"Are you sure you don't know each other?" I ask them calmly.

"No," both Mikel and Jorge say, and their eyes lock through the rear-view mirror, and both guys look away.

Well, they look like they don't know each other, but both guys have been giving each other a cold shoulder, which makes me thing that they have to have known each other. There has to be a trip-to-the-past moment that made them act hostile... or unfriendly, I don't know, with each other.

We pass by Café Azul, which reminds me of Isabella and how she acted weird last time I was there, and turns right. He parks the car to the side just in front of Los Nuevos Camperos that I've seen before when Mikel and I were on our way to the beach. Jorge turns to look at me, and Mikel just climbs out without saying anything, though he waits for me and Jorge on the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?" I ask Mikel, who seems now to be in a thoughtful look, and his eyes light up.

"You're going to be a tourist," Mikel replies, grinning from ear to ear.

"What do you mean?"

"He means we'll be exploring the main reasons why people visit Tarifa," Jorge says as he puts a hand on my shoulder. "That's what I had in mind, too. Our first stop, Puerta de Jerez. That's that." He stretches his arms out and points to the wall that looks like it has been taken straight out of a castle.

And off we go there.

Both Jorge and Mikel are excited for me, and I look at them weirdly. I roll my eyes playfully at them and run after them as both boys begin walking towards our first destination. I push Jorge playfully and he looks at me, squinting his eyes, then chuckles.

We head through the entrance, and there's a lot of people taking pictures. At first, we head through the houses, all painted in white, and the further we walk, the older it becomes. I mean, the building.

"This is the only Puerta de Jerez that's being preserved," Mikel states as we walk further while I enjoy the view. "Fue construida en el siglo XIII. It was built in the 13th century."

"Wow, that's a long time." I say in awe.

"Hey, give me your phone, and I'll take a picture of you. Like a tourist." Jorge suggests and wiggles his brows. I punch him lightly on the chest but give him my phone. He opens up the camera and points out where I should stand and pose. "Pose like this. Yeah, stretch out your arms as if you're carrying the world."

Jorge demonstrates and I laugh how foolish he is.

I head to the center and pose like what he suggests, so I stretch out my arms and pretend that I'm presenting the world behind me when behind me is actually just a bunch of old buildings, an old town and full of people, in Tarifa. I smile wider than I would have liked, but I guess I'm just so happy that I'm finally here.

Meanwhile, from the corner of my eyes, I see Mikel snapping a picture of me on his cellphone, and he has a grin stuck on his lips as he watches me through the screen.

"Que guapo," Jorge teases as he hands me my phone back.

"Gracias," I reply back, curtsying in the process. He laughs.

"Vamonos," Mikel says and points forward.

We walk further until we see the what looks like an old church. There are columns, painted in white, that are supporting the small statue just above the closed door. The columns are placed neatly on each side of the entryway. Just by looking at the walls, you can clearly see how old the church is. The stone walls are dirty, and there are smudges of faded black on the corners, a hint that it has been left this way since God knows when. Some of the walls are already chipped as well, and when you take a look at it, and if you're frantic and get easily scared, you would easily think that the whole place is about to go down.

On the other hand, great preservation. The church has been kept well and it's pleasant in the eyes. I take my phone and open the camera again, attempting to do a selfie, when Mikel slips himself in and does a peace sign while having a huge smile tugged on his lips as he looks at the screen of my phone. I snap. And then Jorge joins in, and so I take another snap.

Further, and entering through a narrower way, small shops are placed almost everywhere. Tarifa Kebab, El Bar, and there's a bunch of souvenir stores. It kind of reminds me of Divisoria back in the Philippines, a commercial center where a lot of stores lined up side by side, selling low-priced good. You can almost find anywhere there. Clothes, toys, food. Almost everything.

I take a good look at the souvenir, wanting to buy some but afraid of how much it would cost. It seems cheap, but I'm thinking in peso currency, and there's always going to be conversion that's going to happen inside my head. Plus, I don't have a job yet and I have learned only a few rules of Spanish grammar. I still have a long way to go. I'm only living with my savings left. Without the help of my tita, I would have died here a long time ago in Spain. Okay, that's me overreacting.

We take a couple of pictures. Of me, of me and Mikel, of me and Jorge, and us together. And the tension between Jorge and Mikel seems to have been forgotten already as they are already bonding, talking in Spanish, but they make sure that I get to be part of the conversation as both Mikel and Jorge are translating what they are saying. And I mean, everything that they are saying.

As we reach the seemingly-piece-of-castle-walls entryway, I suddenly become hungry, so we head back inside and grab kebab in Tarifa Kebab store. Mikel is the one to buy for me, and when I protest that I have money in me, he just shakes his head and proceeds to buy the food for me. Then we head back while munching on the kebab that satisfies my stomach. Thanks to Mikel.

"¿Estás feliz?" Mikel asks me as he takes a huge bite of kebab.

I blink at him. "What?"

"Are you happy?" Mikel translates, and I beam, nodding my head. He slings his hand around my neck, grabs his phone, opens the camera, and I grin. He snaps a photo. "Estás feliz."

"Estoy feliz," I chortle.

"¿Quién está feliz?" Jorge butts in.

"Todos nosotros," Mikel responds.

"Okay, we really need to stop the Spanish for now, please." I clasp my hands and stare at them with sad eyes. They both laugh, and Mikel shakes his head in amusement while Jorge turns around to laugh more. "I know I'm supposed to learn Spanish, but my mind gets easily tired when I'm learning continuously. Bit by bit is okay. And for now, let's stop it, and then later, we continue. Like, seriously, I'm already starting to have a headache here. English now, Spanish a bit later. ¿Claro?"

"Vale," they both say simultaneously and laugh afterwards.

Vale. Oh, fuck off. What's that? I roll my eyes at both of them and they laugh even more. Great, great, now these two are against me. Talk about teaming up. Jorge pats my hair and Mikel pushes me in the back, forcing me to walk. And they are still laughing.

"Hey, Andres, walk over there, just keep walking, I'm going to video you." Mikel suggests and I happily oblige, giving him my phone. Then I run a few meters. "Not that far." And I stop running for a bit, then he gives me a thumbs up.

He starts recording me, so I walk backwards while waving at the camera with a huge smile on my face. Mikel gives me another thumbs up and I run back towards them.

"Is your car going to be okay? It's just parked there." I ask Jorge.

"It is," he replies. "The lines you see, there, right there, they are meant for parking spaces. Nothing's going to happen with my car. Plus, I do know the owner of the store in front of them. He'll watch for it."

"Okay,"

We find a playground with just a few kids playing. We take a sit on the bench under a huge tree, basking under the 26 Celsius weather. Silence fills the space as we watch the kids, a bit tired from walking around the old town. Mikel takes a couple of pictures on his phone, and I'm not sure if he's taking a picture of me or just the playground, so I pretty much ignore him because I think it's the latter. Yeah, definitely the playground.

"Pablo likes it here," Mikel says as he stretches out his arm across the backrest, then squints in his eyes as he looks at the sky. "He likes to play with other children, but he gets exhausted easily. He would violently cough."

"Pablo has asthma?" I ask him, perplexed.

"Yeah, he does."

"Who's Pablo?" Jorge asks, blinking his eyes at us.

"My cousin," I say, and at the same time, Mikel says, "Su primo."

Jorge makes an "o" with his mouth. A couple of kids go down the slide, and they laugh, their moms watching over them.

Watching them makes me remember my mom. When Alex and I were kids, she used to bring us to the playground near the river in Pasig. We'd ride on a motorcycle, the three of us, and Alex was always sandwiched. Since I'm the older brother, I got to sit at the back, and Alex had barely no space to move–he could only move his head side to side to watch everything in motion as we rode the motorcycle. It's unsafe, but it's totally fun. Alex liked the curly slide, and he would go there a bunch of times, not really getting tired, and of course, mom would just watch us.

"Any problems?" Mikel whispers, leaning down a bit.

I look at him and blink, then give him a small smile, shaking my head. "Nothing."

"Sure?"

"I'm okay," I assure him.

Mikel doesn't seem to be satisfied with my answer as he still has that worried look on his face, so I pinch his cheek and then he beams immediately. The longer we bask under the sun, the pinkier Mikel's cheek get. And it's actually cute and adorable.

Meanwhile, Jorge seems busy recording on his phone. He points it at us, and both Mikel and I wave widely. He laughs and stops recording, walking over to us.

"So where should we go next?" Jorge asks. "Oh, oh, wanna ride a horse?"

We end up riding horses. This time, it's paid by Jorge, and I insisted again that I can pay. But he doesn't want to take my money. Honestly, it's making me feel like a tourist but in a bad way. I feel like I'm freeloading, which is one of the most annoying things I feel because I hate freeloading. But with their insistence and perseverance, I'm left with no choice but to say yes and sulk a bit.

The horse I'm riding on is a fluffy white horse, and we're horse riding by the beach where I can see some people parasailing. Mikel keeps taking pictures of me. Both Jorge and Mikel. They are in front. I keep smiling my mouth hurts now, but it's so beautiful here and I can't help but smile and enjoy.

Keeping up with everyone in front, I hold tight on the leash as the horse picks up speed to catch up with everyone. It was pretty scary at first, but I got over it. We pass through the trees, like some sort of jungle, and then in a few minutes, we're back on the beach and then, a few minutes later, we reach the stables.

Since I'm short, Jorge has to assist me and I thank him. It's already 6 o'clock. The sun is an artist that paints the okay orange, mixing with the purple hue as the stars begin to make their entrance before the night comes.

Before we head out back to Jorge's car, Mikel takes another picture, the three of us. Jorge slings his arm on my shoulder, and so does Mikel. I'm being sandwiched by these two guys. I grin at the camera, raising my arm up and making a peace sign. There's a flash that blinds me for a couple of seconds, and I blink, and Mikel laughs.

Then we head to Jorge's car and he takes us home. About 5 minutes of driving. I thank Jorge for the treats and the way he basically became my chaperone. He shakes his head and says that it's a pleasure, and there's going to be next time. I nod furiously. Then he leaves.

Both Mikel and I are now standing alone. Our eyes meet. He walks a bit closer to me and I straighten my back. For some reason. He beams and scratches his ear. His cheeks turn back to its natural color.

"He disfrutado hoy," Mikel says. "I enjoyed today."

"Me, too."

Then we just look at each other and for some reason, I become nervous. And he looks like he's nervous as well. If I were a cartoon character, I would probably be sweating right now.

"I should go," I tell him, finally breaking the silence.

"Ah, sí, sí." Mikel nods gently. I turn on my heels, open the gate, and head straight for the door. Until he calls my name. I stop moving. "Andres,"–I turn around to look at him–"Gracias por pasar el día conmigo."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask him, chuckling.

He shakes his head. "That's your assignment, though." I roll my eyes playfully. "It's early, but good night. And taste the pie for me, please? I baked it. Grandma's recipe."

"I will,"

Mikel heads towards his house while I enter my new home. The house is still empty, which means that Luisa, Pablo, and tita are still out there having fun. They are probably still in the mall. I head straight to the kitchen and open the fridge, and I grab the pie he brought earlier. I get a plate and a knife, and slice a piece. Before I grab a bite, I take a picture of the pie and me about to shove a pie in my mouth. Once done, I take a small bite and a smile immediately makes its way to my lips. It's good and delicious. Mikel did a good job.