walking. He could see some people far ahead walking along the beach too, apparently a family. He heard some loud voices and laughs to his right, coming from one of the shops on the sidewalk. It sounded like a group of guys, either drunk or getting there. He couldn’t tell from this distance if they were locals or tourists.
He looked back again. Ámbar was still where he left her, except sitting on the sand now.
Her house is not that far, she can walk. Not a big deal.
He walked a little more. Stopped. Turned.
Ámbar was curled up in the sand, her legs up to her chin as she hugged them. Even from this far he could tell she was shaking.
Oh god freaking damn it.
One second Ámbar was looking at the waves touching the shore, and the next, she felt a material crash and drape over her right side, momentarily blinding her as some of it covered her face.
“You can throw it in the trash later if you hate it so much, but don’t freeze to death.”
By the time she pulled the fabric out of her eyes, confirming it was indeed Simón’s pale yellow hoodie, he had already turned and was walking away to where he came from.
A fire, dark and feral, burned in Ámbar's chest. That was what he always did— Turn his back on her.
She crumpled the hoodie into a ball and threw it at him. It hit his back before falling onto the sand.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
Simón turned around like a storm.
“Why are you being so damn difficult?” He exclaimed, picking up the spurned hoodie from the sand. “I’m trying to be nice here, even though I have no reason to be, and you still reject my help!”
Ámbar stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, staring him down. A small, mirthless smile graced her lips. “Sorry, that’s just how we people full of hate are. Nothing personal.”
Simón felt a jab in his heart hearing his words thrown back at him. A series of feelings accompanied it— guilt, regret, sadness— but he flattened them all down. He was not the one who did things wrong. He was not the one who lied. He was not the one constantly looking for ways to hurt someone— Like she was doing right now, telling him this just to make him feel guilty, to make him feel even more miserable than he already was.
He rubbed a hand down his face.
“Just put it on, okay?” He extended the hoodie.
“No. Leave me alone.”
Simón took a deep breath.
“Ámbar, you’re freezing, and you’re barely wearing anything more than a swimsuit, at night, alone, in a foreign country,” he stated pointedly, appealing to her good judgment. “The walk to your house is still many minutes long, and it doesn't look like you have any money on you or your phone to call a car— Which, by the way, is very irresponsible of you. Now, do you want to die of hypothermia just to prove a point, or are you going to take my hoodie and live to hate me another day?”
Ámbar looked at the hoodie for a moment. Then she turned her head toward the waves, her murmur barely audible over their sound.
“What if I rather freeze?”
Simón did a double take. She can’t be serious.
“I’ll put it on by force if I have to— Why are you being like this?!” He demanded, no longer able to contain his frustration.
“Why are you being like this?!” Ámbar volleyed back, bringing her fuming gaze back to him. “You don’t care about me, you made it very clear that you hate me, so why are you insisting so much?”
“Maybe because I have a heart and I can’t just see someone like this and do nothing?”
“I don’t want your pity,” she seethed.
Ámbar passed by him and began to walk towards the sidewalk. She had seen enough pity in the eyes of everyone in the last few days—
‘We’re sorry that Sharon lied to you like that.’
‘Luna might be Sol, but you’re still my granddaughter.’
—She didn’t need any more of that; especially from him.
Deep down, she knew she was being unreasonable. That the mature thing to do would be to just accept the damn hoodie and carry on with her life. But she had this instinct— this need— to preserve the last shred of dignity she still had left. After the way the two of them had left things, Ámbar wanted him gone from her life. She wanted him as far from her as possible.
It wasn’t that cold. She’d probably warm up if she jogged a little or something. She just had to get away from the sea breeze. From him. Very far from him until it didn’t hurt anymore.
But no, of course he wouldn’t give her that. She could hear his footsteps on the sand as he followed her, probably eager to deepen some wound, just as he had to go gloat in front of her after Luna won the Glass Skate.
And then people said she was the cruel one. That she was insensitive.
Fuck them and fuck him.
Simón tried to call out to Ámbar, but she kept walking away from him, acting as if she didn't hear him.
Just let her go, a part of him said. It's not your problem. You tried. If anything happens, it'll be her fault.
But he couldn't. He couldn't let anything happen to her— He felt close to panic just thinking about it.
“Ámbar, please! I—” Simón stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself inside. “It’s not pity, I’m just… an idiot.”
Some steps ahead, Ámbar stopped in her tracks, gathering she hadn’t heard that right. She turned slowly and looked at him with a frown.
“What?”
Simón seemed reluctant to meet her gaze, reluctant to even speak further, but he let out a sigh and did.
“I’m stupid. I really, really am because, you lied to me, you broke my heart— By all means, I should hate you, but… I still care about you.”
Ámbar was sure this time around that she had heard him wrong. He couldn’t really mean that. But the way he averted his gaze, as if embarrassed, said otherwise.
She was stunned.
“So, as you can see, I’m the biggest idiot on this planet,” he said dejectedly. “Now, can you please just put the hoodie on?”
Simón extended his hand with his eyes lowered. He wanted to save himself the humiliation of seeing the smugness on her face after what he had just confessed. He hated himself for it. He hated to give her that satisfaction, but he couldn’t help the way he felt, and he had given up trying. Simón had spent all these days in Cancún trying not to think about her and it hadn’t worked. So, he had just accepted the fact that he was pathetic and carried on with his life.
Honestly, the whole current situation was pathetic. Ámbar was the one with the problem and yet, somehow, he was the one begging her to let him help.
He could almost hate her for it. Except, as he had already established, he wasn’t capable of it.
If she rejected his help this time too though, that was it, he wasn’t going to insist anymore. He had at least some pride and self-love left. He could maybe call Miguel or something to send a car here so he could make sure Ámbar would be okay without getting involved any further. In fact, that was probably what he should’ve done from the beginning instead of walking back here and following her around. Why was he even—
She took it. Ámbar took the hoodie.
Simón looked up.
Ámbar slid her arms inside the hoodie, feeling his eyes on her. She pulled the zipper up to her chin and dug her frozen hands into the pockets.
The first thing she noticed was the warmth. Her body sighed as the fabric enveloped her, automatically feeling better. The second thing she noticed was that it smelled like Simón. It was quite obvious it would, he had been wearing it, but somehow, having his scent envelop her after so long of not smelling it at all was as big a shock to her system as the warmth against her cold body.
“Thank you,” she said, sinking as much as possible under the soft cotton. It was the least she could say, and the only thing she felt comfortable saying.
Simón observed her. The hoodie looked big on Ámbar, the sleeves drowning her hands and the length falling down to her thighs. It was just long enough to cover the shorts she was wearing, making it look as if she had nothing underneath.
His treacherous heart jumped against his ribcage. He shouldn’t be looking at her that way. Seeing her in his clothes shouldn’t please him so much.
Simón gulped and nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.”
Ámbar crossed her arms to hug herself against the cold, and the movement drew his attention to her chest. He turned away quickly.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your house,” he said, and if his voice sounded a tiny bit different, hoarser than a moment ago, he counted on the sea sounds to cover it.
Simón was aware that he had changed rather drastically his original plan of just handing her the hoodie and then lettling her walk back by herself. He was aware that he was setting himself up for a big chunk of awkwardness because of it, but after taking one good look of Ámbar, there was no way he could leave her alone. The hoodie was a solution for one problem but there was another. If his mind had wandered seeing her like this, he knew others' would too, and there was no way in hell he was going to let Ámbar walk alone at night for some depraved man to harass her or worse— Simón would rather die.
(He might die, if he later found out that something like that happened and he let it.)
“I don’t wanna go there.”
Ámbar's voice snapped him out of his grim thoughts. Halting in his step, Simón spun around to find that, true to her word, Ámbar hadn’t moved from her previous spot on the beach.
He frowned at her reluctance. “Why not?”
She averted her gaze. “I just don’t.”
That wasn’t an answer, but Simón guessed he had no right to push, so he just went along with it.
“Do you have anywhere else to stay?”
Ámbar considered it. “Emilia could take me in.”
Simón’s face contorted in disbelief. “Emilia? Are you really that close to that girl now?”
“No, but I prefer her.”
Why?
Simón wanted to ask but he suspected Ámbar wouldn't answer. He didn’t like the idea of Ámbar hanging out with that girl. Didn’t like it at all.
But that doesn’t concern you. Not anymore.
“Well, where does she live?” He asked instead, swallowing his unease.
Ámbar seemed to think about it. “I’m not sure,” she admitted reluctantly. “I think I’d recognize the general area if I saw it, but I have no idea where that is.”
“Well, do you know her number? We can call her from my phone,” he offered.
“I don’t know it by memory, I need my phone.”
“Okay, and where’s your phone?”
“…At the house.”
Simón let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s go to your house then.”
He started walking again, just as he had one minute ago. Thankfully, Ámbar didn’t protest this time and just followed along, walking slightly behind him.
“Why did you leave all your stuff there anyway?” Simón asked after a moment. It wasn't only dangerous but also didn't sound like her at all.
“I kinda left in a hurry and forgot to grab my things," Ámbar replied. "I wasn’t supposed to walk that far either, I just lost track of time.”
Their footsteps on the sand filled the silence that followed, along with some faraway voices of people in the city.
“Why didn’t you go back to get your things?” Simón asked next. “Why do you still don’t want to go back? It’s your house.”
“Summer house.”
“Same thing.”
Ámbar didn't say anything. She kept staring ahead, avoiding Simón's gaze, and for a long minute, they just walked like that, in silence. She clearly didn't want to answer his questions. She refused to open up to him at all.
Simón couldn't blame her; he felt the same way. It was totally understandable after everything that had happened between them. And he should've been okay with that. He should've been able to just leave it alone.
But...
Simón stopped in front of Ámbar and turned to face her, forcing her to a halt.
"Okay." He offered her his hand. "Truce."
Ámbar looked at him confusedly.
"What?"
"I said 'Truce'. I forget for the rest of our walk how you lied to me, and you forget for the rest of our walk how mad you are at me. Deal?"
Ámbar stared at him and his outstretched hand long and hard. The expression on her face showed what both of them knew— That they couldn't forget, not really. What had transpired between them had left a mark on both of them that wasn't easy to ignore. She looked at him with apprehension, seemingly trying to figure out his angle, what his objective was, what he wanted to gain from a deal like this.
Simón wished there were anything to be gained. He wished that this idea was in any way or form good for him, that he had been strong enough to convince himself to stay away.
But he was worried. Unrest in his chest, knot in his gut worried. Against all his better judgment and the bitter part of him that claimed whatever was going on with her served her right— His need to do something about it was stronger.
He had already let that petty part of him win once, when he went to see her in the dressing room after the Roda Fest. He thought he'd feel better after that. He didn't. He thought if he did the complete opposite of comforting her, his first instinct upon seeing her downcast, before he remembered why she deserved to feel that way, he'd finally be able to drown that urge once and for all. Yank it out of his chest like weeds.
He couldn't.
Ámbar, faced with this nonsensical offer, wanted to laugh scornfully at Simón's face. You want me to forget how you told me to go fuck myself? She wanted to bark. You want me to forget how I humiliated myself for you, begging for you to stay, and you didn't care at all?
But he looked honest. He really seemed willing to push everything aside for a moment and Ámbar didn't understand why. If I hurt him so much, why is he doing this?
The truth of the matter was, even after everything, she never did understand him. She thought she did, but that illusion broke as easily and as fast as that dressing room's mirror, back at the Roda Fest.
With this truce he was basically asking her to trust him again, even if only for a short time. Could she do that? She didn't really want to. Scratch that— She definitely didn't want to. Last time had ended in disaster.
But if it meant that, for just some minutes, for just one moment, he would trust her again...
You're not the only one who's an idiot, Simón.
Slowly, Ámbar raised her hand to his.
"Well, since I'll have to put up with you anyway..." She said with detachment. She gave his hand the shortest of shakes, not wanting the touch to linger for too long. It would just be another thing she'd miss later if she let herself have it again.
With the deal made, the two of them resumed their walk. Simón spoke again in a gentle tone.
"Okay. Now, tell me, what's wrong with that house?" He asked her. His eyes were inviting as he looked at Ámbar. It was almost how he used to look at her before, when they were friends and he consoled her.
Were we ever just friends though?
Ámbar pushed the memories away. Nothing was as before anymore. It would never be like that again. All she could do was answer honestly. At least he deserved that much.
"There's nothing wrong with the house itself, it's the people in it."
Simón stopped short.
"If you're just going to complain about Luna, let me tell you right now that I won't—"
Ámbar rolled her eyes. "It's not just that!"
Great, they had lasted five seconds without fighting. Why did she think it would be any different?
"Not just that?" Simón volleyed back with indignation. "What has Luna even done to you?"
Ámbar raised her brows at him. "Do you want me to make a list?"
Simón tossed his hands up and started to walk again. "Enlighten me."
Ámbar put a finger up as she fell into step beside him. "First, she invaded my house."
"That was not her decision, she had to move with her parents," he countered quickly.
She put up a second finger. "Then, she invaded my school."
"Again, not her decision."
"Then, she stole my boyfriend."
"That—" Simón closed his mouth before starting again. "Matteo was the one who went after her."
Ámbar glared at him. "I'm quite aware of that fact, thank you for reminding me."
Simón winced. He could imagine it hadn't been nice to watch her boyfriend going after another girl. Matteo wasn't even subtle in his interest in Luna.
"It doesn't erase the fact that if she hadn't arrived, Matteo wouldn't have done that," Ámbar continued.
"Well, if anything, it shows the kind of person Matteo is, not Luna," Simón argued. "She only started dating him when you two had broken up for good."
"Yeah, yeah, she's a saint." Ámbar rolled her eyes and counted more. "She also invaded my rink, stole my spot on the team, brainwashed everyone so they would love her, invaded my stage—"
"Luna has loved rollerskating for as long as I've known her," Simón said. "Of course she was going to go to the Jam & Roller— that place was like paradise for her. And she needed a place like that if she was going to be in a completely different country with completely different people. It's not easy to just jump on a plane and start your life anew in a new place you've never known before, surrounded by strangers. So excuse her if she started making friends and participating in stuff. It was her way to fit in and get along with everyone. Otherwise, she would've been alone."
The bite in his voice gave Ámbar pause. Somehow, throughout his speech, she got the impression that Simón had stopped talking about just Luna. The tightness in his jaw, his shoulders, the way his eyes had focused on the road ahead instead of meeting her gaze... Yeah, this wasn't just about Luna.
Suddenly, it occurred to Ámbar that Simón had been pretty much in the same situation as Luna those few years ago. He had arrived in a new country and stayed at her house (albeit secretly), had started frequenting the Jam & Roller and joined her skating team... The only difference was that he hadn't enrolled in her school.
But while Luna had her parents, Simón didn't have anyone when he first came to Buenos Aires. Except Luna. Luna who chose Matteo.
Why hadn't she realized any of this before?
Because he never showed he was anything but alright.
Sure, everyone could see the kicked puppy eyes he threw Luna's way, but besides that heartbreak, Simón was always all smiles and excited energy.
Just how lonely had he been?
Simón turned his gaze back to Ámbar. Many seconds had passed and she still hadn't screamed at him to stop defending Luna or something of the sort as he had expected her to do. In fact, she wasn't saying anything. Their eyes met for an instant but she looked away quickly, setting her gaze on her feet as she remained quiet.
"What, that's it? That was your list?" He couldn't help but taunt her. Maybe it was bitter of him, but he was just so tired of Ámbar's bad blood with Luna, especially because Luna had never done anything to deserve it. Excluding the Matteo thing, all of Ámbar's reasons to hate her were so damn superficial Simón felt like shaking her. It was unfair and ridiculous.
“Or what are you gonna tell me now? That Luna made Tamara leave?” He said with irony when the silence continued. “That she brought Juliana to the Roller? She made winter colder? Made split ends appear in your hair?”
“She made my godmother leave.”
Simón’s feet came slowly to a stop. All humor and annoyance drained from him as he turned to watch her.
“Ámbar…”
“I know,” she said, looking away. “You don’t have to tell me.”
She knew what her godmother had done was wrong and probably illegal. She didn’t need to be reminded of that whole mess. She spent every day trying to forget how Sharon had left the country with barely a goodbye to her.
“Do you know where she is?” Simón asked after a pause, his tone gentle. It was mostly out of curiosity really, and because he could sense this was an important topic for Ámbar, a painful one.
“No,” Ámbar replied. “She hasn’t contacted me since. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said curtly, her eyes fiery as they met his. “You would probably just run to tell the Valentes and they would call the cops on her to get her behind bars.”
Simón swallowed the pang he felt in his chest seeing the distrust in her eyes. The spark of anger and the cloud of sorrow that followed it.
So this is what we’ve come to.
“Ámbar, I don’t think they would do that,” he replied, focusing on them instead of him, even when what he really wanted to say was that he wouldn’t do that to her. She probably wouldn't believe him.
“No?” Ámbar questioned, raising her brows with apparent incredulity. “And what do you suppose they’d do? Sit down to have a nice quiet dinner with her and reminisce about old times?”
“Of course not,” Simón replied, glaring slightly at her tone of irony. “What she did was wrong; she tried to keep Luna from finding out who she is, from reuniting with her grandfather and getting what’s rightfully hers. But she’s still family,” he said. “I don’t think Mr. Alfredo wishes her harm. I think he even misses her.”
Ámbar snorted and averted her gaze. “No one in that house misses her.”
Maybe Simón had gotten to know Ámbar more than he thought he had. Maybe she was just easy to read if you really tried at it. Because right then, just looking at her posture, at her crossed arms and the expression on her face, it was easy for him to know what she wasn't saying.
“You miss her. Don’t you?”
Ámbar flinched and turned further away from him, facing the waves instead.
“I’m mad at her,” she declared, her voice sharp and filled with resentment. “She lied to me. She told me I was Sol Benson, made me believe that, and then when everything came crashing down, she just ran away. She abandoned me.”
And yet you still miss her.
Simón could relate to that. Missing something, someone, even though you know it’s not good for you.
“… Well, what else could she do?” He said. “Aside from facing the consequences of her actions, of course. It’s not like she could’ve taken you with her if she was going to be on the run.”
“I would’ve gone with her,” Ámbar said immediately.
That was what she had wanted. She wanted to be away from here, from Buenos Aires, from everything. She wanted to leave her past behind and start anew with her godmother some place else where there would be no Lunas, no Valentes, no heartbreaks. She had spent all these days in Cancún thinking that it would’ve been better if Sharon had just taken her with her.
Simón didn’t seem to agree though.
“Ámbar, that’s crazy!” He said, positively looking at her as if she had lost her mind. “You don’t know what she would’ve done to you. You said it yourself, she lied to you about who you are! And you don’t know where she would’ve taken you. Your whole life is here. Your family’s here, your friends are here—”
"Family?" She turned to him. "Friends? I have no one, Simón!" The cracks inside of her grew bigger as that sad truth came out, the one that'd been hunting her for weeks. “My godmother abandoned me. My so-called grandfather doesn’t even know I exist anymore; ever since he found out that Luna is the real Sol Benson, he totally forgot about me. The Valentes aren’t my family, Luna definitely isn’t my family nor do I want her to be, and everyone who used to be my friend turned their backs on me.”
“Well, that one was your fault, if you hadn’t burned down the rink—”
“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!!”
Simón flinched back, staring at her wide-eyed.
But Ámbar didn’t care if she looked crazy, she didn’t care if she scared him, she didn’t care what he thought— She was done with everything.
“How many times do I have to say that until SOMEONE believes me?! No— You know what? Forget it. Whatever!” She threw her arms to the sky. “You wanna believe I’m an arsonist? Perfect, go ahead. You wanna believe I purposely burned down the only place in which I’ve ever felt like I’m worth something? Be my fucking guest. A ton of other shit that I did do and I admit, but of course everyone would hate me for the one thing I didn’t mean to do! It’s just my fucking luck.”
“Ámba—”
“And I guess it’s also my fault that I’m not Sol Benson," she continued. "I should’ve just been born out of Bernie and Lily, how silly of me to have been born out of some stupid teenage girl who never heard of what a freaking condom is and gave me up to Sharon because she didn’t have a penny to raise me!” She advanced towards him, making Simón take a step back. “You don’t wanna believe the fire was an accident? I WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT! MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT! IF THE WORLD GOT ITS WAY, I WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE BEEN BORN. HOW HAPPY EVERYONE WOULD’VE BEEN THEN, RIGHT?!”
She shoved against his shoulder and sprinted away, leaving Simón stunned. His mind was reeling, his heart pounding. He couldn’t process everything she'd just said.
But his body reacted. He ran after Ámbar without thinking, because he didn’t need to think it through— He just had to do one thing.
Catch her.
“Ámbar!”
He caught her arm, forcing her to a stop.
“Let me go,” she said, trying to pull her arm free but he held on tightly to her wrist. Simón pulled her toward him and she started fighting, trying to break free with all her might. “I said let me go, Simón!”
He brought his other arm around her and pressed her firmly against his chest. “I’m not going to let you go."
Ámbar continued to struggle, trying to break away to no avail.
“Let me go!” She yelled in distress, smacking and pushing him with her free hand. “I hate you! I hate everyone! I hate-e—”
Her voice broke, and with it, so did her will to fight.
Ámbar burrowed her face on Simón's chest and her fingers clutched the material of his tank top. A loud wail tore out her throat, and she started to cry.
Simón let go of her wrist and wrapped both arms around her, holding her as her body shook with sobs and his skin got damp from her tears. Ámbar’s arms slid around his sides and Simón felt her cling to him as strongly as she had tried to pull away before.
It was a cry filled with anguish; loud and desperate. Tears gathered in Simón’s own eyes. Every little sound that came out of Ámbar’s throat seemed to tear him apart.
“Shhh… Easy, bonita, easy,” he murmured, caressing her back softly as his other hand cradled her head. “I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like that again, okay? I don’t want you to think it either. No one would be happier without you, Ámbar. Mr. Alfredo loves you like a grandchild, I know he does. He mentions you a lot. You’re not there to hear it, but I have. He worries about you being out of the house so much.”
A hard sob made Simón hold her tighter, wishing he could extinguish her pain with his arms.
“Delfi and Jazmín are angry right now but I’m sure they don’t hate you. You’ve been friends for years, that doesn’t go away one day to another. The rest of the guys are mad too but I’m sure they would forgive you if you apologized. Mónica and Miguel could be your family if you let them. Hell— even Luna wouldn’t be happier without you, Ámbar. Who’d compete with her, huh? Who is a better skater than you, a better singer than you, to push her to be better? I know she annoys you, but I think she pushes you to be better too, doesn’t she?”
Gradually, Ámbar’s crying was easing down. Simón gently caressed her hair, beckoning the calm to come back. “I’m sure your mom loves you as well.” He felt her tense up, but he kept going, knowing she needed to hear this. “That’s why she gave you to Sharon. She wanted you to have a better life; a good one. I’m sure she doesn’t regret having you. I mean, a girl as talented as you? Who could regret that?”
Ámbar let out a couple more sobs and then they receded, leaving just ragged breaths in their place, which shook her frame from time to time. Simón could feel her breath against his skin, warm as the tears she spilled, but they became fewer and fewer. Her hands slid down his back, and it was like they pulled the words out of his mouth before he could think whether he should say them.
“And I don’t regret meeting you. I don’t regret skating with you, singing with you, falling for you… even after everything that happened. So, please, don’t say those things, Ámbar.”
Finally, after what felt like a shredder to his very soul, Ámbar's crying ceased. Her chest rose and fell steadily against his own and no more tears fell from her eyes. They stayed like that for a moment longer— how long, Simón did not know, only that by the end of it both of their breathings seemed to have synchronized.
Slowly, Ámbar started pulling away from the embrace, and Simón felt the sudden, irrational urge to bring her back into his arms and keep her there forever, but he reigned it in, and let her go.
Ámbar swiped her hands across her cheeks and sniffed, wiping away the remnants of her crying as much as she could, but there was nothing she could do about her reddened eyes. Looking at her, Simón felt a need to protect so strong that it hurt.
“Are you feeling better?” He asked her softly, hoping that the shaking he felt inside didn’t show in his voice. He had to be composed. For her.
Ámbar’s eyes found Simón’s shyly before shifting away. Not trusting her voice yet, she nodded.
She was embarrassed. She had never broken down like that in front of anyone. Hell— she had never broken down like that, period. She felt like she had cried for every misfortune in her life in one go. She wanted to berate herself for it, for letting herself break down, especially in front of someone, but she didn’t have the energy for it. If she had been alone like all those times inside her bedroom, she probably would’ve been able to hold it in. But with Simón holding her, she just…
Ámbar checked him over discreetly, careful not to catch his gaze. There was a wet stain of tears, smeared makeup and maybe what else on his tank top that she had left there, and she was sure a lot of his skin had gotten wet from her crying too. It didn’t seem to bother him, but then again, he was too nice to complain about it if it did. Even if it was her.
Simón’s hands settled gently on her upper arms and rubbed a little up and down.
“Is it alright if we keep going?” He asked in that same soft voice he had used before. A part of her hated it, and the look on his face too; rebelled against the idea of him thinking her a fragile crystal thing. But the bigger, more honest part of herself wanted to reach out to that softness and wrap herself in it like a blanket. “I just think that the sooner you get inside your house, the better. I don’t want you to get sick.”
Again, she only nodded, not having the strength to say anything back anymore. Not having the guts to say she wanted to stay with him a little bit longer.
For a instant, it looked like Simón was going to grab her hand, but then he seemed to think better of it and dug both his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
She would’ve held his hand.
Ámbar felt embarrassed once more. She was so weak when it came to him.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, both to fend off the cold and also to try and keep in all the things that were swirling inside her. They walked like that for some time, just the sound of the waves touching the shore and some people walking down the street.
“I would recommend you stay in the house too,” Simón told her, breaking the silence. “I know you were meaning to just grab your stuff and go to Emilia’s, but I think it’d be better if you took a warm bath, got rid of all the sand... and ate something, because I don’t know when was the last time you did.” He watched her attentively, searching for any reaction to his words. “Maybe have dinner with everyone one of these days?" He suggested. "Like I said, your grandpa misses you.”
Ámbar didn’t answer or looked his way. She just kept walking ahead with her eyes fixed on the ground and her hands tucked under her crossed arms. Simón was at least glad that she didn’t seem to be crying anymore, but she didn’t look fine either. Given the circumstances though, he guessed it was too much to ask for her to be.
Simón considered trying to strike up more conversation but decided against it. Maybe silence was good. A lot of things had been said already— surely it was enough for one night. For many nights. Ámbar probably wanted to be left alone now, not pestered with questions or small talk. Maybe she wouldn’t even want to see him again after this.
From her demeanor, he couldn’t tell if she was just lost in thought or mad at him. She clearly hadn’t wanted to cry, at least not in front of him, and he hadn't given her the option to leave alone, so he could understand if she was angry about that. Ámbar wasn’t good at vulnerable. Maybe just the reminder of what happened would make her want to run and so she’d avoid him like the plague starting tomorrow. Simón would understand that too. But nothing would be able to stop him from worrying and wondering how she was. He didn’t even know how he’d be able to fall asleep once he got home.
Finally, the wide entrance to the mansion could be seen ahead of them, the orange ceilings of the structure standing tall against the dark of the night, almost blending in together. Simón knew Ámbar didn’t have her keys with her, but surely the doorman would let her in through the gate, so it was alright. Should he come in too? A part of him wanted to tuck her in himself, but he knew that was ridiculous. No, he’d just stay by the entrance until she got to the door and then—
“Simón?”
Simón turned at the sound of Ámbar’s voice and found her standing some steps behind him. She must have stopped walking at some point without him noticing, lost in his thoughts as he was.
He didn’t know what was it exactly that he saw in her gaze at that moment, only that it rooted him in place. Their shared look didn’t last more than a couple of seconds— it couldn’t have— because in an instant, Ámbar was running over to him, holding his face between her palms, and kissing him on the mouth.
Simón’s eyes closed on instinct, but the rest of his body became paralyzed. His breath caught in his throat at the feel of Ámbar's lips on his, a little chapped from the sea breeze but still soft. She was kissing him firmly, with a taste of urgency or some deep-rooted need.
Whatever it was, he had to pull away. This was wrong. He had to end it.
But when she started to part, he didn’t let her. His senses rebelled against her retreat. His hands grabbed her waist and pressed her against him, and he kissed her back. Soundly. Eagerly. So full of desperation that it was like a plea.
Don’t go.
Simón didn’t need to pull away. He didn’t need to stop this— He needed her.
Please don’t go.
Ámbar’s lips moved against his with renewed confidence, rekindled fire. Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing them even closer. Simón let out a sound, low and pleased, and allowed his hands relearn her. He had missed her hair, her shape, the slow slide of her lips, and the taste of her mouth. He missed the way they seemed to fit together perfectly, the warmth of her touch as her hands ran over his body, the way she seemed delicate but her hold was strong and sure, electrifying, just like her presence in any room.
Nothing else mattered right now or even registered in his brain. Nothing was important, not even breathing, only this. Just her tongue against his, her scent mixed with the salt of the sea, the feeling of her body between his arms, and the little gasps she took in before he smothered them out.
They had never kissed like this before. The few kisses they’d shared had been unhurried, soft, because they had all the time in the world.
They thought they had all the time in the world.
Now their kiss was ravenous, frantic, with both of them trying to consume the other. Ámbar's fingers tugged at his hair. Simón tried and failed to get enough of her mouth. He was gripping her so tightly he would wonder if it hurt if she hadn’t been holding him just as hard. It was like they wanted to fuse into one so they’d never have to part again.
But the burn in their lungs was too strong for them to keep fighting it forever.
They broke apart just enough to draw in some air. They were both breathing hard and trembling from the aftershock of sensations. For a moment, that was all they did— Hold onto each other and try to keep their hearts inside their chests.
Simón opened his eyes and found Ámbar’s— Beautiful, dilated, and yet, so very melancholic.
She moved, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Her thumb caressed his cheek.
“Thank you,” she said, softly. She lowered her hand. “Goodbye.”
Just like that, she parted from his arms and walked away, leaving nothing but air where she once stood.
It was the first time in the entire night that Simón felt cold.
He turned to watch her cross the gate and walk up to the front door of the mansion. It closed behind her. Ámbar didn’t look back once.
Simón understood what that meant.
That kiss had been a farewell, one last goodbye, the closure they didn't get to have because of all the drama that surrounded their end.
Now their walk was over, and with it the truce they had put on, like one final performance before the curtain closed on what was once them.
There was no ‘them’ anymore.
(There hadn't been for a while.)
Standing there outside the mansion, Simón wondered why it hurt so much.
His keys rattled as he opened the door and walked inside his house. His mom, sitting at the living room table with a cup of tea in front of her, greeted him back.
“Didn’t you have a hoodie?” She asked him.
Simón looked down at himself. Considering how things had left off, he doubted Ámbar would approach him again.
“I… must have left it somewhere.”
“You lost it, you mean.” Her mother shook her head, with that blend of exasperated fondness only mothers seemed to pull off so well. “You airhead. You’re hopeless.”
Flashbacks of the night ran through his mind. Simón went up to his room.
“…Yeah. I guess so.”
…
..
.