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)
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“Are you sure?” he presses, his voice friendly, but there’s a hint of insistence. “One more won’t hurt. My treat.”
“I’m good,” I repeat, a little firmer this time, lifting my glass as proof. “Still working on this one.”
He chuckles, tilting his head as if trying to charm me.
“Alright, fair enough. What about a dance, then? Just one song?”
Ugh. This guy will not take a hint.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’m still catching my breath from karaoke.”
“Come on,” he presses, his smile unwavering. “It’s just one dance. You seem like the most fun person in this room. You can’t leave me hanging.”
Something in his tone makes me shift uncomfortably. It’s not aggressive, but there’s a persistence that feels too much.
“I appreciate it,” I say, keeping my voice steady but firm. “But I’m not really in the mood to dance.”
“Why not?” he asks, leaning in slightly. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines.”
I take a step back, forcing a small smile.
“I’m just here to have fun with my friends tonight. Thanks, though.”
He hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to hearing no, but finally shrugs, his smile turning sheepish.
“Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
As he walks away, I exhale softly, my shoulders relaxing.
Camila sidles up beside me, raising an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”
“Not exactly,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Some guys don’t know when to quit.”
“Good for you,” she says, clinking her glass against mine. “I can tell that he wasn’t your type, anyway.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t even have a type anymore. I’ve sworn off men!”
Camila smirks knowingly. “You keep telling yourself that, Liv.”
Despite her teasing, I can’t help but smile. For all her drama and flair, she always knows how to make me feel lighter.
The night continues, the group’s energy never wavering as we laugh and joke like nothing else in the world matters.
It’s a reminder of how much I needed this.
Chapter Four
Spending the last few days soaking in the energy of Madrid has been wonderful.
But despite it, there’s been a nagging thought that I can’t shake:
I didn’t come all this way just to wander aimlessly.
Although my roommates seem content to take a more relaxed approach to their travels, I need a plan. Something solid to anchor this fresh start.
Teaching English has been in the back of my mind since the moment I booked my flight. I’d spent some time researching it, making sure I ticked all of the essential criteria. It seems like a practical way to settle in Spain while also doing something meaningful; plus, it means I’ll have work experience that I can put on my CV when I return home.
After some late-night googling (and encouragement from Sofía at the hostel), I’ve booked a meeting with a large Teaching English as a Foreign Language agency. Now, as I walk toward their office, a combination of nerves and excitement twists in my stomach.
The office of the TEFL agency is nestled in a narrow street not far from Puerta del Sol. The polished brass sign on the door reads Global Connections, and as I push it open, the soft chime of a bell announces my arrival.
Inside, the space is bright and welcoming, with shelves full of books lining the walls and a cheerful receptionist who greets me with a warm smile.
“Olivia Bennett?” she asks, glancing at her schedule.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Great! Please have a seat. Carlos will be with you shortly.”
I sit in a plush chair by the window, fiddling nervously with the strap of my bag. I run my fingers through my blonde hair, trying to calm my nerves.
I don’t have to wait too long before a man who looks to be in his early forties emerges from a nearby office. He has neatly combed dark hair and glasses perched on his nose, and an overall easy demeanor.
“Olivia?” he says, extending a hand. I nod. “I’m Carlos Díaz. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I reply, shaking his hand and following him into the office.
Carlos’ office is tidy, with framed certificates on the wall and a large desk stacked neatly with papers. He gestures for me to sit across from him and offers me a glass of water.
“So,” he begins, folding his hands on the desk, “you’re interested in teaching English here in Spain?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound confident despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. “I completed my online TEFL certification, and I’m really keen to get started.”
Carlos nods approvingly. “That’s great to hear,” he smiles. “There’s always demand for English teachers, especially from native speakers like yourself. But I have to be honest with you: Madrid is a competitive market. It’s saturated with teachers who have a lot of experience.”
“Ah.”
“Listen; if you don’t have any flexibility whatsoever, then I’m not saying it’s impossible. But I am saying that if you’re open to exploring other options - other cities - then you’ll have better luck finding a good deal.”