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)
“Exactly,” Pablo agrees. “But that’s why they’ve got such a strong chance this season.”
I glance at the pair of them out of the corner of my eye, my curiosity warring with the desire to stay unnoticed.
“Do you think they’ll win tonight?” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow at Pablo.
“With Ortiz in the zone? Absolutely. The guy’s a game-changer. I’m telling you: that trophy is ours this season.”
The admiration in their voices sends a strange mix of pride and nerves through me. I know how hard Santi has been training this week, leaving early in the mornings and coming back late. Hearing other people talk about him this way feels surreal, like a reminder of just how big his world is compared to mine.
I busy myself with grabbing a biscuit from the tin on the counter, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks.
“Hey, Olivia. You okay?” Miguel’s voice cuts through my thoughts - in English, now - and I glance up to find him watching me.
“Oh, fine,” I say quickly, offering what I hope is a convincing smile. “Just a long week.”
He nods, sympathy flashing across his face.
“Tell me about it. These kids are running me ragged.”
“Same here,” I reply, grateful for the change in topic.
But as the conversation moves on to students and exam prep, my thoughts stay with Santi.
The way Miguel and Pablo talked about him with such admiration and respect makes me realise again just how different our worlds are. To them, he’s this almost mythical figure; a star player leading his team to glory.
And to me, he’s…
Well. He’s just Santi. Normal. Natural.
Human.
It’s a strange contrast.
∞∞∞
By the time I leave my apartment to pick up my dinner, the sun is beginning to set.
It might only be Wednesday, but it’s already been a long week, and the thought of cooking feels like too much effort. So, I head to my favorite Chinese takeout spot - thankfully only a few streets away.
As I walk back with the warm bag of food in hand, I pass a lively bar tucked into the corner of one of the busier streets. Laughter and cheers spill out into the evening air, and I glance through the open door, drawn by the noise.
That’s when I see him.
The TV above the bar is showing tonight’s rugby match, and the camera zooms in on Santi mid-action. He’s covered in dirt and sweat, his dark hair damp and disheveled, rugby ball in hand as he charges down the field. I’m practically frozen on the pavement as the men inside the bar jeer loudly, stuck staring at the screen as the man I’ve been dating dives into a rough tackle against an opponent.
The bar erupts in cheers as the play unfolds, and as I stare at the screen, I can’t help but feel like an outsider looking in.
Like I’m seeing him from a perspective I wasn’t meant to.
The camera cuts to another player, and I blink, released from the strange trance I was in and realising I’ve been standing there for far too long. Tightening my grip on my bag of food, I turn and head back to my apartment, my mind racing.
∞∞∞
“You won’t believe what just happened.”
I set the takeout containers on the counter and dish out some chow mein onto a plate.
“Do tell,” Laura says through the phone.
“I was walking back from picking up dinner, and I passed this bar,” I explain, twirling a forkful of noodles. “They were showing Santi’s match on TV.”
“Oh my God,” she says, a grin clear in her voice. “Did he look hot?”
I laugh despite myself. “He was mid-tackle, covered in mud and sweat. So... yeah.”
“Lucky you,” she teases. “What’s it like seeing him like that?”
“Weird,” I admit, leaning back against the cushions. “It’s like... I know him, you know? The real him. But seeing him on TV with people cheering for him, and hearing people talking about him... It’s like he’s this whole other person.”
“Well, he kind of is,” Laura says simply. “But he’s also the guy who’s clearly crazy about you. Don’t let the TV stuff throw you off.”
I hesitate, twirling the noodles on my fork.
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, you know. His world feels so... public. And mine’s not.”
“You’re overthinking again,” she says gently. “Just focus on the fact that he’s choosing you. Not the cameras, not the fans - you.”
Her words settle over me, and I let out a slow breath.
“Yeah. You’re right,” I say quietly.
“Of course I’m right,” she says, her tone light.
“Besides, it’s such early days. I just need to enjoy this for what it is.”
“Erm, that sounds kind of ominous,” Laura says. “But I think I get what you mean. You just need to enjoy this part: don’t think too deeply about anything just yet. This part is supposed to be fun and easy.”