Page 26 of My Spanish Love Affair

I stop on a candid shot of him in a team huddle, the sun catching the sweat on his brow as he seems to be delivering instructions to his teammates. He looks fierce and commanding - nothing like the laid-back, grinning man who bantered with me over coffee this afternoon.

My curiosity gets the better of me as I go back to the searchengine, and I click on a short video clip shared by the team’s official account. The screen fills with Santi and his teammates during a practice session, laughing and shoving each other playfully before breaking into a sprint. In another clip, he’s giving a post-match interview, his voice steady and confident as he speaks in Spanish about teamwork and strategy.

But it’s the candid moments that hit me the hardest. Santi hoisting a teammate onto his shoulders in victory, his face lit with pure joy, or the way he grins and waves at the camera during a locker room celebration.

I close the laptop and sit back, my pulse pounding in my ears.

This can’t be real.

Santi? A national sports icon? Acelebrity?

Suddenly, every moment we’ve shared feels surreal; like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life. I rub my temples, trying to reconcile the Santiago Ortiz on my laptop screen with the one who sat across from me this afternoon, teasing me about my work.

I move without thought as I reach for my phone and find Laura’s contact details. I press down on the video call button, and she answers after a few rings, her face lighting up when she sees me.

“Liv!” she says, greeting me enthusiastically. “How are you, angel? How’s Valencia?”

“Forget Valencia,” I say, holding up a hand. “You are not going to believe this.”

“What? Did you win the lottery or something?”

“No.” I pause, not quite sure where to start with this. “Do you remember me telling you about the guy I met at that bar? The one with the smile?”

“You mean the guy you couldn’t stop talking about for a week?” she asks. “Yes, of course. As if I’d forget! Did you see him again?”

“I did,” I confirm. “And I finally found out who he is. Laura - he’sfamous.”

“What do you mean, famous?” she says. “Like, influencer famous, or actual famous?”

“Actual famous,” I reply, grimacing. “He’s a rugby player. A really good one, apparently. He plays for Spain’s national team.”

Her scream of excitement nearly makes me drop the phone.

“Olivia!” she squeals. “Oh my god, I don’t believe it - you’ve been there a month and you’ve snagged yourself a Spanish sports star! This ishuge!”

“It’s not huge,” I protest. “It’s terrifying! I don’t even know what to say to him now.”

“You say, ‘take me to your rugby matches and drive me in your fancy car and let’s live happily ever after,’” Laura beams.

“Laura! It’s not like that. I didn’t know who he was, and now it just feels… weird. Like, what would he even see in me?”

Laura’s expression softens. “What?! What are you talking about? Don’t overthink this, or sell yourself short. You’re amazing, and he clearly thinks so too. Just go with it and see where it leads.”

I sigh. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Alright, alright - what’s his name?” she says. “Let’s see exactly what we’re working with, here.”

∞∞∞

The school day is a blur of lessons, conversations, and exam prep, but my mind keeps drifting.

Thinking about Santi.

It’s ridiculous, honestly. Borderline dangerous. I’ve worked too hard to build a new life here to let some fantasy about an impossibly handsome man derail everything.

And yet, no matter how much I try to focus, I can’t seem to get him out of my head.

When the bell rings to signal the end of the day, I spend an extra thirty minutes in my classroom, tidying up and organising my materials for tomorrow. It’s a small attempt to distract myself from my wandering thoughts, to shake off the distraction that is a ridiculously handsome Spanish man.

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