Better Together: An Álvaro Morata Fan Fic

Chapter 3

Álvaro's P.O.V.

I looked over at her from where I sat on the couch in the living room watching sports highlights as she came home from work. Her hair was curly (she refused to flat-iron it under any circumstances) and loose on her shoulders. She was wearing a white camisole, a pencil skirt and high heels. She was kicking them off as she dropped her blazer on the back of a bar stool.

She was required to wear make-up and it was weird for me to see her all dressed up like that every day. When I'd met her, she only wore plaid shirts, short jeans and indoor football shoes. And she most definitely detested make-up. The changes work had had on her made me have another perspective toward our relationship. To put it simply: I only now came to realize that she'd always been this beautiful.

She covered her face with her hands and sighed deeply. When she looked back up, she looked so tired. I brought my arm down from where it rested on the back of the couch and patted the spot beside me. She walked over very slowly and sat next to me. More like plopped. "I am so..." "Tired. I can see that." I joked. She looked sideways at me, a death stare in her eyes.

I brought my arm around her shoulders, not thinking much of it, and she smiled. She kept her eyes on the screen but I kept mine on her. I started caressing her arm in a way I knew I shouldn't. I could swear I felt her heart beating faster. I brought my face close to hers; until the tip of my nose was touching her ear. Her breathing became a little ragged and I knew she was no longer paying attention to the 'Best Goals of the Week'. She turned toward me slowly until I felt her breath on my face.

Our lips were dangerously close until she pulled away and shook her hands. "No. No, this is wrong. I can't. We can't." "Why not?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Because you have a girlfriend, you asshole." She stood up from the couch and stomped away to her room, furious. I knew it'd been wrong of me but whatever had happened on that couch was mutual. I almost ran after her: "Beatriz. Bea, open the door. I'm sorry." "Álvaro, please. Don't make this harder for me than it already is. Just go away." That confirmed everything. She felt it too.

Beatriz's P.O.V.

I don't know how I managed to keep my voice from breaking as I said that. He didn't bother me anymore that night and I cried softly for a while. I knew it was wrong but I wanted to continue what happened on that couch so badly...

The next morning was pretty awkward. We usually greeted each other and had breakfast together but I made sure it wouldn't be like that. I wasn't ready to face him and discuss whatever happened yesterday, which I was keen on denying. I took my things, my earphones on full blast, and didn't even look at him. I think I saw him trying to talk to me through the corner of my eye but, like I said, I wasn't ready.