Savage Unapologetic(52)

Maybe I was being too hasty naming the driver Lighting McQueen, because Juan made that guy's driving capability seem gentle compared to his devil may care expertise. He weaved his roadster like he owned the road. Bat mobile had nothing on him.

He didn't seem too keen on differentiating between the green, yellow, and red lights. He just kept on gunning the engine, shifting gears and weaving through traffic like no one's business. And even though he looked competent enough, racing and roaring through traffic on a Saturday night in Barcelona wasn't in my bucket list. If we crashed and died tonight, I would drag him to Hell myself.

My lips pressed together, entwining my hands on my lap while I counted down the seconds, waiting for the damn siren to halt his megalomaniac-style of driving. So far, there seemed to be no authority in sight. The cops surely had been alerted. They had to be. No one got away with a stunt like this in LA, not for this long.

"Slow the hell down or we're going to get pulled over!" I lightly slapped his shoulder when my screeching didn't seem to get my point across. Come to think of it, my passport was back in the apartment. If they asked for identification, I had nothing to give them but cash and my top tiered Nordstrom credit card. Somehow, I doubted they'd appreciate my proof of identification as an avid shopper.

"We're here!" Juan exclaimed as he swiftly parked on a curb before killing the engine.

Here was somewhere dark, and the scarce street lamps didn't give me much to go on. As for playing the great tour guide, Juan Torres was awful. Next time, if there ever was a next time, I would decline his offer.

I softly panted as I glared at him, contemplating if I wanted to wring his neck or not. "What the hell was that? Do you have a death wish I don't know about? Because, if you do, kindly let me know so I can get a cab and not ride in this deathtrap!"

He laughed boisterously. "It wasn't so bad. Relax a little. You might even enjoy it."

This man didn't take anything seriously. Everything was fun and games.

He was about to reach out and open the door when I interrupted him.

"Where is here, precisely?" I arched a brow high, lips pursed with dissatisfaction. "Here," he pointedly said, "is Basílica de la Sagrada Família."

I paused, blinking at him. "The Antoni Gaudí one?" I had read about this before when my Spanish teacher had come to visit, and she had brought back all these beautiful street paintings she had purchased all over Spain. One that struck me the most was this church.

"The one and only."

"But it's late; how are we getting in?" Then it dawned on me. Typical Juan. "If you think I'm about to trespass, you can suck it. Not in this dress, and definitely not in these shoes!"

He frowned at me, disappointment etched on his face as he shook his head. "Are you always this  … " He snapped his fingers as if to find the right word.



       
         
       
        

"Sensible?" I mockingly interjected.

He shook his head, grinning, understanding my intentional pun. "You are that, but  …  always so  …  repressed!" he had a great aha! moment. "That's the word! You're always so cautious. Life is wild. It's catching the winds, the fire, the music. Look around you, take a moment to see the beauty of your surroundings. Open your eyes. Feel the wind caress your skin. Taste the rain with the tip of your tongue. Hear the melody nature provides us. That's what life's about, Cara. It's about living every. Single. Moment. You. Have," he passionately elaborated. "You seize it with your hand, run wild with it, and you let it free you. Maybe you can learn a thing from me, cariña."

Repressed. Uptight. Ice Queen. Detached. Icy bitch. I have heard them all. This was nothing new to me. Each person was different. We all bore our crosses in the way we saw fit. People shouldn't project their own beliefs on others. We all varied; some similar, some contrast. But some way, somehow, we found a way to harmonize and respect one's boundaries.

Juan had just undermined what made me the way I was. He knew nothing of my past and why I became this bounded, sometimes unfeeling person. I wasn't born a cold, guarded pessimist. Like all babies, I, too, needed nurturing, to be loved, to be kept from harm's way, but I'd had no such protections. No one shielded me from life's harsh realities. My experiences molded me this way. I didn't ask for any of this. So, for him to judge me in such a condescending manner, well, I didn't take that lightly.

"Listen, bubba, if I needed a lecture about life, I'll make sure to seek advice from someone else. Now, if you're done subjecting me to your 'carefree' standards, can we get a move on?" I wasn't going to apologize for the way I was, not now, not ever. This was me-take it or leave it. I couldn't care less.