Page 116 of My Spanish Love Affair

“A private box? Are you kidding me, Liv?”

“I didn’t know,” I murmur, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

Her wide-eyed grin is anything but subtle.

“You havesobeen holding out on me.”

I laugh nervously, trying to brush it off as the young man leads us through the VIP entrance and into the stadium. The corridors here are quieter, more polished - a stark contrast to the chaos of the stands.

I’m relieved to find that, for once, nobody seems to be paying us any particular attention. It’s a refreshing change from the lingering stares I’ve grown used to.

We step onto an elevator before we make our way over towards where the private boxes are located. The journey is brief all-in-all, but Sarah spends every second of it peppering me with questions.

“So, do you sit up here often? Is this, like, his usual thing? Are we going to be surrounded by celebrities?”

“Sarah, calm down,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I have no idea. I’ve only ever been here once, and I was sat in the friendsand family box that time. This is just... Santi being extra, I guess.”

“Extra?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Liv, this isn’t extra. This isiconic.”

When the attendant opens the door to one of the smaller private suites, Sarah practically bursts with excitement.

The box is sleek and modern, with a wall of glass offering an uninterrupted view of the pitch. Plush leather seats line the front row, and behind them, there’s a small but fully stocked bar with an assortment of drinks and snacks.

The space is intimate, yet it feels luxurious, like something out of a movie.

“Holy... Liv, this is insane,” Sarah says, her voice hushed with awe as she takes it all in.

I can’t help but smile as I glance around. Itisimpressive, but it’s also undeniably Santi.

Thoughtful, generous, and just a little bit over the top.

“Well,” Sarah continues, dropping into one of the cushioned seats and stretching out like she owns the place, “I’m officially jealous. And I think I love your boyfriend.”

I laugh, settling into the seat beside her.

“It’s just Santi’s world, you know? Besides, I didn’t know for sure he’d be doing this. I didn’t want to assume.”

She shakes her head, still in disbelief.

“Liv, if this is ‘just Santi’s world,’ you need to let me visit more often.”

As the stadium begins to fill, the energy in the air becomes almost tangible. Even through the glass, the roar of the crowd and the rhythmic chanting of the fans sends a thrill down myspine. Sarah is practically bouncing in her seat, the team scarf draped over her shoulders as she waves it enthusiastically.

“This is insane,” she says again, her eyes glued to the pitch as the players start to jog out for their warm-up. “Look! There he is!”

My eyes immediately find Santi, his figure unmistakable even from a distance. He moves with an effortless confidence, his presence commanding and magnetic.

“He’s so...,” Sarah trails off, searching for the right word.

“Mesmerising?” I offer, unable to tear my gaze away.

“Yes! That’s it. Liv, I totally get it now. Not that I didn’t before, but he’s... he’s really something.”

The match begins with an explosive energy that leaves no room for distraction.

Every pass, every tackle, every near miss has the crowd on the edge of their seats. Sarah and I are no exception, leaning forward in unison as the action unfolds.

When Santi breaks through the opposition’s defense and scores a try, the stadium erupts. The noise is deafening, the cheers vibrating through the glass as fans leap to their feet in celebration.

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