Erik answered the phone while I struggled to keep calm. What the hell was going on here? My romantic history was limited to Oliver, but that didn't mean I was blind to the signals Erik was sending. Or was it just my imagination playing tricks on me?

It could be that Erik was feeling lonely and desperate for any kind of company, even mine. But I didn't want to fall into that pit of insecurities that only clouded my judgment. It was easier to pretend that everything was fine and move on.

I got up from the sofa, trying to appear normal, while checking the email that had arrived minutes before. Rubén needed to postpone our meeting for a few hours. It wasn't a problem for me, so I quickly replied that it was okay. After all, six in the evening in Spain was still a good time for me, even if it was five in the afternoon in Scotland.

—It was Anne, —Erik said, hanging up the phone and approaching the table—. She was worried about you, —he added, looking at me. His words echoed in my mind as I tried to process them.

—For me? —I asked, seeking confirmation, and he nodded.

He picked up his mobile phone, typed for a few seconds, and a notification popped up on the messaging app linked to my laptop. Erik had sent me a message, and in Spanish, how thoughtful!

"She was worried about you. She went to your house to see if you were scared of the storm and when she didn't find you there, she thought you might have been trapped on the road. She wanted to know if you were with me," the message said.

I smiled as I read it and looked up to meet his gaze. I sat down in the chair and opened the translator to type faster. I copied the English text and sent it to him.

“And what's more dangerous, you or the storm?”

I saw a smile forming on his lips as he read my response, looking at me with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

—Of course, me, —he responded with a smile, sitting back on the sofa and typing on his phone again, sending me another message.

"Now that we can communicate, I can ask you directly anything I want to know. Let's see... something spicy."

After reading the message, I felt my cheeks burning and quickly turned to face him, only to elicit a amused laugh from Erik at my obvious embarrassment. Nevertheless, he didn't stop and continued typing.

"Do you prefer spicy ramen or pesto spaghetti?" he asked this time.

I looked back at him, a mixture of amusement and disappointment dancing in my eyes, expecting something more awkward. I was beginning to understand Erik's humor; he was a big kid and somehow that was attractive to me. But I also knew how to play with innuendos.

—Spicy. Always spicy, —I replied, looking directly into his eyes with a courage I never thought I'd have.

Erik tilted his head with a smirk and typed on his phone again.

"I want to ask you something easy to understand. Do you prefer it written or with my accent that apparently you like so much?"

I swallowed, this was getting dangerous. In the end, I would regret it when I found out Erik was just joking, with no real intentions.

—I prefer your voice, —I replied, not averting my gaze from his.

Erik left his phone on the sofa and approached me in just a few steps, resting one hand on the table and the other on the chair's backrest. He looked down at me, causing a pleasant shiver to run through my body.

—Do you like my voice? —he asked softly, making it deeper than usual.

—Yes, —I could barely mumble.

—And what would you think if I told you..., —he paused, looking into my eyes—, ...that ah met ye a few years back, when ah wis at ma worst, and ah fell in love wi' yer smile and yer joy? Ah never thocht ah'd see ye again, but here ye are, richt in front o' me.

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I didn't understand most of the words he said, many of them didn't even seem to be in English, but they sounded so good that the gentle shiver I had felt earlier turned into a quake inside me.

—Sabes que no he entendido nada, —I said to him in Spanish, as a way of revenge.

—I love it when you speak in Spanish, —his words caressed the air until they reached my ears, widening my smile.

—Tell me this in Spanish, —I asked amidst laughter, amused by what was happening.

—Ehm… Me gustas en español, —he said, struggling with the pronunciation.

—Oh, eres adorable —I replied, laughing at his accent. Erik dropped his dominant and sexy posture to look at me, crossing his arms with a smile that he tried to hide under an appearance of annoyance that clearly wasn't real.

—What did I say? —he asked, confused.

—I like you in Spanish, —I responded, not entirely sure if it was translated correctly.

He made a "Yeah, more or less" face—. How would you say it? —he asked, sitting in the chair next to me.

—Me gusta cuando hablas en español, —I translated back to Spanish naturally. Erik slid a bit in his chair, putting on an exaggeratedly pleased expression, looking up at the ceiling and emitting a funny sound, like an animal growl.

—More, —he requested, and I laughed.

—¿Qué más quieres que te diga? —I asked, sticking to Spanish.

—What did you say? —he chuckled in confusion, returning to a normal posture in his seat. I rested my elbow on the table and held my head with my hand, looking at him amusedly.

—What else you want, —I ventured to translate.

—All yer smiles, yer tears and yer angers. All yer good, bad, and grey days. Ah could tell ye sae mony things... but if ye understood the way ah look at ye, ye could understand it aw.

I stayed silent, staring at him. Erik was also looking at me, as if waiting for me to respond to all those nonsensical words he had just said.

—I don’t understand you, —I sighed, shaking my head and looking away.

—I know. That's why I tell you, —he smiled, winking at me.

—This is... tricky, —I said, not very sure if "tricky" was the right word, but I decided to risk it.

—It's not. It's not my fault you don't understand me, —he replied cheerfully.

—Oh, come on, —I complained. I got up to fetch his phone from the sofa and handed it to him, eager to know what he was saying. I could see in his eyes that it was something important and I didn't want to be left wondering.

—Are you sure you want to know? —he asked, and I nodded determinedly.

He bit his lower lip and typed on his phone. Then he seemed to delete what he had written. He sighed and typed again, looking at me with narrowed eyes while my heart pounded, waiting for his message. I turned with some impatience upon hearing the notification on my computer.

"You'll have to keep improving your English, it's not something I want to tell you over a message," I read. I opened my mouth and turned, looking at him with a disgusted expression on my face.

—Come on, please, —I begged—. No puedes dejarme con esta curiosidad —I continued, in Spanish.

—Ah, ah. When you can understand me, I'll tell you, —he promised. I rolled my eyes and sighed, defeated. I was sure he wouldn't tell me.

—And what about charades? —I suggested.

It was then that I noticed Erik's cheeks turning slightly redder, it wasn't my imagination. What was he trying to tell me with that blush at my suggestion of charades?

He reached out to caress my cheek, causing my heart to skip a beat. He leaned forward and almost brushed his lips against mine. It was a dizzyingly pleasurable moment.

—We can't, —he whispered, diverting his lips at the last moment to give me a kiss on the cheek. Close to the lips, very close... but more on the cheek than on the lips— h'm itchelin' tae kiss ye sairly, but ah dinnae want tae scare ye, —he whispered, not moving his face away from mine.

I turned my head slightly to look at him directly, feeling his warm breath mingling with mine. His eyes, so close, were incredibly beautiful, filled with tiny specks of gold mixed with the intense green of his iris.

—Don't play with me,—I begged.

His hand, which had been caressing my cheek, lowered to my chin and lifted it slightly.—Never, —he whispered.