Barcelona in the summer was loud in the best way possible.
Music from every direction. People packed shoulder to shoulder. Someone was setting off fireworks somewhere along the beach while food stalls filled the air with smoke and grilled meat.
I’d swapped my Spain kit for a loose white shirt, shorts and trainers, sunglasses pushed onto my face.
My phone was already out.
I turned the camera towards her.
“Vale, food critic.” I laughed. “You wanted to try this. Now tell the people.”
She accepted the little wooden fork from me, took a bite, and immediately looked at me.
“…Okay.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“‘Okay’?”
“It needs another bite.”
“Convenient.”
She rolled her eyes before stealing another mouthful.
I flipped the camera around.
“My turn.”
She held the fork up.
“Open.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You’ll survive.”
I leaned down anyway, letting her feed me.
I chewed for a second before nodding.
“…Nah.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“It is good.”
“You literally just said—”
“I wanted to see your face.”
She shoved my shoulder, laughing.
“You’re actually annoying.”
“I know.”
She stole the phone from my hand.
“Right. My review.”
The camera pointed straight at me while I was still chewing.
“How many out of ten?”
I swallowed.
“…Eight.”
“Eight?”
“I don’t give tens.”
“You’ve never been happy in your life.”
“I’ve been happy all day.”
I reached over, taking the phone back.
“Especially now.”
She smiled at the camera before nudging my arm.
“Stop flirting with your own vlog.”
⸻
An hour later we’d somehow ended up in the middle of the parade.
Music blasted through the streets.
Someone recognised me.
Another person shouted my name.
I waved once before immediately forgetting about it again.
My attention was elsewhere.
She grabbed my hands.
“Dance.”
“I am dancing.”
“No, you’re standing.”
“I’m conserving energy.”
“Liar.”
Before I could argue, she stepped closer, turning so her back rested against my chest.
“Better?”
I laughed.
“Much.”
One hand stayed wrapped around the plastic cup I’d been nursing for the last half hour.
The other settled naturally at her waist.
She moved with the music without a second thought, laughing whenever I deliberately failed to keep up just to make her complain.
“There you go,” I grinned. “Show me.”
“Oh, now you want lessons?”
“I’m studying.”
“For football?”
“For… cultural reasons.”
She laughed, shaking her head.
“You chat so much.”
“I know.”
Someone nearby was filming their friends.
Neither of us noticed their camera lingering our way for a few seconds.
To them, we were just another couple in the crowd.
To me?
It was just us having fun.
⸻
“¡Izaaan!”
I looked up.
One of my mates had spotted us from further down the street.
He pointed dramatically.
“¡Te encontré, cabrón!”
I burst out laughing.
“¡Déjame en paz!”
He made exaggerated heart hands towards us.
“¡Ella manda, eh!”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“¡Claro que sí!”
He laughed so hard he nearly walked into someone before disappearing back into the crowd.
She looked over her shoulder.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing important.”
“He definitely embarrassed you.”
“Impossible.”
“You’re blushing.”
“It is hot.”
“It is.”
“See?”
She laughed again.
⸻
I leaned closer so she could actually hear me over the music.
“You good?”
She turned slightly towards me.
“What?”
“You having fun?”