[ twelve ] 

Mariluz was so tired that she didn't wake until the next morning. Her eyes opened slowly and she took in a deep breath. Her hands stretched out over the matress to feel the softness of silky white covers. But she shifted uncomfortably when she felt the fabric of her dress make her skin itch. Her hair was sprawled in a mess over the fluffy pillow beneath her.

It took her a couple of minutes for everything to finally register in her mind and that was when she realized she wasn't at Ricardo's house. She was in the bedroom of a house she didn't know and she didn't remember how she got there. 

Her eyes scanned every inch of the room with white walls. Directly across from the bed was a flat screen tv on the wall. Everything was so white, so sterile and perfect. Whoever lived here was very organized. She sat up in bed and brought her hands to her face, screaming in terror at the top of her lungs. Her mind raced with thoughts of scenarios in which she might have somehow gotten drunk or drugged and ended up going to some random guy's house. But that couldn't be. She couldn't remember drinking anything. She was just fatigued from all the running around being Mariluz and Michael.

Down the hallway, she heard hurried footsteps and it was a matter of seconds before the door swung open. Mesut barged into the room holding a wooden baseball bat. His tired eyes looked like he had been woken up from his sleep by her screaming. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He yelled, worried.

Mariluz felt her face redden when she saw he was only wearing a pair of training shorts with the Madrid logo on it. Still startled, she yelled back, "Oh my God, Mesut. Go put some clothes on!" She covered her eyes with her hands.

He seemed to calm down when he saw nothing was wrong. Putting the baseball bat down next to the door, he sighed, "You think I was going to get dressed before coming in here? I thought you were dying! I was ready to save your life from some derranged lunatic or a serial killer."

"With a baseball bat, Mesut?" She questioned.

"It was either that or a lamp." He responded.

She thought about the silliness of the situation and burst out into a fit of laughter. Mesut soon joined in and sat on the edge of her bed. 

Her eyes watched the German footballer in front of her. For the moment, it seemed like he didn't hate her anymore. But maybe that was only because of the moment of laughter they had just shared. Though if what Gonzalo told her was true, then it meant her friend would eventually forgive her.

"I have a question for you." She told him. "Why am I at your house?"

He began to explain, "After the restaurant I was going to give my supposed girlfriend a ride home. But you fell asleep in the car and you were so tired that I didn't want to wake you. And I couldn't drop you off at Ricardo's place dressed like that." He gestured to the dress I was wearing. "He would catch on, so I figured the best thing to do was to bring you here." He shrugged as he spoke the last sentence.

Mariluz smiled at him. "You really are a nice guy. Any one else would have ratted me out by now. Especially Cristiano." I pointed out. "That guy hates me. Why are you even friends with him?"

"Eh," Mesut shrugged. "Cristiano is Cristiano."

Like that explanation could answer every doubt she had about the Portuguese astro.

She bit her lip, asking him another question. "Mesut...?"

"Hm?" He turned to look right at her.

"Are you still mad at me?" She needed to know.

He seemed to take a minute to think about it. Mariluz feared he wouldn't forgive her. In her time with the Madrid footballers, she had grown fond of all of them. The German shook his head. "Not mad." He clarified. "Just hurt."

And that response made her feel worse than him being mad at her.

.

.

.

.

The two had breakfast together, which Mariluz prepared, in silence. Right after, she changed into her boy clothes and Mesut offered to take her to Ricardo's place.

She stuck her key in the lock and pushed the door open. Ricardo was in the kitchen having breakfast by himself. He was checking his cellphone when Mariluz came through the door and he looked up from his plate of food.

"Its about time you returned." He said, trying to hide the fact that he was worried. "I called you all day yesterday and your phone was off." Now he was in scolding mode.

"I stayed over at Mesut's place because he was going to teach me some of his skills." Mariluz lied. And she noticed how effortlessly she was able to do it now. She didn't like it at all. "German's are really good with a football and quick on their feet. I really want to get off the bench as soon as possible."

"Hm." Was all he said.

Mariluz stood there awkwardly until she concluded he wasn't going to speak anymore. She decided to head to her bedroom. She was halfway down the hall when his voice brought her back, "I thought I was teaching you some skills." If Mariluz didn't know he was a devoted Christian who would never sin in any way, she would have thought he was jealous. 

She shrugged. "We're still training together, brother. I just thought I needed a little extra help. And Mesut offered--" 

"So in your eyes, Mesut is better than me?" The question was calm, but hiding an emotion he couldn't understand. 

"That's not it." She assured him, walking back towards the kitchen. "You're very talented."

Ricardo sighed. "Sorry man. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just taking out my frustration on you."

"What do you mean?" She wondered.

"I noticed the way Florencia looked at you." He said, remembering their date from the previous day. "She has never looked at me like that. She never even looked at Cristiano like that. And they actually dated."

"I don't know what to say." Mariluz bit her lip. "You know I'm not interested in Florencia that way."

"I know, I know." He nodded. 

Mariluz cut the distance between her and the kitchen table in a few steps. She pulled a chair out and sat down, ready to give him some advice that was convenient to her as Mariluz and not as Michael. "Looking at this as a third-party observer with nothing to gain from this I think you should just forget about her. Why suffer for a woman who doesn't love you? My sister, on the other hand, is a beautiful girl."

"Mate, she's dating Mesut." Ricardo reminded. "And she really is beautiful, don't get me wrong. But I love Florencia. I've loved her since I first arrived in Madrid."

Then we need to do something to change that, Mariluz thought.

-

actually keeping on track with my update schedule.

yaaaasssss.

today is monday so that means an update for hala madrid.

i hope you all enjoy reading this, i tried to incorporate a bit of humor into it because yeah. it was needed.

anyway, thank you for reading and supporting.

i love you.

-clary xx