Just Pretend (Gavi x Reader)

Chapter 4: Tipsy

Warnings: Profanity!! Swearing!! Kinda sad!!

Word Count: 7.4k (fun fact! if you've read the whole story, that's 27 pages of reading!)

A/N: The highly anticipated continuation to my ramblings. Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series (because apparently that's a thing people do?) Also, can you tell I'm a huge Bad Omens fan?

"Wait, you're from San Sebastián? Like the cake?"

"If I had known you were this funny I wouldn't have ordered a soda. It keeps coming out of my nose."

You smiled widely at Martin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You sat across from him in a restaurant by the beach, the dim yellow light complimenting the fading sun that cascaded through the windows. Salt hung in the air, filling your lungs with a feeling of relaxation. You rarely ever let first dates pick you up, let alone drive you an hour outside of Barcelona. But Martin had made you feel safe.

He had pulled up outside of your building, top down on the blue Mercedes he drove. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, allowing him to drink in your sight and let out a low whistle as you approached the car. Your beach dress swayed around you, hugging different parts of your body as you moved. Your hair was pulled away from your face, with the wind shifting a few strands. Martin jumped out of the vehicle at the sight of you, opening the door for you and helping with your bag. The car ride there had been a tad awkward, with both of you nervous to come across too strong or two excited. So he handed you AUX and got a feel for you through your taste in music (which was erratic and all over the place). He let you play whatever you want. Well, almost: when 'Like a Villain' by Bad Omens came on, he changed the song himself, stating that he "could not stand scream music".

You had both loosened up by the time you got to the beach. You set up on the sand and Martin unbuttoned his shirt, glancing up to make sure you were watching him expose his chest inch by inch. You decided to be just as bold, lifting your dress over your head without turning around. Upon rummaging through your belongings, you decided none of your swimsuits gave off the desired impression, which was "I was meant to be a rich football WAG please wife me now". The natural next step was to ask Angelika for one, and she did not disappoint. It was a light pink medium-slutty bikini, sitting ever so prettily on your chest and on the curve of your hips. You laid across the towel on your side, finally able to engross yourself in the conversation with Martin. Once you two started, it was almost impossible for you to stop talking. You were so enamored by this man, who was interesting and funny and good looking and successful and interested in you.

You had spent hours at the beach, walking along the water, swimming in the shallows, and just laying in the warm sand, all while maintaining a great conversation. He was genuine in all his questions about your interests and your life. As you put your dress back on, Martin stared at you. He licked his lips as you let your hair down, shaking it to get any excess sand out. He asked if you didn't mind keeping the night going by having dinner with him, which is how you ended up at a pretty tiny seafood place by the sea. The other three occupied tables in the restaurant also hosted couples, so you felt at ease sitting across from Martin and asking about his home town.

"Okay but I love San Sebastián cake! It's like cheesecake but better and doesn't make me feel like I have butter lining my veins."

Martin laughed shyly and rolled his eyes. He looked at you softly, in a way that few men had. Most guys looked at you with a hardness in their eyes: you were a challenge to defeat, a mountain to climb, a conquest to complete. You were the impossible woman and you were to be treated as such. But Martin? He looked at you with a delicate that made you feel like you were made of glass. He looked at you the way Disney characters looked at the princesses: like something special that needed to be cherished. You rested your hand on the table, and he brought his hand to drape over yours, making you feel like a high schooler with their first crush. It was sweet and delicate and everything a girl wanted in a romance. You looked up at Martin and saw what you had been searching for all this time: potential.