Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
It’s strange to think how quickly everything has come together since Madrid, and I tell Carlos as much during our first catch-up meeting.
“Olivia!” he greets me, his face beaming from my laptop screen. “How’s everything going?”
“Really well,” I say, adjusting my seat. “The kids are great, and the staff have been really welcoming. Sarah’s left for maternity leave now, but we’ve swapped details so we can keep in touch. And I’ve even been expanding my Spanish, though it’s… well, let’s just say it’s a work in progress.”
Carlos chuckles. “It always is. There are words in English that I’m still learning. But it sounds like you’re settling in nicely.”
“I think so,” I reply. “You were right - Valencia’s so beautiful. It’s such a different pace of life, but I really like it. I’ve been exploring a lot when I’m not working, and it feels good to be somewhere new.”
“That’s what I love to hear,” Carlos smiles. “And the role itself? Have you had many challenges?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Sarah was just amazing in terms of helping me get up to speed, and now that I’m on my own with it, I kind of feel like I’ve been able to really find my feet. The headteacher even complimented one of my lessons.”
Carlos smiles warmly. “That’s great to hear. It sounds as though you’re receiving it yourself, but for what it’s worth, we’re getting very positive feedback about you. And hey, if you ever need anything - resources, advice, someone to vent to, whatever it may be - you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Carlos,” I say sincerely. “I appreciate it.”
After a few more updates, the call wraps up. As much as I’m loving my new-found independence, it feels good to also know I’m not entirely on my own.
∞∞∞
Later that afternoon, I head to a small café that I discovered last week. It’s tucked away on a quiet side street, far from the touristy bustle of Valencia’s city center.
I wanted to go somewhere peaceful to focus on planning next week’s lessons - but somewhere that I could be topped up with coffee and snacks as I went on - and this place is perfect.
Most of the customers are seated outside, but since I’m going to be here for a while, I settle into a booth by the window, spreading out my notes and opening my laptop. Sunlight streams through the large glass panes, casting warm, golden rays across the mismatched tables and chairs.
I sip my coffee and nibble on my croissant, feeling like I’ve found a little slice of heaven.
I’m deep into deciding how to make a lesson on irregular verbs remotely interesting when a deep voice pulls me out of my focus.
“Busy at work, huh?”
Shit.
I know that voice.
I glance up, not quite believing what I’m hearing.
“Santi?” I blink in surprise.
He’s standing at the edge of my booth, looking as devilishly handsome - and muscular - as ever. He’s wearing a dark baseball cap pulled low over his hair, but there’s no mistaking that grin.
“I - ah. Hi!” I say, hating the way that I stutter and stumble. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, not seeming bothered by my presence in the slightest as he leans against the edge of my booth.
“Having coffee, like a normal person. What about you?” His expression grows playfully sombre. “Don’t tell me you’re stalking me.”
I laugh, gesturing to the pile of lesson plans in front of me.
“Right. Because stalking you is definitely on my to-do list,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Clearly, I’m here for work.”
“Work, sure,” he says, sliding into the seat across from me without asking. He lifts up some of my notes and scans over them. “Seems… interesting. No wonder you didn’t even notice me when I walked in.”
“Exactly!” I say, throwing up my hands. “Which I would argue makes you the stalker, doesn’t it?”
He leans back, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“Hm. Maybe. Or maybe you’re just predictable.”
“Predictable?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
“Don’t I?” he asks.
His tone is light but his gaze is steady. I roll my eyes, trying not to let his confidence (and ridiculously handsome face) faze me.
“Santi, please - you don’t know me at all! Besides, I’m not predictable. You’re just lucky this café happens to be the perfect place to plan lessons.”
“Or maybe fate just keeps throwing us together,” he smirks.
I bark out a quick laugh before I neutralise my expression and blink at him.
“That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
“You laughed,” he points out. “So, it worked.”
I pause, giving him a mock-serious look.
“Is this what you do for fun? Charm your way into random women’s booths at cafés?”
“Not usually,” he says, smirking. “But there’s something about this English woman who keeps crossing my path. I figured I’d better find out what her deal is.”