When you loved a guy you were sweet like an angel, drawing hearts around your names and dreaming of writing wedding vows and rocking cradles. But don't confuse kindness with naivety, you knew exactly when to hit the brakes. You didn't waste time waiting to be hurt, the first red flag, the first suspect thing he did and you kick his cute ass, bye bye.

Carlos liked being yours. You were lively, always in a good mood, ready for a party, or a marathon, or a climb, or anything, you were always smiling and on top of that sweet cake: you were sexy as hell.

You weren't complicated, all he had to do is continue to be in your good grace, or else you would change your mind quickly, because no one is more amazing at turning love into hate than you. And when that happened you changed, you didn't give a damn about the guy anymore, you told everyone that he finished his chores prematurely.

If Carlos or any guy broke your heart you would move on with your favorite athlete and shoot his shot every night.

Carlos knew this well and wasn't scared, maybe a little, deep down, but he pretended not to. One slip and he was out of your bed. You dictated the rules.

“Maybe this party will be less chaotic than the one we went to yesterday” Carlos said, putting his arms over your shoulder, one of the biggest challenges for Carlos Sainz: clubs, lots of attractive girls in one place, how can you not look?