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 throws me completely off balance.
For a long moment, nothing happens. Santi doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just watches me out of his car window with that amused expression, his gaze steady and unrelenting.
I know it sounds crazy, but I swear that it’s almost as though he’s daring me to come closer, to break the silence first.
Beside me, Sarah nudges my arm, snapping me out of whatever trance I’d fallen into.
“Who’s that?” she asks, her voice laced with curiosity as her eyes dart between me and the sports car.
The sound of her voice jolts me back to reality, and I tear my gaze away from his, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as my heart races.
“Oh,” I say, fumbling over my words, my mind scrambling for an explanation. “Just... someone I met last week,” I mumble, tugging at her arm in a desperate attempt to keep moving.
Sarah, however, is rooted to the spot, her gaze still fixed on Santi.
“He looks familiar,” she muses, her brow furrowing as she studies him more closely. “Like... really familiar. Where do you know him from?”
“I really don’t know him,” I say, lowering my voice as the sound of the car engine cuts off. My pulse quickens as I hear the faint click of the car door opening. Shit. “We just bumped into each other at a bar. Briefly. That’s it.”
Sarah gives me a sideways glance, her smile widening.
“Well, he’s cute,” she says matter-of-factly. “And from the way he’s staring at you, it’s pretty obvious he’s interested. You should go talk to him.”
“No!” I say sharply, my voice a little too high-pitched. I grab her arm again, my grip tightening. “I mean - not tonight. Let’s just go.”
But Sarah’s gaze is locked on Santi, who is now standing beside the car. He’s taller than I had remembered, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure under the streetlights.
Not that I’ve been thinking about him, or anything. Nope. Absolutely not.
Another man steps out from the passenger side. He’s shorter, with sandy hair and paler skin. They exchange a few words before Santi glances back at me, his eyes lingering.
“Seriously,” Sarah says, her grin turning teasing. “Why don’t you just go and say hi?! I can wait for a few minutes.”
“No, Sarah, I’m serious. Let’s go,” I say firmly, tugging her arm hard enough that she finally moves, though I’m careful not to jostle her precious cargo.
She must sense my awkwardness because, mercifully, she drops the subject. But as we continue down the street, she can’t help but glance back over her shoulder.
I don’t dare risk another look.
“I swear I’ve seen his face somewhere before,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “Maybe on TV or something? It’s going to drive me mad. You really don’t know who he is?”
“No idea,” I reply, my voice clipped, though my mind is racing.
I can feel the weight of Santi’s gaze lingering long after we’ve turned the corner, and the memory of his confident smile burns in my mind.
Even as Sarah chatters on about how familiar he looks, I can’t help but wonder why fate seems so intent on throwing us together. And what exactly he wants from me.
∞∞∞
Back at my apartment, I can’t shake the image of him from my mind, try as I might. The car, the smile, the way he looked at me like he knew something I didn’t…
Who is he?
And why does he seem so familiar, even to Sarah?
I give into my curiosity and reach for my phone from my nightstand to start my internet stalking.
But with so little to go on - just his first name, his general location and a vague sense of recognition - it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. No matter how many variations of “Santiago, Valencia, man” or “Santiago, Valencia, black sports car” I type, nothing relevant comes up.
With a tired sigh, I toss my phone onto the bed and accept defeat.
Maybe it’s all in Sarah’s head - baby brain, or something. Or even if he was someone of note, then maybe it’s better not to know.
After all, he’s just a random stranger. Nothing more.
Chapter Ten
The end of February sneaks upon me, and after one whole month of living here, my new life in Valencia is starting to feel…
Well, like mine.
My days are filled with a rhythm and familiar routine that I’ve come to enjoy: teaching, exploring, and finding little moments of quiet in between.
The school feels so familiar now. In some ways, it’s almost like I’ve always been here. The students are so well-behaved, though they do still giggle every time I butcher a Spanish word - especially some of the older ones. I don’t mind, though, and I use my hiccups as examples to show them how we’re all always learning, no matter our age.
It sometimes feels like an odd position to be in. After all, at twenty-five, I’m only thirteen years older than the youngest students. But still, I take my role very seriously.