Alejandra didn’t hesitate. She jogged after her.
“Joder, you really wanted to get out of there,” she called, catching up and surprising her.
Asma turned, her expression murderous.
Yeah. Maybe she should’ve listened to Callum and stayed out of it. But Asma had looked… Not just angry. Hurt. Alone. Betrayed. And something inside Alejandra—something instinctive, stubborn—refused to let her walk away like that.
Girl code. Sisterhood. Whatever the hell this is.
“Why are you here?” Asma hissed, eyes narrowing.
She reminded her of an angry Sofía. Yeah. She could handle her.
“I thought you needed a girl to vent with,” Alejandra said, offering a disarming smile, or at least attempting one. “With all that testosterone back there, it felt like you might need to actually talk.”
“Didn’t you notice me yelling at both of them?” Asma shot back, not slowing her pace for a second.
Her heels were impressive, honestly. Fast, steady, precise.
But Alejandra was still an athlete—injured, recovering, but an athlete nonetheless. And she had sneakers. She could do this for miles.
“I did,” Alejandra replied easily, keeping up beside her. “And by the way, I don’t think Callum deserved that.” She paused slightly before adding, more carefully, “And about Leif… maybe we could stop here.”
She reached for Asma’s arm, gently but firmly, and pointed toward a nearby English pub. Warm light spilled through the windows. Laughter, the faint clink of glasses, the comforting smell of fried food drifting out every time the door opened.
Exactly what they needed. Alcohol. And a hamburger.
At least,sheneeded that. She’d been craving one all day, and even if it was early, her stomach was very much ready after everything.
“And talk about what happened between you two.”
“Nothing happened,” Asma spit out immediately. It came out strangled. Like a dying duck. Yeah. Definitelynotnothing.
“Come on,” Alejandra insisted, already steering her toward the door. “Let’s go inside so you can tell Tía Alejandra all about thatnothing.”
She didn’t really give her a choice, guiding her into the pub. It wasn’t crowded—thankfully. Just a few scattered tables, low music humming in the background, and a soccer match playing on the TV above the bar. They found a booth in the corner, tucked away enough for privacy.
Asma scrunched her nose as she sat. “This is not my kind of place.”
“But it’s mine,” Alejandra shot back with a bright smile.
She grabbed a menu, already scanning for the burger she’d been thinking about all day.
“So,” she continued, glancing up, “I sensed some tension between you and Leif. What happened?”
“Why should I tell you?” Asma shot back. “You’re basically a stranger to me.”
“Fair point,” Alejandra admitted easily. Then she shrugged. “But sometimes talking to strangers helps.”
She leaned back slightly.
“But if you’d rather sit here sulking, I’m still going to eat this amazing burger, and you can keep me company.”
“Or I could just leave…” Asma suggested.
Alejandra raised her eyes from the menu, locking onto hers with a small smile. “And yet… you’re still here.”
Asma groaned.
