WOSO Imagines

Balón de Oro (Aitana Bonmati)

"Tana, we have to go!" I yell. "Salma's already in the lobby."

"No em precipitis," she replies, poking her head out of our hotel bathroom. "I'm almost ready." (don't rush me)

"It's just a plane ride, love. No need to get all dolled up, you always look hot."

She crinkles her nose at me before disappearing into the bathroom once more. "Only you would be more anxious about this than those of us who are actually nominated for the award."

"I'm anxious that we aren't sticking to the schedule. We were meant to be off to the airport already."

"Relax, mamita. The ceremony is tomorrow night. Our bags are packed, and everything will be all right."

I sigh. "I should've just met you in France. You're stressing me out, man."

"Then we would've missed out on a fun night."

"I'm hoping the makeup artists can cover my hickeys. I told you not to leave them where people could see them."

Aitana finally emerges from the bathroom, a proud smirk on her face. "You're the one who chose a low-cut suit. Not my fault."

"If you could keep your mouth to yourself, it wouldn't be an issue!" I protest.

She waves a dismissive hand. "You weren't complaining last night."

"I am not getting into this with you. Are you finally ready to go?"

She nods.

"Good." I grab our bags and follow her out the door.

"There you two are. Took you long enough," Salma says as we get off the elevator. "They wanted to go up to your room to make sure you hadn't slept in or died or anything."

"Nope. Tana just needed over an hour in the bathroom to be 'camera ready,'" I tease, kissing my fiancée's cheek.

"Kris just doesn't understand the life of us celebrities," Aitana replies, sticking her tongue out at me.

"No, I don't understand why you think you need makeup when you're already the prettiest girl in the world."

"That's not possible, mamita."

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"I can't be the prettiest when you exist."

"You two are actually the worst," Salma whines, fake gagging.

"Teenagers," I chuckle, shaking my head.

One of our staffers comes through the door. "The car is here. Shall we?"

The plane is waiting for us when we pull up, as are a bunch of photographers. I hang back, letting Salma and Aitana enjoy the fuss being made over them. They deserve it. Plus, no one really cares about an off-duty physio when there are two Ballon d'Or nominees around. Aitana never can let me hide for long though.

"Mamita, come here, please," Aitana calls, gesturing me to join them on the plane's steps. "I want a picture with my lovely fiancée."

I shake my head at her, not moving from behind the swarm of paparazzi. I was idiotic to think that would work, for my girl is stubborn and strong-willed.

She climbs back down the stairs, the photographers all trying to get her attention. She ignores them, pushing through the crowd until she gets to me. "I know you're shy, but will you just humor me?" she whispers. She tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. "You're beautiful, mamita. Let me show you off."