"Ahh, come on, Dad! I told you I'm not staying in Spain can you please stop i want to enjoy my trip back home. I already told you There are no schools for my courses," Aina groaned, leaning back in the truck seat, her arms crossed in exasperation.
"Ehn? What are you talking about? UPM is in Madrid, you know. It's a great school! And right here in Barcelona, UPC exists. I checked both — fantastic programs for your airplane studies i even used that Ri or what did you mom call it Something TBT (he means ChatGPT)," her father replied, sounding utterly confident.
"First off, it's Aeronautic Engineering, Dad. How—how do you even know that?" Aina's jaw dropped, half in shock, half in disbelief.
"What, you think I'm just some old, out-of-date farmer? I'd have you know, your father is in da know! I know all about your computin' stuffs, your engineerin' thingamajigs, and even that Tik-tok thing you kids do!" He wiggled his fingers like he was about to demonstrate, clearly proud of his "tech knowledge."
Aina threw her hands in the air. "OMG, Dad, please stop it! You're killing me! And no, it's not that there aren't schools for my course — it's that they aren't the schools I want."
She paused dramatically before continuing, her tone serious, almost theatrical. "I mean, I have it all planned out already. After studying—well, I plan to intern at the very best aerospace firms, right? SpaceX, NASA… maybe both. Sure, they'll fight over me, but I'll make the choice logically, based on which offers the best combination of learning, exposure, and innovation. After working there for two years, I quit — having saved enough money — and then I'll start my own consulting firm and a space engineering company. Eventually, I come back to Spain to lead the EU's space program. And for all that to happen, I need to get into MIT."
Olivia, sitting quietly in the back seat, couldn't help but smile at the tiny father-daughter spat playing out in front of her. There was something endearingly cute about the exchange, about Aina explaining her grand master plan in such detail while her father tried to keep up. Olivia turned her attention back to the window as Aina continued to talk, the cadence of her words fading into the hum of the truck.
Spain, she thought, was stunning. Words could hardly capture the vibrant beauty of it. Barcelona alone was a feast for the senses — narrow, winding streets lined with small cafes at every corner, each with the smell of freshly baked pastries and strong espresso drifting into the street. Ornate churches dotted the city, some towering like massive castles, their spires piercing the bright blue sky. Colorful shops displayed handcrafted goods, and in the plazas, fountains sparkled in the sunlight. Olivia's eyes darted from one detail to another, each new sight a postcard-perfect image she couldn't wait to explore for real, rather than just through a car window.
Another thing caught her attention: the people. Almost everyone seemed to be wearing a uniform of some sort. On closer inspection, she guessed they were jerseys, the colours, the deep blue and garnet stripes, with numbers and names printed boldly on the back. Some were different colours, lighter and more subtle. But almost every jersey had the number 10 on it, the iconic number famously worn by Messi. Olivia wondered if it was purely sports fandom, or if there was some deeper cultural significance — either way, it was striking, a reminder that this city lived and breathed football in every corner.
Aina, sitting up front in the passenger seat, waved her hands excitedly and called out, "Olivia! Olivia!"
Olivia, momentarily distracted by the view outside, quickly turned her head. "Oo, sorry, I was distracted," she said, giving a sheepish smile.
Aina shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "It's fine. It's beautiful, right?"
Olivia glanced at her friend, noticing how Aina's eyes sparkled as she looked at the scenery outside more than at her. The streets of Barcelona were alive with colors, tiny cafes spilling out onto cobblestone streets, and little markets dotting every corner. "Yeah… it really is," Olivia admitted, returning her gaze to the windows.
Aina's voice softened, carrying a nostalgic tone. "You know, the US has its charm… but this… this is just pure beautiful. When we're rested, we'll head out and explore properly starting tomorrow. I'll show you my favourite spots from when i was a kid."
Olivia's lips curved into a quiet smile. "Can't wait."
Through the front windshield, Oriol, Aina's father, glanced over at Olivia. She immediately noticed how Aina had the same warm brown eyes as her dad—strong, observant, full of life. Oriol's expression softened as he spoke. "Olivia… noticing your Spanish is really good."
Olivia laughed lightly, brushing it off. "Oo, it's okay, I'm not that great. But I grew up always hearing it. My mom's Filipino, and we had family from Zamboanga—every family gathering, my aunts and uncles would speak either Filipino or Spanish. I picked up a few words here and there. Then when Aina came along, I learned even more from her."
Oriol's eyebrows lifted, clearly impressed. "Wow, that's nice. Didn't know Filipinos still spoke Spanish."
He then turned his gaze toward Aina. "Speaking of aunts… Aina, we should be hosting yours by this weekend."
Aina, still pressing on her phone, blinked in surprise. "Ehn? Really?"
Oriol laughed warmly. "Yes, really. They both said they're coming to see you—it's been years since they did." His voice lowered slightly, carrying a tinge of melancholy. "Everyone missed you."
Aina's lips trembled slightly as she whispered, "Daddd…"
Oriol chuckled, lightening the mood. "Don't mind me. So… where was I? Ah, yes. Your Aunt Josepa should be coming by Sunday, while your Aunt Isabella and her husband will be here by Friday."
Aina laughed, a sound full of excitement and anticipation. "Oh my gosh, I can't wait! Especially Uncle David… he always used to sneak me extra desserts when no one was looking. I'd get in trouble, and he'd just wink at me. He's the best!"
Olivia grinned, listening as Aina's stories poured out. "Wow… so you really were the golden child, huh?"
Aina rolled her eyes playfully, continuing her recounting. "Absolutely. I caused so much trouble in David's restaurant. I'd blame it on his son sometimes, just to watch him squirm. He never even suspected me!"
Olivia burst into laughter, shaking her head at her friend's mischievous memories. The warmth of their conversation mingled with the sunlight streaming through the Barcelona streets, making the ride feel like a memory already being written.
Oriol laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill the car. "Speaking of your cousin… you would be shocked to see how he's doing."
Aina rolled her eyes, letting out a playful laugh. "Yeah, right… that brat is he even preparing for community college yet."
Oriol's grin widened, pride practically radiating from him. "College Ha Ha that's funny Well, that brat is already a first-team player down at the club."
Aina, sitting beside him, almost fell out of her seat, her eyes wide as she turned to look at her dad. "No way!" she exclaimed, disbelief lacing her tone.
Oriol's excitement was infectious. His hands gestured wildly as he spoke, voice rising with pride and wonder. "It's even wrong to say he made it—he's the best player on the pitch! Can you believe it? Twenty-eight goals in just 14 games! He's scored a hat-trick twice already in the champions league! I mean… the boy is unstoppable, an absolute phenomenon!"
Aina's shock slowly softened into a wide smile. She might not have been the biggest sports fan, but even she could understand the magnitude of what her father was saying. Her mind wandered for a brief moment, picturing a younger version of her cousin—flour smudged across his face, grinning like the little troublemaker he had always been. Mateo, her partner in crime, or perhaps her favorite scapegoat when she needed someone to blame her childhood mischief on.
Softly, almost reverently, she said, "He actually did it." Her voice carried so much pride that Oriol's animated storytelling seemed to settle for a moment, letting her words linger in the air.
Her father, still beaming, continued excitedly, recounting goals, assists, and match highlights, each story punctuated with laughter and incredulous shakes of his head. Aina, unable to contain her joy, just sat back with a beaming smile, soaking it all in.
After a few moments, she turned to Olivia, who looked slightly lost, confusion written all over her face. Aina, her heart still swelling with pride over her cousin's achievements, smiled and said lightly, "Oo, that's… sports stuff."
Olivia laughed softly. "I guessed as much," she replied, her curiosity piqued. "So… your cousin is a football player?"
Aina giggled, a sparkle in her eyes. "Yeah! Can you believe that? Oo, and technically, it should be soccer for you, right?"
At that, Oriol froze mid-turn, locking his gaze on Olivia with deadly seriousness. His voice dropped to a mock-threatening growl. "Young lady, I know you've been out of the country for a long time, but if you say those words in this car, I'm dropping you off right now. It's Football. Football! You hear me? Have some culture!"
Aina couldn't help but laugh, waving her hands in mock surrender. "Don't mind him. Well, over here," she emphasized with a grin, "Football…"
Oriol relaxed slightly, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you!"
Aina continued, her voice full of excitement and awe, "It's seriously huge. It's like you gather American football, basketball, tennis, baseball… and you put all the love, the excitement, the passion the fame into one sport—that's football for these guys. People think you Swifties are obsessive… you haven't met football fans!"
Olivia, hearing Aina gush about her cousin, felt a small sting of offense. After all, she was a proud Swifty herself, but she let it slide, smiling instead. "I guess that means your cousin is a big deal," she said, trying to keep her tone casual.
Aina laughed, the sound bubbling over with genuine pride. "I guess so," she replied, her eyes sparkling as she glanced out the window at the passing scenery.
The rest of the car ride settled into a comfortable rhythm. Oriol, ever the curious father, peppered both girls with questions about life in the United States. He asked Aina about school, how her courses were going, and which family members she missed the most. Then, he turned to Olivia, eyebrows raised in interest. "And you, Olivia… do you plan to continue acting, or is college in the cards?"
Olivia laughed softly, glancing out the window as she considered her answer she didnt know why music was so hard to say out loud. Meanwhile, Aina animatedly recounted tales of family, friends, and life back in Spain. As she spoke, Olivia's attention drifted to the changing scenery outside. The urban cityscape had gradually given way to rolling green fields, dotted with farms, patches of forest, and occasional quaint houses. The greenery stretched far and wide, a striking contrast to the busy streets of Barcelona they had left behind.
It didn't take long before the car slowed and came to a stop in front of what looked like a small, gothic-style cathedral home. Its architecture was ancient but elegant, adorned with pointed arches, tall narrow windows, and creeping ivy crawling along the stone walls. Sunlight caught on the stained-glass panels, casting a faint rainbow across the cobblestone driveway. It looked straight out of a telenovela, or perhaps a classic Spanish period movie, complete with a manicured garden and mossy stone pathways.
Aina stepped out, her hand lightly resting on the door as she took in the full view. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she whispered, "Wow… Aina, your home is beautiful."
Aina laughed softly, shaking her head. "You think this is beautiful? Wait until you see inside. That's when you'll really understand."
Olivia grinned, tugging at Aina's hand as they moved toward the entrance. Suddenly, she hesitated, patting at her shoulder. "Wait… my bag…"
Aina waved her off gently. "Oo, don't worry, my dad will get it. You just come on."
Olivia bit her lip, still hesitant, until Oriol leaned over from the car and gave her a reassuring shake of the head. "Go, go. Don't worry. I'll carry it up to Aina's old room where you'll be staying."
With that settled, Aina tugged Olivia forward, practically bouncing with excitement as they stepped toward the grand doors. The building seemed to welcome them with open arms—its tall, arched entrance and intricately carved woodwork hinted at centuries of history. Inside, the house smelled faintly of polished wood and blooming flowers from the garden. On one wall, Olivia noticed marks measuring height, each labeled carefully: "Mateo" and "Aina." It was a sweet, nostalgic reminder of her own childhood, bringing a small smile to her face.
They wandered further in, marveling at the wide, sunlit spaces, high ceilings, and elegant chandeliers. When they reached the foyer, Olivia couldn't contain her excitement. "This is insane! Look at this! It's like a castle!"
Aina laughed, nudging her friend lightly. "It's old… really old. This house has been in our family since the First World War. Our great-great-great-great-grandfather apparently won it in a card game with some troop members. Can you imagine?"
The girls continued gisting, teasing each other and sharing quiet laughs as they explored the foyer. The mix of old-world charm and personal history made it feel alive, as if the walls themselves were keeping secrets of generations past.
Their conversation was interrupted by a cheerful, familiar voice. "Oo, you guys are back!"
They turned to see a woman moving quickly toward them, strikingly similar to Aina, but older and more poised. Aina's eyes lit up. "Mother!" she exclaimed, rushing forward for a hug.
Her mother caught her easily, laughing softly. "Aina, you're older than this! Plus, we just saw each other two months ago!"
Aina rolled her eyes playfully, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Missed you too, Mom," she said, her tone teasing yet filled with genuine warmth.
Nora, Aina's mother, quickly moved toward Olivia, her face lighting up with a warm, almost fawning smile. "Oo, Olivia! How long has it been? You look so pretty!" she exclaimed, her hands fluttering slightly as she gestured at Olivia's hair and outfit, inspecting her like a proud aunt discovering a hidden gem. Aina, standing to the side, rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Of course…"
Olivia laughed softly, stepping forward to greet her. "Nora, it's been so long! It's so good to see you again."
Nora didn't let go immediately, her eyes scanning Olivia with motherly concern. "Are you okay, querida? Do you want some water? You must be tired from the trip…" She turned sharply toward Aina with a mock scolding tone. "And you, Aina! Why didn't you offer your friend something to drink? Hospitality, niña, hospitality!"
Olivia quickly interjected with a smile. "It's okay, Nora, really. I'm fine."
Before the conversation could continue, an older woman's voice called out sharply from the side, slicing through the chatter. "Why all the noise?" she asked, her words in a language Olivia didn't recognize—it sounded vaguely like Spanish but with a cadence she couldn't place.
Olivia was just about to ask what was happening when Aina's voice rang out across the kitchen. "Abuela!"
Aina dashed forward, launching herself into the arms of the older woman. The grandmother's face lit up instantly, smiling broadly, her words spilling in rapid, melodic phrases that Olivia couldn't understand. "Ah! Ah, kiddo, you are back!" she said, sweeping Aina up and holding her close.
Aina hugged her tightly, replying in the same language, her voice thick with emotion. "Abuela, I missed you so much!" she added, pointing playfully at her mother. "Your daughter-in-law is bullying me, Abuela!"
The three of them—grandmother, mother, and granddaughter—erupted into lively conversation, their voices overlapping in affectionate chatter. Aina squirmed happily in her grandmother's arms, while Nora playfully scolded her, both speaking rapidly in that same language. Olivia, standing slightly to the side, tilted her head, trying to catch words she recognized but failing. Still, the warmth in the room was undeniable.
Even though she couldn't understand the specifics, Olivia could see the love radiating between the three generations. Every gesture—the grandmother's gentle petting, the mother's animated expressions, Aina's excited movements—spoke of a family bound together with humor, affection, and history. The kitchen itself seemed to hum with their energy, every corner reflecting a lived-in warmth and a home steeped in love and personality.
After a moment, Aina gently wriggled free from her grandmother's embrace and turned toward Olivia with a big grin. "Olivia! This is my abuela, isn't she just the cutest?" she said, bouncing slightly on her heels. She then leaned closer to her grandmother, introducing Olivia in rapid Spanish, "Abuela, this is Olivia, my best friend, my other half!"
The grandmother's eyes softened, and she immediately opened her arms to hug Olivia. "Mi granbaby!" she exclaimed, holding Olivia tightly as she laughed along, utterly charmed, even though Olivia couldn't understand a single word she was saying. Olivia laughed too, hugging back awkwardly, delighted by the warmth and affection pouring from this tiny, animated woman.
Just as they were all laughing, a faint click and flash interrupted the moment. Olivia turned to see Nora, camera in hand, beaming as she had captured the scene. "Oo, just waving it off, querida," Nora said, smiling as she held up the camera.
...
Later that day, Olivia and Aina spent the rest of the evening settling into Aina's old bedroom. Olivia was fascinated by the details of the space—how the walls were lined with shelves filled with mementos from childhood, trophies from years past, and pictures of Aina with her cousin and friends. As they chatted, Olivia learned that Aina's grandmother had been speaking Catalan earlier—a local language that shared similarities with Spanish but was distinctly different. Olivia found it fascinating how a language could feel so familiar yet so entirely unique.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, chatter, and girl talk. The two of them arranged their room, unpacking bags, laughing at the mess of clothes, shoes, and random trinkets they had brought from the United States. They video-called Olivia's parents back home, updating them about the flight, the arrival, and how beautiful everything looked. Friends back in the States also joined the chat at different points, eager to hear about their landing and the adventures that were already beginning.
Yet, amidst the warmth and excitement, there were constant reminders of real life intruding. Aina's family would intermittently pop in to check on them, asking if they needed anything, or teasing Aina about her phone use. Meanwhile, Olivia's phone buzzed relentlessly with her agent, whose urgent texts and calls about the record label's demands punctuated the evening like an unwelcome drumbeat. Even with the chatter, the laughter, and the silly stories, a sense of responsibility lingered in the background—Olivia's career never seemed to stop calling, even across continents.
Before they knew it, night had fallen, and the whole family, along with Olivia, gathered in the dining room. The table was a sight to behold—an enormous, solid oak piece with intricate carvings that told stories of generations past. Its surface glimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier, and every seat was accented with colorful cushions embroidered with the family crest.
"Olivia, fun fact," Aina's mother, Nora, began, leaning forward slightly with a conspiratorial tone. "This dining room table wasn't part of the original house. It was added later because of a story about a man and his wife How he had built it brick by brick cause his wife wanted it its a beautiful story…"
Olivia leaned in, curious, already picturing some grand romantic tale. "Ooo, tell me!"
Aina, grinning mischievously, jumped in. "The man went on to kill his wife after suspecting her of cheating. So, I guess that's that."
Nora waved her hand dismissively, half laughing, half scolding. "Aina! That's beside the point!"
"I think its the whole point," Aina replied with a shrug and a cheeky smile, earning a quiet chuckle from Olivia.
Meanwhile, Nora's attention shifted to Oriol, who was sitting at the end of the table, his eyes glued to the television in the living room. Nora's frown deepened as she noticed he wasn't paying any attention to the dinner preparations. She gave him a pointed look, clearing her throat. "Oriol, it's dinner time. Turn off the TV."
"I'm coming, dear," Oriol called back without taking his eyes off the screen. "The program will be over soon."
Nora narrowed her eyes as she peeked toward the TV, immediately recognizing the sports channel. Of course—it was only football that could rivet her husband's attention like this. She let out an exasperated sigh.
"It doesn't matter," she muttered under her breath. "We have a guest, Oriol. Do better."
"Darling," Oriol began, still focused on the screen, "just fifteen minutes, please. It's almost over. Barca vs. Bayern is coming soon, and the club still has defensive issues."
Nora arched an eyebrow, folding her arms. "Is it the analytics, or is it you, trying to solve the club's defensive issues again?"
Just as she spoke, Oriol's voice rose with excitement, pointing at the screen. "It's Mateo, Mare! Look! It's Mateo, your grandson! Look!"
The entire dining room fell silent. Olivia, mid-bite of a traditional Spanish dish—a rich plate of paella filled with saffron-scented rice, tender seafood, and roasted peppers—paused, staring at the TV in disbelief. Aina, phone in hand, dropped it immediately, eyes wide. Even Nora, mid-conversation, hung frozen in midair, utterly captivated.
Mateo appeared on the screen, engaged in a live interview. Oriol's voice trembled with pride as he spoke rapidly. "There he is! Look at him! Isn't he magnificent?"
Aina whispered, almost breathless, "Wow… it's really him."
Her grandmother's eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to the TV. "Look at my baby! Does he look skinnier? Oriol, you should call your sister. Is he eating well?"
Oriol waved her off with a chuckle. "Mare, the camera removes a couple of pounds. Don't worry—it's just the camera."
Nora, who had momentarily stepped away, returned to the living room, her eyes still flicking toward the TV where Mateo was on screen. She pulled out her phone and opened the last message she had received from her best friend and sister-in-law, Isabella. The topic of the message was obvious even from the first few words—the picture Nora had taken earlier with Olivia, now immortalized in a text of praise. Isabella gushed about how beautiful Olivia looked, adding that she would be there by the start of the weekend. Nora responded almost immediately, laughing softly to herself as she typed: "The camera doesn't do her any justice. Hurry up and bring Mateo over—don't make them wait! we have only 1 month for this to work"
Oblivious to the scheming plans of the adults around her, Olivia's gaze drifted back to the television. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene—the familiar format of an interview setup, with chairs angled toward the camera and studio lights casting a warm glow. And there he was. Her fabled cousin. Or rather, the athlete cousin she had overheard so much about, now standing in full view, confirming every speculation she had had earlier that day. The jersey he wore—a vibrant, iconic sports jersey she had noticed in Barcelona streets just that morning—cemented the proof that it was a sports jersey.
As Olivia focused, taking in the interview, she felt her thoughts slow down, her mind fixating on details she couldn't ignore. His blond hair fell effortlessly around his face, catching the studio lights and making it seem almost ethereal. Those hazel eyes—eyes that seemed to hold both mischief and determination—met the camera as he smiled, a smile so genuine and disarming that Olivia couldn't help but lean a little closer to the screen. She noticed the subtle way he shifted in his seat, relaxed yet poised, confident but not arrogant. Every gesture, every glance, seemed to speak volumes about the person giving life to person she had been hearing about.
And in that instant, Olivia Rodrigo, the future pop star had her first thought about Mateo King.
"He's cute."
11.24 kilometres from each other
A/N
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