Page 69 of My Spanish Love Affair

Ontome.

My breath catches as our eyes meet through the glass. He doesn’t smile, not at first, but I can see his expression from where a camera has zoomed in on his face and has him blown up on one of the large screens.

I know that he can't see me, exactly - not from so far away - but his expression softens all the same, a quiet warmth replacing the focus he’d worn just moments ago, and I feel a blush creeping up my neck.

“He’s looking at you,” Elena says beside me, her voice full of amusement. I glance at her, startled, and she laughs softly. “Oh, come on. Don’t play coy, now.”

“Oh, I - I don’t know,” I mumble, though my cheeks are burning hot.

Elena shakes her head, still smiling as she reaches out to place one of her hands against my upper arm in a comforting, gentle hold.

“Trust me, Olivia. I’ve known him his whole life, and I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”

Her words stick with me as the players return to the field for the second half. The roar of the crowd picks up again, and I find myself watching Santi even more closely, my heart swelling with pride.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Monday morning starts just like any other.

The air conditioning unit has been playing up over the last few days, so I’d opened my bedroom window during the night in an attempt to let in some cooler air, meaning I wake up to the hum of the city outside shortly before my alarm. I make myself a quick breakfast and head off to school, putting in one of my headphones and listening to music on the walk over.

My students are usually a lively bunch, but there seems to be something different in the air today.

I just can’t quite put my finger on it.

It starts off small. Little glances exchanged between the kids followed by bursts of muffled giggles. Knowing looks shared and flushed cheeks upon realising I’m looking at them.

At the start of the day, I just put it down to typical teenage behaviours. At twenty-five, I hardly consider myself to be old, yet these kids have a way of making me feel as though I’m ancient at times. Although their focus should really be on their end-of-year exams, I figure that they’re just excited about the fact that their summer holidays are quickly approaching and it’s something related to that.

But as the day goes on, the strange energy in my classroom only intensifies.

I notice that the classes are quieter than normal. Usually, the kids are shouting out and chattering amongst themselves, but today, they seem to huddle together and speak in low voices, whispering furiously and being mindful to speak in hushed tones. Others glance at me and then quickly look away, as though they’re afraid of being caught looking.

Even the usual troublemakers seem more focused on whispering with their peers than on finding ways to disrupt my lessons.

It’sbizarre, and by lunchtime, my patience is wearing thin.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I say, clapping my hands together to get the attention of my current group of fourteen year olds. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it can wait until after class.”

Although their hushed whispers and snickering dies down, I can still feel the undercurrent of something brewing.

I try to brush it off and focus on the lesson, but the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach won’t go away.

We’ve recently been practicing mock exam papers, and so I opt to have lunch in my classroom while I go through and complete my marking. It’s not ideal - usually, I prefer to eat in the communal staff lounge - but at least this way, I won’t have to do as much work at home.

Plus, I get to bask in the peace and quiet for a while.

∞∞∞

It’s during my second-to-last lesson of the day that everything finally comes to a head.

One of the boys raises his hand, which is suspicious in itself.

“Yes, Javier?” I say, my tone a little wary.

“Profe,” he begins, dragging out the word and barely suppressing a grin. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” I ask, confused.

---