1 Chapter one

Perched on the the bathtub, Callie dropped the phone on the side, disappointed from her husband's sudden change of schedule.

She wanted to protest.

What was more important than her and their wedding anniversary?

Investors. She could hear her husband's answer in her head. Apparently, her husband's investors were more important than anything else in the world right now.

"You know how impotant this is to me," her husband said through the speaker. His voice was apologetic, but Callie lacked the understanding in that moment. It was their anniversary, for christ sake!

"I've been dreading to set up a meeting with these people for months," he continued. "Just this once, Cals. I promise I'll make it up with you. I swear."

There was silence for a long moment, showing the displease Callie could feel.

"Cals, please?"

Callie thought of giving her husband a silent treatment. A trick that always worked. But, with that situation, she wasn't sure if she fould pull out a magic trick from her hat to make her husband drop his clients meeting in New York and fly to Barcelona and celebrate their wedding anniversary like they planned to.

She let out a heavy sigh.

This wasn't the first time she got stood up. There were hundreds of dates, dinners, lunches, birthday, and anniversarries that her husband failed to attend to and left her hanging.

She was used to it.

But,she was still hoping that he would come through and they would enjoy Barcelona together. See the architecture, the sunset, make love. Yet, she would be lying if she didn't expect this to happen. And it freaking did!

"You know what," she finally said. "I'll just book a flight back home. This is a bad idea, anyway. I know you are busy. Let's just celebrate at home."

"No, don't do that, Callie." Her husband stopped her. "I know you've been wanting to go there. You should enjoy Barcelona."

"Alone?" She rolled her eyes.

"We can facetime anytime. You can show me the architectures, the churches, the sunset, everything. Right?"

She stared at the phone and remembered what her mother told her. She should do other than being a wife to her husband. But it was their anniversary, the other side of her head argued.

"Look, Cals," her husband said when she didn't say anything. "I know this is a mess. It's our anniversary and I should be there. But this is our company. Our expenses is getting bigger so I should work harder. And, in the future, we will have those little dudes." They both chuckled. Little dudes was what they call kids. "This is for our future. You know what I've been through. I don't want them to experience it."

Hearing it from her husband, it made her felt that she was being too demanding. She knew why her husband was working hard and she tried her best to understand him. Even when things get a little out of hand.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just…"

"It's not your fault, Cals. Okay?"

She nodded, as if her husband could see her.

"Okay," she replied.

"Enjoy Barcelona. Eat whatever you want. But anything you want."

"I will," she answered.

"Okay. I have to hung up now. I have a call waiting with the mayor."

Callie wasn't able to say 'bye' and 'I love you' when the line got cut off and she was left with the sound of silence from the other line.

She took in a deep breath and leaned her head back. The bath was supposed to relax her but it seemed whatever tonic it had, it stopped working.

She grabbed a towel and got off the tub. Her husband wasn't coming so her plans went all down to drain. She would be having dinner tonight alone and see whatever it was to see in Barcelona with herself.

Unlike what her husband said, she didn't really want to go to Barcelona. Well, she wanted to celebrate their anniversarry abroad but not Barcelona. She wanted to go to Bora Bora or Maldives. Somehere tropical. But knowing her husband and his love for art and architecture, she wanted to please him. Paris was too obvious, London was too boring, and she just came home from a European travel with friends. She would've chosen Greece but it also an obvious choice. Barcelona wasn't one of her choices until she flipped through a magazine when she had gone to a nail salon and the owner told her that the place was more romantic than Paris.

Callie slipped on a short white thin strap dress and a high-heeled shoes that had straps around her ankles. It was sexy. She particulary chose this outfit to impress her husband. And by that, she brought nothing but her sexy clothes.

She wasn't up for a stroll around the city or see churches and what not, but she knew that she would only get bored if she stayed in her room. Seeing the soft and huge bed where she and her husband supposed to be making love mader her only upset.

"To the Basilica de la Sagrada Familia," she said to the cab driver when she settled in the backseat.

"Tourist?" The driver asked.

"Yes."

"You should go to Tibidado Mountain. Sagrat Cor church. Amazing sunset view. You will love it."

She smiled. "It's actually in my list," she said.

"Do you have any places to recommend as a local?"

Throughout the ride to the Basilica, Callie was able to list down places which, according to the driver, most locals would recommend going. There was a beach, a market, and more. Something the brochure from the internet wouldn't tell you. That was the reason why, in travelling, she prefered to ask the locals than what could be search from the internet.

Speaking of information from the internet, the Basilica was something she read out from it. She was searching architecture and half of the intenirary she came up with had churches in it. And, just like every churches in all over Europe, it looked the same. Big, tall, with spiky roofs, and lots of tourists taking pictures.

"So, here's the Basilica," she said as she panned the camera around. She was recording it for her husband. She would've facetime him, but he was in a meetin. "It looks amazing, babe!"

After she had turned off the video, she took pictures and selfies and sent it to her husband. No replies, as usual. So she moved to her next 'must-see'. The Magic Fountain. It was recommended by the owner of the nail spa salon and it popped out to her every searches about Barcelona.

It was magical at night," the nail salon owner told her. "So go there with your husband at night. You'll love it."

She had seen a fountain view in Dubai. It was accompanied by a song while the water followed the beat. It was amazing!

In the daylight, the Magic fountain looked huge, circle, plain and boring. There weren't many people either. The steps on the stairs were wide and she could see the city from the balcony around the fountain. She looked up at it and wondered why the hell she was there. And, as if the universe had heard her thoughts, someone had answered her.

"You look like you don't know where you're going," a voice said behind her.

Callie quickly turned around. A boy, no more than nineteen-year old, was looking up at the foutain with a skateboard abover his face, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun.

"What did you say?" She said.

The boy dragged his gaze to her. He had a very recognizable bright gray eyes. "I said you look like you don't know where you're going." He smiled. "Usually, tourists come here in the afternoon or evening for the fountain show."

As much as Callie wanted to deny it, the boy was right. She didn't know where to go exactly. She had list in her phone, but she felt unenergetic to go to those places. She imagined it all with her husbad. What was the point in going now?

"Or, you're just lost," the boy added a moment later. "Either way, it's none of my business. You're American?"

Callie nodded. "You're absolutely right. It's none of your business. Are you American?" she said to him.

"I actually am," the boy answered. "I'm Hardin, and you are?"

"I don't give my name to strangers," Callie replied. "But nice meeting you, fellow American, Hardin." She turned around and took pictures of the fountain.

"You look like a Veronica to me," the boy said, following her as she snapped photos. "Or, you could be a Genevieve. Which one are you? Tell me."

With a small amused smile, Callie looked at him. "Neither of those."

She knew what he was doing and she found it charming. She looked younger for her age and once-in-a-while, young boys would ask for her number in the street or hit on her when she goes clubbing with her friends.

"You're not a Veronica or Geneveive. How about Lauren? Victoria? Patricia? Carmen?

No, you're not a Carmen. That's weird. That's my grandma's name." He squinted his eyes at her. "Okay, I'm sure about this. Alicia?"

Callie stopped taking pictures and turned to him. "My name is not Alicia or Carmen," he told him. "But nice try." She tapped him on the shoulder. "Nice meeting you." She then turned to leave, but the boy wouldn't give up yet.

"Wait," he called, and jogged towards her. "How about this? I'll show you around Barcelona and in exchange, you tell me your name."

A smile crossed Callie's smile. "No, thank you. I think I can manage," she replied.

"I don't belive that," the boy said. "Tell me your next destination."

Callie opened her mouth, but ended up closing it when she couldn't think of a place in mind. She thought for a moment. She could only think of more churches and shopping. Not really ideal to tell it to this boy who were determined in getting her name.

"So, you have no idea where you're going." A big smile crossed on the boy's mouth. "I can help you with that."

"I have a list of places. I don't need help."

"Then let me take you there."

Callie let out a deep breath. "You're not going away unless I tell you my name, arent you?" She asked him.

The boy answered her with a nod.

"Fine." She gave up. "Mary. Happy now?"

"Mary?" The boy echoed. "Then who's Callie?" He pointed the keychain dangling on her bag. "Unless you stole that bag from a person named Callie, then I'll belive you're name is Mary."

Callie looked down on the keychain. She almost forgot that one. She bought that from her last trip in India and she forgot to remove it.

"So, Callie," the boy said with a mischevous smile. "That's a cute name."

Now, she felt embarrassed for lying about her name. Kids these days are really observant and can be annoying.

"So, my real name is Callie. Are you going to leave me alone now?" She said to him.

"I would," the boy replied. "But I have a feeling you don't know where you're going."

"I told you I have a list."

"Okay, then, name the next destination after here," he challenged her.

Callie quickly thought back about what the cab driver told her, and blurted out, "the beach."

"And the name of the beach?"

"It's a famous beach."

"Fair enough. Where is it located?"

"It's…" she thought hard. "It's…somewhere. I can just ask the direction."

"Or I can just take you there."

Callie let out a sigh when she saw there was no way out of the situation. "Look," she said. "I understand that you're young and your hormones are way up high. But, trust me, I'm not the person you should be hitting on. See this?" She held up hee hand with her wedding ring. "I'm married. Plus, I'm way older than you. You're like what? Eighteen? I'm thirty-year old. So…"

"I'm nineteen," he corrected her. "And I'm not hitting on you." He laughed. "I mean, you're beautiful and you're hot, but no. I have a girlfriend."

Callie was left speechless with the sudden turnout of the event. Her jaw hung and she felt her cheeks heated up. She had never felt so embarrassed like that since she was in highschool.

"I understand you're thinking like that. You probably get a lot of guys hitting on you and—"

"Then why wouldn't you stop asking my name!?" She asked him. Now, she was angry for some reason. "I was alone there and you followed around. What was that for, then, huh?"

The boy let out a chuckle, and Callie couldn't be more embarrassed. Did she just raise her tone at him because he wasn't hitting on her?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," the boy said, but he kept his smile on his lips. "I was just looking at you and you seemed unhappy with that gorgeous dress you're wearing. I thought you got stood up. I thought I'd lift you're spirit by offering a tour."

Callie stared at him. "Unhappy?" She couldn't believe it. A nineteen-year old boy, carrying his skateboard around, just called her unhappy. Not even her mom or her friends had once told her that she looked sad.

"I'm not unhappy!" she protested. "I'm married to a great guy. I have a great life. I can travel wherever I want. I can buy anything I want. I'm happy!"

"I didn't say anything." The boy held up his hand. "But the tour offer still stands. Do you want it?"

"Screw you," she said to him, and she ran down on the steps, careful not to slip and embarrassed herself more.

From behind, she could hear him laugh, and then he yelled at her, "nice meeting you, Callie!"

The moment she rolled her eyes was the moment she missed a step and it was too late for her to save herself. She twisted her ankle and fell, screaming.

She might have exaggerated out of fear. She fell five steps and she couldn't get move her left ankle without hurting.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she told the people looking at her. She even smiled to prove it.

"I don't think you're fine though," the voice of the boy spoke behind her, and his face came into her view. He squatted. "Need help?" He asked her in every teasing manner he could muster.

As much as Callie wanted to say no, she didn't much have of a choice. "Where's the nearest hospital?" She asked him.

A smile crossed the boy's lips.