Chapter Thirty-Eight
I t’s early, but the morning air is already warm against my skin as I step out of Santi’s apartment building, my heels clicking softly against the pavement.
The faint scent of fresh bread drifts through the air from the bakery on the corner, mingling with the tang of the sea that always lingers in this part of the city. The streets are coming alive as I walk past, commuters buzzing around on mopeds and the occasional bike while shopkeepers begin rolling up metal shutters and arranging their displays for the day.
But inside Santi’s penthouse, the world remains blissfully quiet.
I’d slipped out as quietly as possible, careful not to disturb him. My lovely boyfriend was sprawled out across the bed when I left, one large, muscular arm draped possessively over the space where I’d been, his features relaxed and peaceful, his breathing deep and even. The room had been bathed in the soft orange glow of sunrise filtering through the blinds, and I’d lingered for a moment, unable to resist brushing a stray curl off his forehead.
He didn’t stir, though. No, my man was completely dead to the world.
After yesterday’s phenomenal performance and the whirlwind of last night’s celebrations - the endless rounds of champagne, the music, the heartfelt toasts from his teammates and their families - he deserved to sleep in.
I, on the other hand, had work.
Oh, the glamorous life of a rugby WAG. While Santi lay tangled in the luxury of Egyptian cotton sheets, dreaming away his hard-earned victory, I was stepping into the real world; complete with exams, stressed teenagers, lesson plans and tea breaks stolen in the cramped staffroom.
As I walk through the city and towards my school, I can’t help but shake my head and marvel at how surreal my life has become. Just yesterday, I’d been standing on the pitch of a roaring stadium, kissing a handsome rugby player in front of thousands of fans (and apparently, cameras) , and now I was heading back to my classroom to chase down late homework and deal with overly chatty teenagers.
It might be a dizzying contrast, but in a way, I appreciate it. It’s nice to still have a purpose of my own that’s entirely separate and outside of Santi’s high-profile world.
Still, I can’t ignore the sound of my phone buzzing in my bag, tempting me to check what fresh madness the internet has churned out overnight. No doubt the video of our kiss is still making its rounds, dissected frame by frame by rugby fans and hopeless romantics alike.
Honestly, I’m already bracing myself for the teasing from my colleagues.
As I weave through the school gates, the usual morning chatter fills the air, but today there’s a distinct energy in the halls. I don’t realise why until I hear snippets of conversation as I pass groups of students.
“Did you see the game last night?”
“Ortiz was unreal—man of the match, easy. ”
“And did you see the video? With Miss Bennett?”
“She’s so lucky.”
“They looked so good together.”
I speed up my pace, ignoring the whispers, but when I step into the staff room, my colleagues aren’t much better.
“Morning, Olivia,” Ana says, smirking over her steaming mug of coffee. Heaven knows what time she arrives to get here so early. “Or should I say, Valencia’s most talked-about WAG?”
I groan, dropping my bag onto the nearest chair. “Don’t.”
“Oh, come on, let us have our fun,” adds Marta, scrolling through her phone. “You’re literally everywhere , Liv. Spanish media, British tabloids, social media… I mean, this is iconic .”
“It’s just because of the championship. It’ll blow over,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. “And I’m making a point of refusing to check my phone.”
Marta raises an eyebrow. “Shit, really? So you had no idea that your name is trending on Twitter right now?”
I roll my eyes and head for my classroom before they can tease me any further, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.
Throughout the morning, I do my best to focus on work. My students are in full exam season mode, their usual antics replaced with nervous energy as exams for all topics dominate their schedule.
Even though I try to keep the focus on lessons, more than a few of them sneak glances at me with barely concealed curiosity.
During my lunch break, I finally cave and check my phone.
The first message is from my mum. It’s a video attachment of Santi kissing me on the pitch.
Look at my beautiful girl! So proud of you both !
The second message is from Laura.
You and Ortiz are officially the hottest couple in sports. British press are eating this up. You’d better send me an invitation to come over when you move into his Spanish villa, aka mansion.
I snort, shaking my head. British press?
I swipe over to Safari and sure enough, a headline pops up from a UK news site.
British teacher steals the heart of Spain’s rugby superstar – Olivia Bennett and Santiago Ortiz’s championship kiss takes social media by storm!
Jesus Christ.
Biting my lip, I finally give into temptation and press play on the video.
There we are, standing in the middle of the pitch, completely oblivious to the cameras. Santi’s arm is wrapped around me, his lips moving softly against mine before he murmurs something and presses his forehead to mine.
It’s so strange to see it - to see us - in this way, in this light. Even I can’t deny it: there’s something ridiculously romantic about the way that this beautiful man looks at me.
It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
I sigh, a dreamy smile creeping onto my lips as I watch the video again, my eyes trained on him the entire time.
God, he’s beautiful. Beautiful and funny, smart, charismatic, charming… Never mind successful. How on earth did I get so lucky?!
For once, I feel as though I really don’t mind being all over the internet. It’s not just because of the fact that it’s admittedly a cute video, or that we do look quite good together. I feel better in my own mind about everything, because deep down, I know that no matter how chaotic the world outside gets, Santi always knows how to make it disappear so that it’s just him and I.
And that is what makes it all worth it.
∞∞∞
“Pack a bag, princesa. We’re leaving.”
I freeze, my fingers still holding the door handle of Santi’s penthouse.
For a second, I wonder if I’ve heard him right, but the sparkle in his green eyes tells me he’s serious.
“Leaving?” I repeat, my voice still a little hoarse from the exhaustion of a long school day.
Santi stands in front of his kitchen island, casual and unbothered as he leans back against the marble worktop. The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting warm hues of orange and pink through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him.
“You heard me. Pack a bag,” he repeats, his voice smooth, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going away for the weekend. Just you and me.”
My brows furrow, and I glance around, taking in the stillness of his beautiful apartment.
“Wait… now ?” I ask, momentarily flabbergasted. “But I just got here. And I still have work to look over -”
“Exactly. That’s why we need to go. You’ve been working so hard. Too hard. If I had it my way, you’d do nothing at all to cause you stress or worry, and I figured we could both use a break. So…” He pauses dramatically, tilting his head to one side, green eyes practically glinting with mischief. “As I said: pack a bag, princesa. We’re leaving.”
“Where are we going, exactly?” I press, though I already know the answer.
One thing I have come to quickly learn about Santiago Ortiz: this man is never one to give away too much too soon.
“Ah, the mystery,” he teases, clearly enjoying this little game. “You’ll see.”
I roll my eyes playfully, but the thought of a weekend away - no responsibilities, no stress, no endless stack of marking work, and in the company of my gorgeous boyfriend - is admittedly appealing.
Perhaps Santi’s right. I have felt like I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, and my short trip to England wasn’t much of a break away given the emotional rollercoaster I was on at the time.
“Okay, okay,” I say, setting my work bag down next to the coffee table before turning toward his bedroom. “You win. I’ll pack some things. You’re lucky you’re cute, you know.”
He laughs; an easy, low sound that has a way of making the tension in my shoulders slip away.
“I love the flattery. But seriously - pack light. We won’t be gone long.”
I glance over my shoulder to where he has followed me and is now casually leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom.
“And you’re going to leave me guessing the whole way there?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I reach into the drawer he had cleared out just for me. I begin to gather some of my clothes into a small duffle bag that I keep here for emergency purposes .
“Yes, but you’ll love it. Trust me.” His grin deepens. “You always do.”
I can’t help but smile affectionately at how easily he’s turned this into some grand adventure. Despite my best efforts to play it cool, a rush of excitement bubbles up inside me.
I’m not a spontaneous person by nature - more of a meticulous planner and extreme worrier, honestly - but there’s something irresistible about the thought of heading out on an unexpected trip with him.
I throw a few light pieces of clothing, swimwear, underwear and toiletries into the bag before I return to the living room. He’d moved from the doorway and I find him scrolling through his phone, no doubt already halfway through the task of organising our getaway.
“You’ve got the world’s worst poker face,” I say as I zip up the duffle bag and approach him.
Santi looks up at me, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not fooling me,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I know you’re up to something.”
He stands up straight, tossing his phone onto the couch and pulling me into a quick hug.
“It’s a surprise, Liv,” he says as his hands settle down to either side of my waist. “You’ll thank me later. At least, I hope you will.”
I give him a mock glare. “Hmm. I’m not so sure I trust your judgement.”
“Well, you’ll have to just wait and see,” he responds, his voice warm and teasing. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the bait I’ve thrown. “Don’t ruin the surprise. ”
“Alright. I’ll try and be patient,” I say, kissing him quickly on the lips before stepping out of his hold.
He smirks as he lets me go, watching as I take out my own phone in order to update Sarah on my whereabouts for the weekend (which are, of course, unknown). After all, the last thing I need is her thinking I’ve been kidnapped, or something.
But my smile fades slightly when I notice a few new notifications.
My heart sinks when I see the first one. It’s a photo of Santi and I kissing on the pitch, a screenshot that looks as though it was taken from a live broadcast. The headline beneath it reads, Rugby Star Santi Ortiz Shares Passionate Moment with Girlfriend Olivia Bennett After Championship Win , and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“I swear, the press is like a desperate ex. They just won’t leave me alone.”
Santi looks over at me with a raised eyebrow, noticing my sudden shift in tone.
“What’s wrong?”
I show him the article, and he leans over to take a look.
“I guess we’re going public now, huh?” he says, a little amusement creeping into his voice. “Javier’s loving all of this, by the way. He says it looks great for us both. But is it bothering you?”
“It’s not that,” I tell him. “It’s just... I don’t know. The pictures, the headlines... It’s a lot sometimes, you know? Honestly, I’m better off when I just ignore it, but sometimes the clickbait is just too tempting to resist.”
Santi pulls me close, his arm resting around my shoulders in a comforting gesture .
“I know, baby. Sometimes ignoring them is impossible. But what you can do is not take what they say so seriously. We’re living our lives, and they’re just doing what they do best. It’s not our fault they can’t resist how great we look together.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing. “You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.
“And you love it,” he grins, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Almost as much as I love you. Now, are you ready to go?”
I take a deep breath, letting the tension from the day ease away.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
Santi carries both of our bags as we step out of the penthouse and into the elevator. My heart races in anticipation and excitement as he presses the button to take us down to the basement, where his car is parked.
I don’t know where we’re going, but I know that it doesn’t matter. Wherever we are, I’m with Santi, and that’s enough.
The engine of his sleek sports car purrs to life beneath us as we slip inside, and I can feel the excitement bubbling within my chest as he heads out onto the streets. The city lights begin to fade behind us as we drive out of the bustling streets, the quiet hum of the tires on the road blending with the gentle thrum of the car’s engine.
The evening sky stretches above, shifting from soft pinks and oranges to a deeper indigo as the sun sinks lower. The sunsets in Spain are honestly incredible; so bright yet equally so soft, an utterly breathtaking canvas of colour.
With each mile, Valencia’s chaos falls further away, and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of calm - like we’re escaping into something entirely ours.
I glance over at him in the driver’s seat, and my heart practically skips a beat when he looks back at me. There’s that look in his eyes again - the one he gives me when everything feels just right, when it’s like nothing else in the world matters except us.
As he looks back out ahead, he keeps one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other reaches out for mine. His chiselled jaw is set, green eyes focused on the road ahead, but there’s that soft, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he raises my hand to his face and presses a quick kiss against the back of it.
His smile tells me everything I need to know. No words are necessary - not right now. I feel the connection between us: strong, steady and sure.
For the first time in what feels like ages, I let go of the little voice in my head that’s always questioning, always doubting. In this moment, there are no concerns about the future, no worries about what others might think or what might come next.
We’re in our own little bubble, and nothing else matters.
Totally relaxed, I lean back against the plush seat, letting the rhythm of the drive soothe me. I turn my head to the side and look over at him again, my gaze lingering on the way the light from the dashboard highlights the contours of his face, the strong set of his features, the fire in his eyes.
He’s completely in his element - seemingly confident and calm - but there’s something else there too. Something I can’t quite place, but that makes my heart race.
“What’s the surprise?” I ask, my voice light but laced with curiosity, hoping he’ll finally break and tell me.
Santi smirks, his eyes flicking to me for a split second before he focuses back on the road.
“Be patient, my love,” he says, his voice low and full of mystery. “ Trust me, it’s going to be worth the wait.”
The miles slip away, and soon we’re driving through impossibly quieter roads, the landscape changing around us. The glow of the city is replaced by the peaceful beauty of the Spanish countryside as the stars above twinkle faintly. The air feels cooler, more serene, and I roll my window fully to a close as my eyelids begin to feel heavy.
There’s something almost magical about this, though. Something that makes me want to hold on to this feeling forever.
I lean my head against the closed window, allowing my eyes to fall shut only for a moment. I sink further back into my seat and allow myself to really, truly relax, allowing the night and the journey to take me wherever it will.