"So, let me get this straight: before the real chimes, there's going to be some fake chimes that don't count for anything?"

Ace's expression as he asks me for the ninth time is as funny as it is adorable. I have been trying to explain the grape tradition we have in Spain for about twenty minutes, which seems complicated at the moment. I'm especially grateful now that I started explaining it after lunch because if I had done it a few hours before midnight, midnight would have passed without us being ready.

That's why I decided to start explaining while we're sunbathing by our wonderful infinity pool, enjoying our last day on this dream island. Tomorrow, we have to return to New York since university starts the second of January, and I would never skip a class. Plus, not only does Ace have to get back to work after this week without his phone, but he also has to finish his last classes and his thesis. This is going to be his last year in university, so he has to push hard in the final stretch to make sure everything turns out perfectly.

"They serve as a warning, so everyone knows that after those 'fake chimes,' as you call them, the twelve real ones are coming. You have no idea how hard it is to eat all the grapes on time without choking."

"You're so dramatic; they're just grapes," he laughs, pulling out the sunscreen to start spreading it on my back. "You make it sound like you have to eat twelve whole chickens in just a few minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but when you have five grapes stuffed in your mouth while trying to swallow and the eighth chime rings, we'll see. I'm going to record you so you can see yourself and reflect when you watch it."

Ace laughs before caressing my back, making sure every inch of my skin is covered with protection. I take advantage of the excuse to put some sunscreen on my hands and apply it all over his body, caressing those well-defined muscles covered in ink. No matter how much I look at him, I'm still convinced he's too perfect to be real, so sometimes I have to touch him to make sure. Besides, it's a good excuse to touch his body whenever I feel like it.

"Are you trying to rub off my tattoos with the sunscreen or what?" he teases with a mischievous smile, but he stays lying down without moving so I can enjoy myself.

"Excuse me? Is this coming from the guy who put so much sunscreen on my butt that it's impossible for it to get burnt in like five hundred years?"

"Hey, the butt is an incredibly sensitive part of the body to the harmful UVA rays," he assures with an expression as serious as it is comical, with a smile hidden in his eyes. "If you're not concerned about the integrity of your own butt, I'll have to take care of your safety."

His explanation, combined with his dramatic and sarcastic tone, makes a soft laugh escape my lips as I finish applying the sunscreen. Taking advantage of us lying together on a Balinese bed, I seek the space that's always guaranteed for me in his arms, which welcome me without hesitation. The temperature in Ibiza at the end of December is wonderful for enjoying afternoons like this by the pool, not too cold, not too hot. I wish we didn't have to leave so soon because this is a true paradise.

"I don't want to go back to New York," I sigh with a small pout.

"Neither do I, bunny, but we have a lot to do there. I promise that when I graduate and you finish your classes, I'll take you to all the paradise islands you want. We can go to the Maldives, Fiji, Sri Lanka... Just you and me, how does that sound?"

"It sounds like a dream."

A smile so wide it hurts spreads across my face as I think about taking all those trips with him, enjoying each other's company, which seems like the best plan possible. Just thinking about being with him, anywhere, makes butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach.

"Hey, I just thought of an idea that I think you're going to love."

"Oh, yeah? What is it?"

"Well, I'm graduating in a few months and still don't have a suit to wear... Would you like to help me pick one?"

"Are you kidding me?!" I exclaim, gasping with excitement. "Of course! What ideas do you have? Color? Cut? Bow tie or tie? Two-piece or three-piece?"

"Hey, hey, slow down, bunny, you're going to run out of breath."

His words come with a caress on my cheek and a smile framed by those dimples I love so much. We both burst out laughing at the same time, visibly excited about something as simple as choosing a suit for his graduation. He probably doesn't care if he dresses as a clown, in a suit, or in sweats, so I'm pretty sure he's only offered it to make me happy.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm so excited to dress you up, you know that. Do you have any idea, even slightly, of what you want?"

"Well, I thought it might be a good idea to go completely black but with details on the suit, you know? Like the one I wore to the Christmas gala, except instead of having gold accents, they'd be a different shade of black and maybe embroidered. That way, I could be both discreet and original."

"Wow, I didn't know my boyfriend had suddenly become a fashion expert."

Ace's reaction to my sincere compliment is simply adorable. I see him lift his chin proudly, and he smiles like a little kid receiving praise for something they've done or said. It makes me so happy to see him getting interested in fashion, especially because he seems to enjoy it and isn't just doing it to please me.

"The idea came to me while looking at Yves Saint Laurent and Armani's suit collections. They're two different concepts, but if you put them together, you could get something pretty interesting."

"You've been looking at fashion collections without me?!" I say with a dramatic expression of surprise. "That's like cheating on me; should I start worrying?"

"Maybe you should. I might like clothes more than I like you."

His words are immediately followed by laughter, and I take the opportunity to playfully hit his arm several times, trying my best not to burst out laughing.

"Stop talking nonsense. We could ask the head designer at Yves Saint Laurent to make it custom for you, to better capture exactly what you want. In my opinion, their suits are the best."

"Then that's what we'll do. I trust you completely; I'll leave it all in your hands."

"I can't wait to see you graduating! I'm going to be the one cheering the loudest; everyone will know you have a personal cheerleader who loves you more than anyone."

"So, are you going to wear a tight top and a mini skirt with matching pom-poms?" he asks with a wolfish grin, leaning in close until our lips are almost touching.

A small giggle escapes my lips at the thought, especially as all the things we could do once we get home run through my head. But, of course, showing up at a graduation of the American elite dressed like a cheerleader would be too much.

"Don't get carried away, curls," I respond, caressing his cheek with a mischievous smile. "I'll wear a normal, elegant dress; you can even pick it out. However, once we get home, I can put on or take off whatever the graduate decides..."

I start moving closer to his lips until we meet in a passionate kiss, hot from the very first second. My body is on top of his in just a moment, a spot that already seems reserved for me. Ace gently caresses my waist at first, but as the temperature around us starts to rise, his touch becomes more eager and needy. Soon, my shirt flies off somewhere, leaving me naked on top of him in a matter of seconds.

"I don't know if I like you more dressed like a cheerleader or with no clothes at all."

His words are almost muffled as he buries his head in my chest, leaving little bites and kisses wherever his mouth touches. His comment makes a giggle bubble up from my stomach as my hands trace the muscles tensing in his back when he leans in even more to deepen the kiss.

"And who says you can't have both? After all, clothes can be taken off..., right?"

"Oh, they can definitely come off." He laughs before stripping away the remaining pieces of clothing covering my body.

In just a second, I'm underneath him, letting him give me a preview of what he has planned for me once he graduates.

•

"The food was spectacular, bunny. You're definitely the best cook I've ever known and will ever know."

The shower of compliments Ace has been giving me from the moment he started eating until he literally cleared the plate brings a smile to my lips that only widens. Tonight, I insisted on cooking alone, making an effort to prepare a more elaborate and elegant menu considering it's New Year's Eve. Ace has been hovering around me, insisting in vain to help, but had to settle for tasting the food occasionally to check if it was too salty or bland, nothing more. However, since he sat down at the table, he's been reciting a whole repertoire of praises.

"Then you must not have tried much food in your life, honey." I laugh, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks. "Maybe you should go out more to prestigious restaurants to see what real good cooking is."

"Honey, I've practically been to all the best restaurants in the world, and I still think you cook better than any of those chefs with airs of grandeur."

He accompanies his statement with a frown of pure conviction that I find adorable, so I take the opportunity to lean in and give him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Alright, Mr. Compliments, help me clean up. We only have an hour left before the countdown, and we need to watch at least a few minutes of each show. We have to critique everyone's outfits."

"Alexa Arden critiquing someone's style? Pinch me, I must be dreaming," he exclaims, dripping with sarcasm.

"Excuse me, but you don't stay quiet either. Since I started teaching you about fashion, all you do is find flaws in everyone."

"How could I stay quiet if someone pairs plaid with stripes? That's a fashion crime!"

The indignation in his words makes me burst out laughing as we start washing the dishes together. It only takes a few minutes to clean everything up and sit on the couch in front of the huge flat-screen TV.

"Let's start with Channel 1, with Anne Igartiburu and Ana Obregón."

"Igarti-... what?" Ace stammers, and I put on the subtitles so he can understand.

"It's a Basque surname, honey." I laugh softly before analyzing the dresses of the two women. "Look, I wasn't confident Anne would dress well today, but that red sequined dress is quite beautiful."

"I guess Anne is the one on the left. I must say it suits her very well, and I like the hairstyle she's wearing. The other woman, however,... Weren't shoulder pads out of style years ago? And pairing them with a strapless neckline is too risky, in my opinion."

"I totally agree with you, although the makeup and hairstyle are very pretty."

Ace smiles proudly while I fill our champagne glasses, clearly happy to have learned what I've been trying to teach him about fashion. I'm also pleased because he genuinely seems to enjoy it, not out of obligation. Before changing the channel, we toast with our glasses and take a sip.

"What the hell?! Are they having a costume party on this channel?"

His exclamation upon seeing Cristina Pedroche with Alberto Chicote on Channel 3 is hilarious, and I can't help but burst into laughter, nearly spitting out the champagne I had just drunk.

"Welcome to New Year's Eve in Spain, where the main event is guessing what dress Cristina Pedroche will wear. She always covers whatever she's wearing with a cape until just minutes before the countdown, and it works out great for them because they always lead the ratings."

"Okay, the girl is very pretty, but it doesn't seem right to me for her to dress so weirdly for such a special event like New Year's Eve, does it?"

"Yeah, I have to agree. I must say that usually, when she takes off the cape, the dress she wears is appropriate for the occasion. Although in recent years, the outfits have seemed too simple. I feel like since everyone expects her to wear something sheer or revealing, she doesn't focus as much on the aesthetic as on pleasing the audience."

To illustrate my point, I quickly search on my phone for photos of the dresses she's worn in the last three years.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he comments, squinting his eyes to analyze every detail of the clothing. "They're not ugly, but they're too simple. I understand dressing like that if it's what brings in viewers, but I prefer elegance over simplicity. In her defense, I must say that they suit her very well; no one can deny that."

"You're absolutely right, honey."

I continue flipping through the main channels broadcasting the countdown, analyzing each outfit. We both agree that all the men should dress more interestingly and colorfully, not always in the same basic black suits. I take the opportunity to tease him, accusing him of dressing like that-or at least he did until I started overhauling his wardrobe with his prior consent.

The hour until the countdown flies by, and we ultimately decide to watch it on Channel 3 so Ace can join in on the excitement of Cristina Pedroche's New Year's Eve dress reveal.

"Pay attention; the quarter chimes are about to start. Remember, these aren't the ones you start eating the grapes on yet."

"I still think you Spaniards make things more complicated than they really are."

I just shush him before listening attentively to the quarter chimes, gesturing with my hand for him not to do anything. Just before the main countdown, I give him another signal, Cristina drops the cape to reveal her dress, and we start eating the grapes. Even though I have experience, I still can't manage to eat them on their respective chimes. Moreover, this is made worse when, around the eighth chime, I turn my head to look at him, and the show he's putting on nearly makes me choke with laughter.

Ace's cheeks are puffed out, nearly ready to burst, as he continues shoving grapes into his mouth in a near-desperate way. He's the perfect image of stress, trying to keep up even though he knows he's already behind and won't catch up. I keep my word and pull out my phone to capture at least a few seconds of the scene unfolding before me. When the final chime sounds, I finish my last two grapes calmly before looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, well! If it isn't a squirrel in my house, and I didn't even know. Did you find it as easy as you said it would be, or are you struggling a bit, little squirrel?"

He returns my gaze with a challenging expression, which is somewhat spoiled when he chokes on a grape and starts coughing. Realizing it's impossible to swallow all the grapes in his mouth at once, he ends up spitting some out and taking it slow, like he should have done from the beginning.

"Fuck these stupid grapes. Are you sure this tradition doesn't kill more people in Spain than car accidents?"

"Curls, just because you're too stupid to eat grapes like normal people doesn't mean the rest of us are just as dumb."

"Well, well! Who are you calling stupid?" he asks, moving towards me threateningly. "I'll show you how stupid I am!"

Before I can escape his arms, he's already tickling me, filling the large villa's living room with our mingled laughter. When I finally manage to break free, I run out into the garden, but I'm far from safe.

Like a bullet, Ace shoots towards me, picking me up and jumping into the pool with me. My laughter is drowned out as we hit the water, but soon we resurface together, our faces painted with the widest smiles. Instinctively, I wrap my arms and legs around him and kiss him on the lips, trying to convey all the love I feel for him with that simple yet deeply meaningful gesture.

"Happy New Year, bunny. This year I promise to love you more than the last, much more."

"Happy New Year, curls. I don't know if I can love you more than I already do, but my goal this year is to try with all my might."

Our whispers carry clearly in the quiet of the beautiful Ibiza night, and the loving words we exchange urge us to kiss again in that passionate way, a pale reflection of the deep love we feel for each other.

"Well, honey, I'm in heaven here with you, but we're going to freeze if we stay in the pool."

"Yeah, get me out. I need to wish the girls a Happy New Year even though it isn't midnight there yet."

Ace walks out of the water with me in his arms, wrapping me in a towel like a little girl, which I love. We both pick up our phones, practically for the first time since we arrived. I update the girls a bit, telling them about the vacation and wishing them a Happy New Year. That's when I get a call, and I see the name of the woman who calls herself my mother on the screen.

"María."

"Hi, honey, I know it's still daytime there, but it's already New Year's Eve here, and I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year."

"Alright, thanks. Do you want anything else?"

My curt words make the other side of the line fall silent for a few seconds, trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation.

"I just wanted to say I love you. I love you very much, and I hope that this year we can..."

"María, stop trying to guilt-trip me. Happy New Year and all that. Goodbye."

Before she can continue lamenting, I hang up and turn off the phone, turning to Ace with exasperation painted on my face. I didn't even bother telling her we were in Spain for obvious reasons. The last thing I want is to be bombarded with messages begging me to visit her since I'm here.

"Can you believe my mom just called to tell me she loves me? This woman must have memory loss or something."

"Yeah, she doesn't seem to get it."

When Ace speaks, he doesn't even look at me. His eyes are glued to his phone screen, and he's still, as if frozen. But that's not what worries me the most; it's his face. Despite the dim light, I can see that the color seems to have drained from his face, and his eyes are fixed, trying to process something. It feels like his body is here, but his mind is far away, wherever whatever he saw on the phone has taken him.

"Baby, are you okay?" I ask worriedly, approaching him slowly to take his arm.

Ace quickly puts away his phone before I can see what he was looking at and turns to me. His eyes seem to regain warmth, but they convey absolutely nothing to me, which worries me. What the hell is going on, and why does he suddenly seem like a robot?

"Yeah, perfectly fine. I'm just a little tired, and we have to leave early tomorrow. Should we go to bed?"

"Alright, if you're tired, let's go to sleep."

Before I know it, he's walking inside to collect the glasses and grape dishes. He's acting strange, very strange, and I don't even know how to approach the subject. What if I'm just imagining things? What if he's really just tired and that's all?

After all, we just stated we love each other more than anything, right?

•

Cold. That's what wakes me in the middle of the night, making me blink several times in confusion. I finally manage to focus on the room around me, seeing that it's still night and I'm still in Ibiza. Instinctively, I pull the bedsheet tighter around myself, trying to figure out where the cold is coming from. That's when I see the balcony door is open, revealing a silhouette I know better than anything: Ace.

He's outside, talking on the phone with a lit cigarette in hand. I can't hear what he's saying despite the silence around us because he's speaking very quietly, but he seems worried, even angry. I deduce that he's arguing with someone, especially when he raises his voice for a brief second. I notice his voice crack in a sort of whimper before he continues whispering while pacing back and forth on the balcony.

I want to try to strain my ears to catch some of what he's saying, but sleep overtakes me again, making my eyelids heavy. Despite trying to fight it, I soon find myself succumbing to its embrace.

And so, I fall into Morpheus' arms, feeling something bad looming over me, ready to drop mercilessly when I least expect it.

Hello...

I'll just say one thing: brace yourselves... ❤️‍🩹

I'll be reading you! ❤️