"How can you shoot so well? Are you secretly part of the mafia or something?"

Ace is still amazed as we walk hand in hand towards the parking lot, each holding our respective stuffed animals with our free arms. My little lesson of humility at the shooting booth has left him truly shocked, and he's spent the last five minutes suggesting various explanations for my rifle technique. He's mentioned the mafia, hitwoman jobs, hunting expertise... a thousand options that have made me laugh until my stomach started hurting.

"I already told you! I've been shooting at booths like that since I was six, plus practicing every time I went to my grandparents' house with their BB gun. It's not the most complicated thing in the world, especially if you have some practice."

"I don't buy it; you're part of the Spanish mafia or something. How can I know you haven't been hired to assassinate me? I'm quite a catch," he says with a purely dramatic expression of fear.

"Listen, curls," I say, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow "if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. I have good enough aim to be a sniper and make it look like an accident."

I accompany my words by raising my hands as if holding an invisible rifle, aiming it directly at his face. I pretend to pull the trigger and make a shooting sound, laughing when he acts like he's falling backward, dead.

"The thing is, you couldn't complete the mission because you ended up falling in love with me. Now you'll have to explain to your boss what happened and hide forever with a new identity."

"Honey, Hollywood is calling. They want you to write a script for one of those terrible dramatic movies," I laugh, pretending to hand him an imaginary phone.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but now I'm living in constant fear."

Ace looks at me with the scared expression a little kid would make, exaggerating so much that it's endearing. His cow eyes make me laugh and rise up on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. When we get to the car, he opens the door for me as seems to be usual for him now, and soon we're back on the road again.

"So, what's our next stop? Because I'm starving."

"We've got two more activities to put the cherry on top of this date. As you might have guessed, it's lunchtime already, and I'm pretty sure you're going to love the place."

Ace keeps his mystery, enduring with the patience of a thousand-year-old tree my endless questions trying to figure out our next stop. I love surprises, but I always try to guess what awaits me because of the excitement it brings. I can't help it; I'm incredibly curious, and my nature often clashes with my desire to keep the surprise.

Just fifteen minutes later, we arrive at our destination. I get out of the car, holding his hand as I look at the building in front of me, quite confused. To be completely honest, I was expecting to go to some super-exclusive fancy restaurant where the menu costs more than an average salary. That's why I'm surprised when Ace parks the car in front of a mall, where the only restaurants I see are fast food. Not that I mind eating a burger; I just want to be with him. It's just that I didn't expect this destination.

"Nothing to say?" he asks with an adorable smile, as if he's been reading my thoughts.

"I have a lot of questions, but I know you're not going to answer any of them, so I'm not wasting my breath."

"I see you're learning, bunny."

Inside, I see the food court at the back, next to some descending stairs. As I predicted, Ace guides me there, prompting even more questions in my head. We head to the entrance of a crowded McDonald's, and I'm about to walk in when Ace pulls me to the right to go down the stairs.

"But aren't we going to eat?" I ask, confused.

He just looks at me with a mysterious smile, leading me down the stairs. When we're almost there, Ace stands behind me and covers my eyes with his hands. My heart starts to race, eager to know what on earth could be hidden beneath a mall that would interest us. At this point, I'm expecting literally anything from him.

Ace stops me at some point, still covering my eyes. A myriad of familiar, delicious smells reach me, but I can't quite distinguish them. The only thing I'm certain of right now is that the food is going to be spectacular.

"Bunny," he finally speaks, his voice filled with excitement "welcome to Little Spain."

His hands move away from my eyes, revealing the loveliest thing I've seen in a long time. In front of us I see a market like those I used to see in Madrid, full of food that looks absolutely amazing. There are numerous stalls, each representing a different autonomous community of Spain. I see Galicia with its famous octopus, Asturias with its cachopos, Valencia with the iconic paella... Every stall offers both purchases and meals, with cooks and tables in each space. The market is so beautiful and reminds me so much of home that I feel like crying. I can't believe Ace found this place for me, knowing that it would make me incredibly happy to be reminded of my homeland.

Through soft laughter, his hand finds mine to start guiding me through the place. I'm unable to speak because I know that if I say anything, I'll break down and cry from the emotion. Passing by the stalls, I see even more details, more foods from my country that I'm eager to try, but above all, I want him to try everything I love so much.

"I hope you don't mind that I picked a specific menu from all these options."

I just shake my head, trying to hold back the tears to avoid breaking down. Ace seems to understand and respect it because he doesn't press me to talk, taking my gesture as an answer.

At that moment, we stop in front of the Valencian section, and Ace stands nervously in front of the counter.

"Hola... ¿sería tan amable de... de servirnos dos platos de paella? ¹" he asks the server in Spanish with his particular American accent that drives me crazy.

I turn to look at him so quickly I almost crack my neck. The last thing I expected today was to hear Ace order Spanish food in my language, and that's what ends up breaking me. It's been a long time since I felt such beautiful emotions towards anyone, and it's not easy for me to process them. After so many years of not believing in love, I'm starting to feel it hit me like a freight train.

Tears start to well up in my eyes, and I throw myself into his arms, needing to be as close to him as possible. He's organized the perfect date for me today, making me feel like the most special woman on earth without expecting anything in return. I can't help but feel that I don't deserve it, that I'm not enough for him, but I also couldn't bear to be apart from Ace now that I know I love him. For once, I want to be selfish and not let go of the love that makes me feel so special and complete.

"I'll never be able to express with words how much I love you," I sob softly against his chest.

He gently holds my cheeks, pulling my head away from his body so I can look at his face. With his thumbs, he wipes away my tears and gives me the most beautiful smile in the world.

"You don't have to tell me, sweetheart. I just have to look into your eyes and see it in them."

His comment only makes me cry more intensely, hugging him as if someone might come and take him away from me forever. Ace seeks my lips with his and kisses me, making me feel like I'm floating in that wonderful way only he knows how. Our little emotional moment is interrupted when our food is served, which he accepts with a 'gracias' in Spanish before we sit at one of the tables.

"How do you suddenly know Spanish? Is your name actually Juan and you're from Albacete or something?" I joke as I try the delicious paella.

"Promise me you won't laugh if I tell you."

"Pinky promise," I assure, intertwining my little finger with his.

"The day you came to my house and I played the piano for you, when we shared our first kiss... That day I knew I wouldn't be able to get you out of my head. As soon as you left my house, I started planning this date step by step, confident that one day I'd bring you to Los Angeles with me. I found this place a couple of years ago and thought it'd be a good idea to order our food in your language. It made me excited to do it for you."

His confession catches me completely by surprise and impresses me so much that the tears threaten to return to my eyes. I fight to keep them at bay and lean in to kiss him, unable to stay separated from him after that beautiful gesture he had for me.

"That's beautiful, really. You knew how much I love my Spanish roots and studied for this moment. No one has ever done something so nice for me."

"I just wanted to impress you, although I'm sure I sound like King Kong struggling to say something coherent. I'd like to apologize to all the Spaniards and Latinos for making such a mess of your language."

"Ace!" I laugh, covering my mouth with my hands. "I don't want to critique your Spanish after your lovely gesture, but your accent is pretty rough. One day, I have to teach you how to pronounce the 'r's like we Spanish speakers do, because you do it like the French."

"Well, it's not that bad, right? Spain and France are neighbors; you must be similar."

"Oh, curls," I say, laughing before taking a big spoonful of paella. "That's exactly the kind of thing you should say in Spain if you want to die. We Spaniards are clearly superior to the French in everything, there's no question about it."

"Okay, noted, no speaking well of the French, or I'll be massacred by millions of Spaniards."

Ace pretends to write something in an imaginary notebook, making me laugh instantly. We soon finish our respective plates of paella, which were delicious, and get up. I'm eager to know what the second course of our little culinary journey through my country will be.

We soon find ourselves in front of the stall representing Asturias, my favorite region when it comes to food. I have no idea what he's going to order, but I'm not worried because everything I see looks delicious.

"Buenos días, ¿podría servirnos dos... dos esca- escalopes al... cabrales? ²"

The way he speaks Spanish is the most adorable thing I've heard in a long time. Our food arrives quickly, and we sit down to enjoy this simple yet delicious dish.

"Oh my God, it's like being back in Asturias, I'm dying of happiness!" I mumble with my mouth full.

"Damn, if all Spanish food tastes like paella and these weird steaks, the United States needs to revamp its cuisine urgently."

"Honey, the United States doesn't even have a cuisine. Your diet consists of burgers, hot dogs, fried stuff, and types of food brought from other countries ruined by your refrying."

"Why would I argue with you when you're absolutely right? No objections, bunny."

I keep picking at all the food, even when we get to the Catalonia stall to enjoy a delicious crema catalana that could easily come from a traditional bar in Barcelona. Ace tells me that Little Spain is a project by José Andrés, a very famous Spanish chef, something I didn't know. No wonder the food is so delicious, and the attention to detail is impeccable; only someone from Spain could do this with such love.

I get into his Cadillac feeling full, but not overly so, which is nice. Taking a little trip back to Spain has done me a world of good and confirmed my opinion that this must be the best date ever. We ate at three in the afternoon instead of twelve, how it's common in the United States, so the sun is about to set. The sight of the sea at this time of day amazes me as Ace drives along the coastal road.

"Well, there's only one activity left, right? Where are you taking me now?"

"No hints, little one. The only clue I'm giving you is huge, so don't ask me any more questions," he says, raising an eyebrow for a brief second. "Okay, here it is: we're going home."

His answer throws me off, and I open my mouth to ask more questions, but he silences me with just a raised hand. I can't help but huff in frustration, unable to solve my doubts with questions. As a result, I pout the whole way, making Ace glance at me occasionally and laugh at my sulking.

"Come on, little girl, stop pouting, I have one last surprise for you," Ace says.

Seeing that I'm not moving from the car seat, he doesn't waste any time and lifts me up like a princess, breaking my sulking and making me laugh. He manages to open the front door with me in his arms and carry me through the house to the garden. My eyes stay on his face, admiring how handsome he is for the thousandth time in my life. I only stop staring at him when he sets me down, turning my head and gasping.

In front of us is one of the canopy beds he has in the garden, the type you might see at a beachside terrace. The only lighting comes from candles placed on stands to keep them from falling over. At the foot of the bed is a small wooden table with a projector pointing at the smooth, white wall of the house. I imagine the house staff must have set all this up while we were out. The scene is incredibly romantic, and I quickly pull him onto the bed, thrilled at the idea of watching a movie together.

I see two piles of his oversized shirts and sweatpants on the bed, so we both change into them to be more comfortable when we lie down. His arms soon wrap around me, and I settle in with a smile, watching him turn on the projector.

"What are we going to watch? A romantic movie? You don't seem like the kind of guy who'd go for that cliché on a first date."

"Indeed, I'm not," he comments with a mysterious smile as he presses the buttons on the remote.

On the screen, I see him select the title: Trainspotting. The name rings a bell, but I've never seen the movie or know what it's about. What I do know is that it's not a romantic movie. In fact, trainspotting is the pleasure of watching trains, so I don't really know what to expect.

"Trainspotting? No way, we're watching a movie about people who watch trains."

A soft laugh rises from his stomach, and he nods, pressing the play button.

"Oh, bunny, that's exactly what we're going to watch."

I let out a sigh, somewhat displeased with his choice of movie. I have no desire to watch a mindless action flick filled with guns and blood that won't add anything to my life.

Oh, how wrong I am.

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

"Wait, wait, what does he mean by 'who needs reasons when you've got heroin'? What's he talking abou-" My question is cut off as I watch the next scene. "Holy shit, are they are taking heroin?!"

There they were, a bunch of kids barely twenty-five years old, shooting up heroin together in a dingy room in Edinburgh. There's even a baby crawling around the room with all the drugs nearby, which makes me gasp.

No, it's definitely not a movie about trains.

"Okay, I don't care that Sick Boy is a freaking heroin addict, that '90s punk vibe is seriously hot."

"So, do I have to start doing heroin and acting like a complete asshole to turn you on?" Ace asks, pretending to be offended.

"You know, you're only missing the first part."

My comment makes him playfully push me, laughing. However, I quickly return to his arms, like two magnets unable to stay apart.

The movie continues, and I watch as Renton, the main character, and his four friends continue stealing to fund their heroin addiction. It's all narrated in the first person by a voice-over belonging to Renton, who constantly justifies his terrible actions.

At first, it makes me feel happy; I even smile as I watch the friends run and laugh. But as Renton justifies his addiction and relapses, I can't help but feel uncomfortable, not entirely sure why. Nonetheless, for some reason, I can't take my eyes off the projection.

"The baby, holy shit! I knew it, you're all fucking careless!" I shout upon seeing the baby's corpse in the crib, dead due to the junkies' negligence who were supposed to care for it and forgot about its existence.

"This scene always gets to me. It's really messed up, huh?"

I nod in response, swallowing hard to try to ease the discomfort that's settled inside me. When Renton finally decides to move to London, away from his friends to detox, I let out a sigh of relief, but it doesn't last long. They find him, and he falls back into it, bringing the discomfort back inside me.

"No, damn it, Renton... Stick with your job, don't go back to heroin. Wasn't it enough to let Spud end up in jail?"

I can't stop biting my lower lip nervously, watching as the five of them sleep haphazardly in a hotel room after trading drugs for a large sum of money. Then, Renton wakes up and very quietly takes the bag of money from one of his friends. I see him about to leave the room without waking anyone, but he sees that Spud is awake. They exchange a look, and I hold my breath. 'Don't betray him, Spud', I think. Spud nods, and Renton leaves without looking back, making me breathe deeply. He is seen leaving stacks of bills for his loyal friend in a locker, while Begbie destroys the room in rage over losing the stolen money.

Renton walks across a bridge at sunset, carrying the bag of money over his shoulder, as the same monologue from the beginning of the movie is narrated by him, though I notice a clear change in message.

So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers - all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person. But, that's gonna change - I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm gonna be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television. The washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.

The final shot shows Renton smiling, choosing life in the most normal, mediocre, and simple sense of the word. And it's then, as the image fades into the movie's title, that it hits me.

I start crying without realizing it, letting Ace hold me tighter as he cradles me. He doesn't seem surprised by my reaction, even though I don't know why the hell I'm crying. A thousand feelings are fighting inside me, and I'm a mess. I don't know what to think, feel, or say. I can only cry and mumble things about the movie.

A few minutes later, a single thought manages to rise above the whirlwind in my head.

"I choose life," I repeat, gradually stopping my crying. "Choose life, however it comes, because it's the most beautiful thing we have."

"You got it," Ace smiles before kissing me on the forehead.

"Now I know why I felt so uncomfortable watching it. Hearing someone try to rationalize such a terrible addiction is overwhelming. But seeing how he decides to move forward, to have the guts and continue... Damn, it really moved me."

"Don't worry, that's a normal reaction," he reassures me, then shows me a tattoo on his wrist-three words written in cursive: 'I'm choosing life'. "As you can see, this movie shaped a great part of my life philosophy."

"Yeah, it reminded me of the tattoo with the skull and poker cards. I loved the movie; it makes you think about a lot of things."

He nods and smiles, clearly happy that I enjoyed the film. He turns off the projector, and we settle into the bed. Ace kisses me, pouring all his feelings for me into that gesture. I don't know if he wants to take things further, and I'll never find out because my phone starts buzzing like crazy.

I pull away from him and check the screen, seeing that my Instagram is being flooded with insults, comments about my body, gossip, and people going wild in general. Frowning, I unlock the screen and search for the source of it all. My frown deepens when I end up on Travis's profile, and suddenly, I feel the color drain from my face.

Because there I am, completely naked, as Travis records me while he's fucking me from behind.

Oh, wow, this one was intense, huh?

First of all, translations:

1) "Hello..., could you please... please serve us two plates of paella?

2) Good morning, could you please serve us two... two scallops with... Cabrales sauce?

And now, did you like Ace's original choice of movie for the night? And what about the last disgusting surprise?

I'll be reading you! ❤️