The Spanish Love Deception

Isabel quirked an eyebrow.

Oh shit. “Of course he has it bad, Isa.” I waved my hand. “He’s my boyfriend,” I tried to assure her, not sounding anywhere close to convincing.

So, I quickened my pace and left my big sister behind before I led her to uncover the whole farce. Thankfully, as soon

as I reached the group, Gabi was already wielding her printed schedule and trying to gather everyone closer. In a perfect circle.

Rolling my eyes at that, I watched my cousin and Wedding Cup mastermind start shouting out orders in Spanish while we all tried to ignore how Gonzalo snagged my sister from behind and engulfed her in an embrace that included more than a fair share of inappropriate groping and fondling.

“Yikes,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s my sister.”

But at the same time, something squeezed in my chest. I realized that a small part of me observed the public display of affection with something that felt a lot like longing. And that compressing sensation bothered me; it awoke a very particular set of questions I had no answers to. All of them revolving around the same thing.

Would I ever find what Gonzalo and Isabel had? Would I ever allow myself to?

Would I ever be so head over heels, crazy in love that everything else would fade to black noise?

My gaze searched for Aaron, not because I wanted him to emulate Gonzalo, but because maybe everyone else expected him to. Not spotting him anywhere in the less than perfect circle of people around Gabi, I grew a little concerned as she shot more and more instructions to the group. His head would roll if he didn’t get here ASAP.

A light touch on my arm grabbed my attention. Turning my head, I was welcomed by a pair of blue eyes that regarded me with something strange.

“Here you are,” I whispered loudly while Gabi kept going at it in the background. “I was scared for your well-being. Where did you go?”

“I’ve been right here the whole time.”

That strange quality was still there. But I brushed it away. I had no time to inspect whatever I’d thought I saw in Aaron’s eyes. Instead, I focused on how good he looked in his nylon shorts and short-sleeved henley.

“Are you having fun?” He offered me a bottle of water, pushing it gently in my direction.

“Oh, thank you.” I reached for it with both hands, managing to brush my palms along his fingers somehow. Sparks traveled all the way up my arms, making me retrieve my hands quickly and hold the bottle to my chest. “That was … sweet. Very boyfriend-like of you.” I looked up at him, finding him frowning. I didn’t give him the chance to complain. “And not too much fun, to be completely honest,” I admitted with a small pout. I had been serious when I told my sister that I was ready to call it a day. “Thank God we are about to be done here. Otherwise, I’d have to fake breaking a leg or a wrist.” I lowered my voice. “Or knocking off Gabi with something.”

“I hope we don’t get to that point.” The right side of his mouth tipped up. “What’s left then?”

“Well, Gabi saved the best for last.” I sighed. “Now comes the real competition.” I gestured with my hands, as if I were unveiling a huge surprise. “The star of the Wedding Cup: the soccer match.”

Aaron hummed, lost in thought for a short moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever played soccer.”

I perked up. “Never, ever?” I watched his head nod. A chance to win. “Like, not even once?”

“Not even once,” he answered. His mouth opened and then clamped down when Gabi hushed us in the distance.

Jesus, that woman needed to cool down. We straightened and faced away from each other.

Aaron lowered his voice, speaking from the side of his mouth, “You think that will be a problem? She seems … a little strict.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her.” I waved my hand, keeping my eyes up front. “You, on the other hand? I’d worry about getting the hang of it in time.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed Aaron glancing over at me quickly.

“And what happens if I don’t?”

My smile turned lopsided. “Then, Team Groom will lose. Miserably.”

I didn’t think that would happen, but Aaron had admitted to something he wasn’t amazing at. And that was new. I stole a quick glance in his direction; he had tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“If you end up sucking at soccer and messing up, everybody will blame you. But it’s okay; you can’t be good at everything.”

He didn’t move or say anything.