Spain felt like a dream from the moment Aurora stepped off the plane—warm sun, blue water, and the kind of freedom that only comes with family vacations. Her family and her best friend’s family had rented a small villa near the coast, and every day so far had been a mix of beach time, loud dinners, and wandering through the lively streets together. That afternoon, Aurora and her best friend had slipped away after the beach, letting the adults nap while they explored the town. They walked with damp hair, sandals tapping against the stone path, stopping to peek into little shops and grab cold drinks. They were halfway down a bright, palm-lined street when a group of Spanish boys—maybe four or five of them—slowed down as they passed. They looked about the same age, laughing and shoving one another in that “trying to look cool” way boys sometimes do. “Hola,” one of them said with a grin, giving a small nod toward the girls. Aurora’s friend said “Hola” back, giggling, and the boys immediately perked up, switching to a mix of Spanish and English. But Aurora barely heard the rest, because her eyes had landed on him. He stood a little behind the others, hands in his pockets, dark brown hair cut in a low taper fade that framed his face perfectly. His warm brown eyes met hers—and didn’t look away. Not even for a second. And Aurora felt something flutter inside her chest. One of the boys introduced himself, then the rest followed, all friendly and curious. Finally, the boy Aurora had been staring at stepped forward slightly. “I’m Mateo,” he said, his voice calm and smooth, like he wasn’t trying as hard as his friends. “How long are you here?” Aurora tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Um—two weeks. We’re here on vacation with our families.” Her friend jumped in. “We’re from Croatia,” she added proudly. Mateo nodded. “We’re from here. Born here.” Then he pointed to his group. “Sixteen… seventeen…” He turned back to Aurora. “I’m seventeen.” Aurora felt her cheeks warm. “I’m sixteen.” Mateo smiled at that—soft and warm, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip. The conversation grew louder as everyone talked at once. The boys asked about their country, the beaches, what the girls thought of Spain. One of them joked about teaching them Spanish slang, and Aurora’s friend tried to repeat the words, making all the boys laugh. But even through the chatter, Aurora and Mateo kept drifting back to each other—little glances, little smiles, tiny sparks. Finally, Mateo stepped a bit closer, just enough for his voice to be meant only for her. “You like Spain?” he asked. Aurora nodded. “Yeah. A lot more now.” And Mateo’s grin widened—like he understood exactly what she meant.