Chapter 13

Alexia

The transition from the salt-heavy air of the beach to the cool, dimly lit comfort of Pina’s apartment felt like a slow-motion replay. We had grabbed a mountain of tapas on the way—croquetas, patatas bravas, and a tortilla that was almost as thick as a tactical playbook.

Aurora was quiet. The sun and the sea had clearly drained her. While we ate, she sat curled up on the edge of the sofa, gamely trying the spicy brava sauce but reaching for her water every two minutes. She looked small, her skin sun-kissed and her eyes heavy, her usual Italian fire replaced by a soft, sleepy haze.

“Movie time,” Mapi announced, already dimming the lights. She chose some generic action flick, mostly because it didn’t require much brainpower.

Pina was on the floor with Luna, both of them already half-asleep. Mapi was stretched out on the armchair. That left the large, L-shaped sofa for me and Ora.

I sat at one end, keeping my usual distance, my body still buzzing from the shock of being dragged into the ocean earlier. I should have been annoyed. I should have been lecture-ready. But the cool water had actually done what she said it would—it had stopped the wheels in my head from turning for a few hours.

About thirty minutes into the movie, I felt a shift in the cushions.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aurora began to lean. At first, I thought she was just adjusting her position, but then her head tipped, drooping lower and lower until—thud.

Her head landed right on my shoulder.

I froze. My breath hitched in my throat, and I stared straight ahead at the TV screen, though I couldn’t have told you a single thing happening in the movie. She was warm, smelling of sea salt and that faint lavender scent from her apartment. A stray lock of her damp hair brushed against my neck, sending a jolt through me that felt more intense than any tackle I’d ever taken.

I waited for her to wake up, to realize she was using the “Dragon Lady” as a pillow and jump away in horror. But she didn’t. She let out a tiny, soft sigh—a sound of complete, unguarded trust—and settled deeper against me. Her hand, limp with sleep, came to rest near my arm.

Move, Alexia, I told myself. Push her off. Keep the boundary.

But I didn’t move.

Instead, I found myself slowly, carefully leaning my head back against the sofa, allowing the weight of her to stay there. My heart was thudding against my ribs so loudly I was sure Mapi could hear it from across the room. I looked down at her. In the flickering light of the television, her face looked peaceful. No defiance, no cheeky remarks, no “Ale.” Just a girl who was exhausted from trying to prove herself in a world that demanded everything from her.

I glanced up. Mapi was watching me. She wasn’t smirking for once. She just gave me a slow, solemn nod, as if to say, Finally.

I shifted my arm, tentatively resting it along the back of the sofa so she was almost tucked into my side. It wasn’t a “captain” move. It wasn’t a tactical decision. It was an admission I wasn’t ready to make out loud.

I didn’t like her—I told myself that one last time, a weak, crumbling lie. Because as I looked at her sleeping against me, I realized that I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want the movie to end. And I definitely didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe the ocean wasn’t the only thing that could be deep and unpredictable.

– After the Movie –

The credits started rolling, the white text scrolling over a dark screen and bathing the living room in a pale, flickering light. Luna was snoring softly on the rug, and Mapi was stretching like a cat in the armchair, reaching for the remote.

The movement beside me finally stirred the sleeping girl. Aurora let out a small, confused mumble, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek before she realized where she was. I felt the exact moment she realized her head was resting on my shoulder. She bolted upright, her face turning a deep, visible crimson even in the dim light.

“I—scusa. Sorry. I didn’t… I fell asleep,” she stammered, frantically pushing her hair back.

“It’s fine, De Luca,” I said, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. My shoulder felt strangely cold now that the weight of her was gone.

She scrambled to find her shoes, her movements frantic and overwhelmed. “I should go. Luna and I… we’ll just call a taxi. It’s late and—”

“A taxi?” I stood up, crossing my arms. The thought of her and the dog waiting on a street corner at midnight made something sharp and protective flare up in my gut. “Absolutely not. Barcelona at night isn’t Florenz. You don’t know which drivers to trust, and half of them won’t even take a dog the size of Luna.”

“I can manage, Alexia,” she insisted, though her eyes were still glassy with sleep.

“I’m driving you,” I said, my ‘Captain voice’ leaving no room for argument. “I’m leaving anyway. Get the dog.”

The drive to her apartment was quiet. The city was a blur of yellow streetlights and empty boulevards. Luna was sleeping in the backseat again, her head resting on a training bag, but the air inside the car was thick with everything we weren’t saying. I kept my eyes on the road, my hands tight on the steering wheel, while Aurora stared out the side window, her reflection ghost-like against the glass.

When I pulled up to her curb, I didn’t just unlock the doors. I turned off the engine.

Silence rushed into the car, heavy and expectant. Aurora didn’t move to get out immediately. She turned her head toward me, and for the first time since she had woken up, she didn’t look away.

I turned to face her.

The light from a nearby streetlamp cut across the cabin, illuminating the gold flecks in her dark eyes and the bridge of her nose. We were inches apart in the cramped space of the car. I could hear the rhythmic ticking of the cooling engine.

Nobody spoke.

I was looking for the rookie. I was looking for the ‘variable’ I needed to control. But all I saw was the girl who had whispered into my ear at the beach. And she… she wasn’t looking at the Queen. She was looking at me.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes again with an intensity that made my heart do a slow, painful roll in my chest. It was a long, suffocating moment where the air seemed to run out of the car. The defiance was there, but it was tempered by something softer—a question I wasn’t brave enough to answer yet.

The tension was a physical cord stretched between us, vibrating so hard I thought it might snap.

Finally, Aurora broke the silence with a breathy, whispered, “Goodnight, Ale.”

She opened the door and climbed out, whistling softly for Luna. I stayed in the driver’s seat, my hands still frozen on the wheel, watching her silhouette disappear into the building. I didn’t start the engine for a long time. I just sat there in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs, wondering when the hell I had lost control of the game.