Chapter 10. The Kiss

10. The Kiss

Third Person's POV

Ximara smoothed the hem of her cream blouse and adjusted the light scarf at her neck as she crossed the plaza.

Arthur’s text replayed in her mind—Meet me at 7. Plaza Dorrego. Let's grab dinner.

Arthur waited beneath one of the lamps, sleeves rolled, jacket open. When he saw her he smiled.

“Hey,” he said. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling heat creep up her neck. “You too.”

“I found a spot,” he said, nodding toward a side street. “Good food.”

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked together, shoulders brushing now and then, the moment settling into something comfortable without effort.

The trattoria he chose was tucked at the end of the lane—small, intimate, its walls lined with faded photographs and shelves of old wine bottles. They took a corner table.

“So,” he began, leaning in slightly, “tell me something I don’t know about you. Something off the grid.”

She laughed softly, surprised by how easy it was to open up. “Okay… when I was little, I wanted to be a racer. Not just watch—drive.” She grinned. “I used to sneak into my dad’s garage, sit in his old truck, and pretend I was flying around a track.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, delight flickering in his eyes. A girl that's seriously intrested in racing was new for him. “Seriously? That’s wild—I like that. Ever actually driven on a track?”

“Not yet,” she said, sipping her water. “Life had different plans. Design found me instead.”

“Still,” he said, smiling, “that rush you’re talking about—I get it. It’s kinda why I’m still doing this. Track’s been my whole world.”

“What got you hooked?” she asked.

He shrugged lightly. “Same as you—old broadcasts, dusty TV, grainy races. They got my interest from a very young age and here tracks found me.”

Their meals arrived—steak for him, pasta for her—and the conversation flowed like they’d been doing this for years.

He told her stories of growing up in a small town, of his brother’s pranks, of his mother’s gentle encouragement. She spoke about Ali’s stubborn love, her childhood sketches, late nights perfecting designs.

“You’re easy to talk to,” Arthur said eventually, his gaze steady over the candle’s glow. “Most people treat me like an image—not a person.”

“Same here,” she said softly. “Feels good to just… be.”

______________________

Unseen, someone followed.

The stalker stood at the edge of the plaza as they walked away together, his figure fading into the crowd.

Her cream blouse caught the light when she laughed, the sound carrying back to him like a slap. It should have been his laughter she shared. His hand she was holding not Arthur’s.

He followed at a distance, and crowds made it easy. From across the street, he stopped near the trattoria window and watched them inside. Ximara leaning forward. Arthur smiling at something she said.

Jealousy burned hot and sharp in his chest.

She deserved devotion. Not a man who lived for applause. Not someone who would leave her behind the moment the crowd moved on.

He stepped into a narrow alley and pulled out his phone.

“It’s me,” he said quietly when the call connected. “Arthur Vance. I want everything related to him. All his history, habits, weaknesses. All of it.”

There was a pause. “Uh… who’s this for?”

“Just do it,” he snapped, ending the call.

He slipped the phone away and looked back toward the restaurant. The light from inside framed them like a picture he wanted to tear apart. Arthur had no idea what he’d stepped into.

———————

When dinner ended, Ximara and Arthur walked back towards Plaza Dorrego, side by side.

“I had a really good time,” Arthur said once they reached the square. He turned to face her fully, his smile easy but sincere. “We should do this again.”

“I did too,” she said, warmth spreading through her chest. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They stood there for a second longer than necessary. Then he stepped back.

“See you soon, Ximara.”

She watched him go, a soft smile tucking as she turned away.

Behind her, the stalker blended into the moving crowd. His phone vibrated.

Vance check started, sir. I will get you the results soon.

He read the message once, then slid the phone into his pocket, eyes never leaving her.

With every step she took, his resolve tightened.

No one else would get to lead her forward. She was his and will always be.

___________________

In her room, Ximara slipped off her scarf and sank onto the bed, the warmth of the evening still clinging to her. She didn’t want to let it go just yet. She picked up her phone, hesitated for barely a second, then tapped Alister’s name.

He answered almost immediately.

“Hey,Mara!” His gruff voice came through. “How are you?”

“Hey, Ali,” she said, smiling so hard it softened her words. “Yeah. I’m… really good. Like—really good.”

There was a pause. She could picture his expression without seeing it.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Something’s got you soundin’ like that. Out with it.”

She curled her legs beneath her, a quiet laugh slipping out. “I just got back from a date. With Arthur Vance. Dinner, talking, just… us. It was amazing. I think he actually likes me.”

“Arthur Vance?” Alister repeated, his tone shifting. “The racer?”

“Yeah,” she said, still riding the high. “He’s not what people think. He listens. He asks questions. He sees me. It felt… special. I felt special, Ali.”

The silence that followed lasted a beat too long.

“You sound happy,” he said at last, his voice gentler now. “I haven’t heard you like this in a long time.”

“I am,” she said, sinking back against the pillows. “After everything with Mom and Dad… this feels like a win.”

He let out a slow breath. “I’m glad. Truly. Just—be careful, Mara. Don’t let some smooth-talking pretty boy mess with your heart. You worked too damn hard to get where you are.”

Her smile softened, the reminder pulling her back to earth. “I know. I’m not rushing in. I promise.”

“Good,” he said, though the tension didn’t fully leave his voice. He couldn’t shake the fear of her getting hurt again, of watching someone undo the healing he’d spent time helping her build. Still, hearing her happy now… he wouldn’t take that from her. “Get some sleep. And keep your eyes open.”

She smiled and ended the call.

__________

The weeks rolled by.

They met every few evenings. Sometimes at small bistros. Sometimes by the Río de la Plata. Other nights, tucked into cafés buzzing with espresso and low conversation.

Each meeting peeled something back. Ximara barely noticed how fast time moved as the league stage crept closer.

Her days were consumed with final adjustments and fine-tuning of dressing rooms, reworking lighting angles, checking locker placements again and again until she was satisfied.

The track was buzzing around her with practices, mechanics shouting over engines, test runs echoing everywhere, but she was busy chasing the designs, adamant to finish them before deadline.

One evening, Arthur asked her to meet at the park near the track.

The sun was slipping in the horizon, jacaranda trees were shedding purple petals that dotted the grass like paint.

Arthur was waiting beneath them in a worn racing jacket, hands tucked into his pockets. Ximara joined him in a simple sundress.

They walked slowly beneath the trees.

“Finally everything is setting in place,” Arthur said, eyes fixed on the curve of the track in the distance. “This tournament is everything for us. Months of work. Every second counts.” He exhaled, jaw tightening. “I’m not here just to show up. I want first place.”

She studied him, catching the intensity etched into his face. “You’ve always had that fire,” she said. “From those old broadcasts to now. It’s part of who you are. I am sure you can easily achieve what you want, afterall this is not the first time that you are racing”

His smile came easy, pride flickering across it. “That means a lot—coming from you. What about your end?”

“Almost done,” she said, nudging a fallen bloom with her foot. “Just tightening things up. It’s strange, watching something live in your head for so long finally become real.”

“Sounds like you’re winning too,” he said lightly, bumping her shoulder. “Those rooms are gonna be insane. I too believe in you, after the events our dressing rooms always feel like home.”

She laughed, a blush creeping in. “I hope so. I’ve poured everything into them.”

They walked a little farther before he slowed, glancing at her with a careful look.

“So,” he said casually, though his eyes stayed alert, “what kind of guy do you usually go for?”

She stopped.

Her gaze dropped. Something cold washed over her. She folded her arms around herself.

Arthur noticed immediately. “That question didn’t sit right?” he asked gently. “You looked… off.”

“No,” she said quickly, then hesitated. “It’s just—”

She inhaled, steadying herself.

“I don’t really have a boyfriend,” she said. “I never had.”

He frowned, confused. “Why not?”

The words rushed out before she could soften them.

“Come on. Be honest,” she said, forcing a small laugh that didn’t land. “I know I’m overweight. I know I’m not beautiful. You were kind earlier, but I see myself. No one’s looking twice at an overweight, ugly elephant, not when everyone else looks perfect around them.”

Silence followed them.

Arthur stopped walking. He turned toward her fully, his expression shifting to serious ones.

“Ximara,” he said quietly, “you don’t get to talk about yourself like that.” His voice stayed calm, steady. “You look good. And whoever ends up with you, they’ll be damn lucky. I mean that.”

Did he mean her…or just the idea of someone like her?

“We’ll see,” she said, managing a small, uneven smile as she turned away.

She didn’t get far.

Arthur caught her hand and pulled her back—not rough, but sure. She stumbled into him, breath leaving her as his scent surrounded her.

“Arthur—” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

He framed her face with both hands and kissed her.

The world dropped out from under her.

She froze for a second trying to register what was happening around them, then melted, fingers clutching his jacket as her heartbeat thundered. His lips moved against hers with intent, his hands warm and grounding, the taste of wine and heat flooding her senses. For a moment, there was nothing else.

Then, all of a sudden, a light flashes around her.

Sharp and blinding. They pulled away from each other.

Cameras were snapping around them.

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