Page 36 of Winning Match
Bianca laughs. “Yeah. I gotta get out of this apartment and can use the fresh air. Plus, I can show you around. We can walk by the apartment I saw yesterday. I got it! And I could use a roommate if you’re in the market for one.”
“You have no idea how perfect your timing is,” I say slowly, realizing the fairy tale I spun for Grandpa’s sake contained more kernels of truth than I realized.
A window slammed shut last night but holy shit did a door swing wide open.
“Awesome! Where are you staying?”
I tell her the name of the hotel.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes?”
“That sounds great.”
We say goodbye and I disconnect the call. Walking over to my suitcase, I pull out a sundress and sneakers.
Despite the clothes belonging to me, my life no longer resembles the one I knew just yesterday. It’s strange how much can change in a short amount of time.
A new city. A new boyfriend, even if he’s fake. A new life entirely…
I dress for the afternoon, take the elevator down to the lobby, and wait for Bianca. Outside the front entrance of the hotel, a small group of people wait, their cameras poised.
Paparazzi. Holy shit, Ale wasn’t lying.
I avert my gaze and pull in a breath, trying to calm my shaky nerves.
What did I sign up for? What did I agree to?
Bianca strides into the lobby and surprises me with a café con leche.
“What’s this for?” I ask, hugging her hello.
“Just because.” She smiles. “Don’t think I’m super lame but I’m happy you’re staying.”
“Me too,” I agree, masking the pang that cuts through my chest at missing Dad. But this is the better option—for him, for the business, for all of us. “What do we do about this?” I gesture toward the paparazzi.
“Oh.” Bianca flicks a wrist. “You’ll get used to it. But don’t worry, they’ll take a few photos and we’ll be on our way.”
I blow out a breath. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she promises. “I’ll take care of it. Usually, if the guys aren’t with us, we’re not interesting enough to hold their attention.”
“Good,” I say, relieved. Then, I link my arm with hers. “Want to show me our new place?”
“Yes!” she squeals as we step into the sunshine.
Just like Bianca promised, the paparazzi take a handful of photos and ask questions, which Bianca expertly navigates before pulling me away from the hotel. But I only relax once I look over my shoulder to confirm none of the paparazzi followed us.
On the way to our new apartment, Bianca points out attractions like La Lonja de la Seda, the beautiful building that signifies the end of the silk market from the 1400s and the incredible Central Market where vendors sell everything from coffee and nuts to fresh fish and meat.
As we enter a trendy neighborhood, Bianca gushes, “This is Ruzafa. Our place is two streets away.”
I look around the funky neighborhood, the clusters of restaurants boasting various cuisines and fun coffee shops. “B, when can I move in?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Nope!” I turn my face toward the sunshine and pull in a breath. Another piece of this new, complicated puzzle clicks into place and I breathe a little bit easier.
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