If someone had told me two months ago at that welcome party that I would be lying in one of the hammocks on the terrace of that stupid Greek god with blue eyes-who, by the way, is my neighbor-while we smoke wrapped in an embrace, I would never have believed them. But here I am, surrounded by those strong tattooed arms while smoking a cigarette, enjoying the city lights from one of the most privileged spots in New York City.

"I won the bet, now you owe me something pretty big after making you smile this morning."

"Haven't the kisses been enough for you? You've been collecting that favor all day."

I lift my head slightly to give him a mockingly murderous look, which makes him laugh with that beautiful musical laugh of his. The sun is setting behind New York's towering skyscrapers, bathing everything around us in its beautiful, warm orange light. Ace's blue eyes shine like two stars in the sunset's glow, making it hard not to get lost staring at his face.

"Excuse me, but kisses are a favor for you, not for me, bunny. And, are you pretending to forget that I cooked lunch for you? All the favors today have been on my account."

"Well, if giving me kisses is such an arduous task for you, there's no need to give me any mo-..."

Almost as I finish speaking, his lips silence mine with a kiss, pulling me closer to his body with his arms. I feel his smile forming against my mouth, which I can't help but return with a small laugh that gets muffled in the kiss. I feel like I'm floating, as if nothing and no one else exists in the world but the two of us, this penthouse, and what we're doing. There's no elite university, no hypocritical students who attend it, nor the families neither of us wants to talk about. Since I decided to cross the threshold of this house this morning, it seems like a little bubble has formed around us, making us forget everything outside. I can't even remember why I hate him, and every kiss we share only helps me forget it even more.

"With all the nonsense you spout per second, I'm going to have to shut you up more often," he murmurs once we part, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"The pot calling the kettle black. I've heard you were known as Mr. Dumbass in Los Angeles."

"Wow, such a clever nickname. Did you come up with it on your own, or did you need help?"

"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?"

"Nah, only about three times every millisecond."

"Not nearly enough," I manage to mutter before his lips meet mine again.

Our kiss is almost immediately interrupted by a noise that sounds harsh in my ears, as if it doesn't belong in our little bubble of ignorance and happiness: the tone notifying him of a new message. It's so annoying that I can't help but frown when he pulls away to look at the screen, like a little girl having a tantrum. While Ace quickly reads his message, I take a final drag from my cigarette before putting it out.

"Does this idiot expect me to answer? What, is it April Fool's Day?"

His rhetorical questions, filled with barely contained anger and hatred, make me rest my head on his chest, looking at him with curiosity.

"What's going on?"

"My brother just sent me a text. Apparently, he wants to do business with me, that fucking idiot. He thinks that just because he's the heir to my father's position in the company, he's the lord and master of the place."

"At the risk of getting my throat slit, I'd like to ask you a question with no ill intent: why is your brother the direct reincarnation of Satan?"

Ace sighs, and I feel his chest rise and fall softly, like a balloon deflating. I watch as he tries to let the stress escape in a healthy and gentle way, avoiding being overwhelmed by the anger he seems to feel towards his brother.

"Why don't we do something? Let's each ask three questions about whatever we want. We can choose whether or not to answer, but if we do, it has to be the truth. And if we decide not to, the other has the right to ask a new question."

"Like we're two teenagers getting to know each other? Deal," I reply with a smile at the prospect of learning more about him. "The first question I want to ask is that one."

Ace remains silent, which I take as a refusal to answer until I realize he's choosing his words to explain his response. I stay quiet, watching as he takes a final drag from his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray on the small table next to the hammock.

"Liam Hale was born two years after me. Almost immediately, it was as if my father had made two experiments: the first one, me, a failure, and the second, him, a success. To him, we were nothing more than long-term projects that would one day inherit everything that implies being a Hale in this country: being the company's CEO and a business magnate, knowing everyone who belongs to the elite; but above all, following every step Bruce Hale dictated. I refused from the start, always following my own goals and desires, which my mother supported, but Liam always did exactly what our father said. That's how he got the position they both coveted: the rightful heir to the Hale empire. But, unfortunately for me, children aren't financial investments you make expecting a return in the future as my father wanted, so he did with me what you do with an investment that doesn't pay off: discard it. He always ignored me, even more so when my mother died, devoting all his attention to my brother. And while I mourned my mother's death, alone and lost, Liam reveled in my misfortune from that throne my father had built for him, receiving everything that had been denied to me since I first opened my mouth to speak."

Ace's voice fades, his gaze lost as he watches the city. I can't help but pout at the sadness of his story. Although he hasn't given me many details, it's not necessary. The pure and strong emotions that his voice and expression emanates are worth more than a thousand words at this moment. Now I know how he feels about his family and understand much better the negative attitude he has toward them. It must have been very hard to live in such a lonely and unpleasant family environment. No child deserves to be treated that way by their parents.

"I don't know if it helps, but you're not alone anymore, you know?" I murmur while gently stroking his brown curls. "Not anymore. Now you have friends here, people who appreciate you and will keep you company when you need it, and... Well, you have me too. You just have to cross the door and ring my bell if you need to hear the best jokes on this coast of the country."

My words achieve their purpose, and a small laugh escapes his lips before they gift me a small kiss that means more to me than any words.

"I don't know if it's better to be alone or to have Mrs. Comedy as a neighbor, I must admit," he teases, making me laugh and playfully slap his chest. "Well, it's my turn, and I want to copy you a bit: what did your mother do to be Satan's embodiment on Earth?"

Despite expecting that question, I can't help but let out a sigh of resignation. I don't feel like talking about what my mother did, but the truth is that I feel that telling Ace won't be so bad. He has confessed to me the reason for his broken relationship with his brother, and now I feel comfortable enough to share my own experience. In fact, confessing my family situation to him doesn't feel unpleasant because now I feel that he may understand me better than anyone I know.

"You see, I grew up with my mother in Madrid, just the two of us, and spent my whole life thinking my father had died shortly before I was born. I never saw pictures of him or knew more than his name: Will. My mother refused to talk about him, saying she didn't want to feel the immense sorrow of their shared memories. I learned to be happy just with her, without a father, thinking I had the perfect life with my particular yet perfect family. But then, when I turned eighteen, I received a rather strange letter when I got home from school. It turns out that a certain William Arden, American, had discovered after eighteen years that he had a daughter with María Coronado and wanted to get in touch with her. Imagine how I felt after knowing that, discovering that my mother had been hiding from me my whole life that I had a father. But then I kept reading, and there were things that didn't add up about Will's version. Since I couldn't trust my mother, I decided to ask my grandmother for the truth, and after much insistence, I finally learned it: my father abandoned us when he found out my mother was pregnant, fleeing back to the United States. So here I am, refusing to know anything about either of my parents for being selfish, shameless liars. I'd rather have no family than have shitty parents."

Ace looks at me with wide eyes, exactly the expected reaction after the soap opera I just told him. He remains silent for a few seconds, probably unable to find the right words to react to my story. It's normal; it took me a long time to digest everything that happened to me, and to this day, it's clear it still affects me.

"And I thought I had a shitty father," he murmurs finally before placing a soft kiss on my head. "Damn, I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. Now I understand the relationship you have with your mother and totally respect your decision to completely detach from both of them. Also, I'll tell you the same thing you told me: you're not alone. If you need someone to make you laugh until you cry, only of happiness of course, or play the piano for you, just ring my bell."

His little joke makes me laugh, and I lean in to kiss him, caressing his face as I lean over his body. His lips welcome mine eagerly, as if both had been created for the sole purpose of being together. I never thought kissing someone could make me feel so heavenly.

"Hey, don't try to avoid my next question with kisses because you won't succeed," I joke, pulling away from him. "Okay, my next question is less tearful, at least I think so: how come you know how to play the piano?"

"That's easy: I took classes as a kid. I've always liked all forms of art, but especially music, so I decided to learn when I was about five years old. Music filled the void my father left in me, especially when my mother died."

"That's strangely sweet coming from you. Where's the heartless bad boy everyone seems to adore?"

"Who says I don't have a heart or feelings? In fact, right now I feel you're a bit... How to say it? Oh, I know: dumb." The laugh he lets out after his words is contagious, and I find myself laughing with him. "Okay, it's my turn. How did you end up sleeping with Travis? No offense, but he seems unfuckable to me, so I want to hear your version to try to understand it."

"Well, we all know he's an asshole if we've heard him talk for more than a minute, but you don't need to talk to have sex, you know? I never liked him, of course, but one day at a party we started flirting, and we ended up in bed. After that, we started meeting each other; sometimes he called me, sometimes I called him, and we ended up being something like 'friends with benefits,' but without the 'friends' part. He's very attractive and not bad in bed, so I just wanted to have fun, that's all. Had I known what happened afterwards, I would've never even spoken to him in the first place."

Ace nods, lighting another cigarette that he offers me after taking the first puff. I accept it gratefully and blow the smoke into the air.

"What I regret now is the possibility of what happened to you happening to any other girl. It's almost impossible to legally stop a daddy's boy like him so we'll have to endure it."

"Or we can opt for the alternative of fighting fire with fire and tell everyone what he tried to do to me. Maybe not everyone will believe me, but at least some girls will be alert to that possibility and avoid something bad happening to them."

He looks thoughtful after hearing my little plan before shaking his head, which makes my lips curve into a small pout of disappointment.

"Not to burst your bubble, but I don't think it's a good idea, at least not right now. He's really pissed after what happened at the races and the Halloween party, and it's not worth stirring up the hornet's nest. I'm pretty sure that idiot is trying to come up with a way to screw you over, and I wouldn't want to add more fuel to the fire. Anyway, it's a very good idea, and we'll carry it out one way or another in the future, okay?"

"Okay," I reply with a small smile before carefully choosing my last question. "And here comes the last bomb: is there any girl at the university that tickles your fancy, to put it mildly?"

"Tickle my fancy? Who are you, my grandmother? Couldn't you have found a less cheesy expression?"

"Well, leave me alone and answer the question!"

"I'll use my lifeline," he responds almost immediately with calm, as if it had nothing to do with him.

His answer makes me smile mischievously, immediately assuming he likes someone but doesn't want to tell me who it is. That only increases my curiosity, and I'm dying to press him until he answers, but I have to respect his decision not to reply. Ace is as stubborn as I am, and I know a hundred percent that, no matter what I say, I won't get him to give me a name.

For some reason, the thought of Ace liking someone at Hayden creates a sour feeling in my stomach. Imagining him hugging someone else, playing whatever she wants on the piano, or kissing her lips in that stupidly wonderful way he kisses mine is not nice to think about. These strange feelings don't sit well with me at all, especially after feeling so comfortable in the situation I'm in now with him, so I swallow hard and push those thoughts out of my head.

"Alright, coward, I have another question, and you will answer this one: why do you know how to play the Twilight song?"

"That's easy: because I love that book series."

I can't help but look at him as if a second head had grown on his shoulder. It's not that I'm surprised he likes reading, but the fact that someone with his personality likes cliché-filled teen romances like Twilight.

"Really?"

"Yes, I don't have to hide it. I know they're not the best books in the world by far, but I confess I'm addicted to teen romances. I don't know what the hell they have, but they are addictive, right? Although you already know that, you like them too, which leads me to my next question: being someone who doesn't believe in love like you, why do you like romantic novels so much?"

His question makes me sigh and take a long drag on the cigarette we're sharing, trying to organize my thoughts to explain my complex view on the whole matter.

"Look, I don't believe in love because in life happy endings don't exist. I once read a phrase that perfectly describes what I think: 'there are no happy endings; they are either not truly endings or not truly happy.' Everything ends up getting messed up one way or another, and in the end, you die, which is certainly not a happy ending. But just because I don't believe in happy endings doesn't mean I don't like them, you know? It's like unicorns: we all know they don't exist, but who wouldn't like to have one? That's why I read books with such perfect romantic stories, to at least touch a bit of the feeling of having my own happy ending."

Ace takes a puff on the cigarette and looks at me with curiosity and a little smirk, somewhat condescending and at the same time understanding. I don't know if that expression makes me want to smile back or kill him.

"I'm not going to say I agree with your view of life, but I understand. I don't know what has made you take such a negative stance, but you shouldn't refuse to try to make life more positive. We agree that death always wins, but it doesn't come to visit you until the end, and in life, there are millions of little endings. There are happy, sad, incomplete endings, and even some that can lead to sequels. To find happy endings, you just have to play the game of life without fear, without giving up, and thus find your happy endings."

Strangely, our philosophies about existence are based on the same premise but are completely opposite. I took my stance a long time ago, and it seems he did too, so it would be difficult to change our respective opinions. Despite this, I would be lying if I said that the passion with which he expresses his view of everything doesn't give me at least a small ray of hope, but it's nothing more than that, vain hope created by pretty words.

My thoughts are soon interrupted by the sound of my phone, indicating in that inopportune and annoying way that I have a call. The sound surprises me so much that I jump in his arms, making him laugh at me while I take the call.

"What the hell are you doing not checking the group chat? We've agreed on meeting at Brooke's house and you haven't bothered to show up yet!"

Cher's indignant voice resonates on the other end, and I can't help but feel guilty. I've been so immersed in this little bubble that Ace and I have created today that I haven't even thought about my friends. Now memories of the party are coming back, especially of Gigi and Brooke's revelation. I feel like the worst friend in the world for having completely ignored them to stay at Ace's place.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I've been sleeping all day and haven't checked my phone," I lie instantly. "Are you still there? I really want to see you; we always hang out after a party."

"Yeah, you still have time to redeem yourself. We're all going to sleep over here, so you'd better move your ass and come immediately!"

"I'm coming, give me fifteen minutes!"

"I'll give you half a second!"

The call ends, and I let out a sigh and look at Ace with an apology written in my gaze.

"I have to go back to the real world and see my friends. I need to have a conversation with Gigi and Brooke about everything that happened yesterday."

"Don't worry, bunny, I understand. Do what you have to do and make sure none of them feel bad about what happened. Tell them from me to live as they damn well please and happily eat each other's..."

"Okay, no need for vulgarities!" I cut him off before he can say something dirty.

I'm reluctant to get up from the hammock and leave the warmth of his embrace, which Ace seems to notice because he pulls me closer to give me a deep kiss, taking his time to savor my mouth the way I love. A smile takes over my face as my hands intertwine with his dark curls. His hands travel to my butt, giving it a playful squeeze before he pulls away from me, causing my lips to form a huge pout.

"Come on, pouty baby, go. You know where to find me, and I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Hey, babes!

I absolutely ADORED writing this chapter 🥰! Plus the song matches it perfectly ✨

What do you think about Ace's and Alexa's revelations? Do you think their happy bubble will soon burst?

I'll be reading you! ❤️