me : i know you've blocked me, my messages aren't sending
me : you've probably deleted my number as well
me : come on camila please we can talk about this properly
me : you can't just drop me out of your life after these past few months
'i can't believe i'm doing.' i say sighing and scrolling through my contacts and pressing call.
'sergio?' asks gerard surprised.
'hey man.' is say looking down at my feet.
'is something wrong? i mean you rarely call me.'
'what i can't call my friend asking him how he is?' i ask.
'well it's just our conversations always end up with one of us telling the other to go and fuck themselves so this is a surprise.'
'i had a few minutes spare and thought i should call you asking you how you are.'
'well i'm great, shak has a new album out soon so which means a lot of promotion abroad which the boys hate. but the football season will be coming to an end so i'll be at home more. oh and camila finally moved out!' he says and my head shoots up at "camila".
'camila? how is camila? i haven't seen her in a while.' i ask trying to not sound obvious.
'she's good but at the moment she's being extremely distant with all of us. she goes to work and comes back, she doesn't come over anymore, she doesn't go to leo's. she doesn't even call me anymore.' says gerard.
that sudden pang of guilt hits me, i caused that. i made camila distance herself from her own family.
'oh that's strange, maybe she's going through a bad phase in her life and just wants to be alone.' i say.
'maybe, i don't know. anyways what's up with you lately?'
'i've been alright i guess, i've fucked up a few times over the past few weeks. i wish i could back and change my mistakes.' i say sighing.
'oh i'm sorry, what happened?' he asks.
'just personal stuff, i won't bother you with it.'
if i told gerard everything he would take the first flight to madrid and probably murder me. not only for talking to his little sister but for messing with her feelings.
'you do know if you ever need anything just call me sergio right? i'm pretty we can have a civilised conversation if we wanted to.'
'thanks gerard, that was actually really nice of you.' i say smiling slightly.
'papa! come and play with us!' says a voice in the background.
'alright i'm going to have to go, the boys want me to play with them. talk to you soon ramos.' he says before hanging up.
i look around my house, compared to piqué's family oriented, always noisy house, mine is silent and empty. i sigh at the thought of having kids around the kitchen table or asking me to play football with them or asking me to take them to dance practice.
i'm twenty eight years old, if i haven't found anyone yet. who says i will?
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