Falling For You

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This was originally a potential book starter, but I never got around to finishing the plot so I figured I'd just post it here :) Above was the original book cover I wanted to use if it was ever published.

Y/f/d ~ your favorite drink

───────

I instantly relax as I walk through the door, losing myself in the aroma of coffee beans, sugar and cocoa.

For a small family owned business, it has quite a few customers.

I weave through the tables and make my way over to the counter, greeting the lady behind it with a smile.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks.

I scan the menu really quick before looking back at her. "May I have your y/f/d please?"

"Of course!" She says, ringing me up on the register. "That'll be € 2.25."

I hand her the money and she prints out my receipt, handing it over.

"Your drink will be ready shortly."

I thank her and take a seat by the window, watching the cars as they drive by. I haven't lived here for long, but I'm quickly growing a love for the city.

I was born in Oaxaca, Mexico, and moved to the states when I was around 5, my parents in search of a better life for me.

I grew up playing soccer, as it's one of the most popular sports around the globe, especially in Mexico. I quickly grew a passion for the sport, and was set of becoming a starter on the Mexican national team for a while. But those dreams were quickly crushed by the boys at my school in 4th grade.

Since then, I've slowly drifted away from soccer, and lost my love for the game.

I grew a passion for helping people, and took up nursing as a possible career choice.

I graduated high school with a perfect gpa and packed my bags, ready to take on whatever the world threw at me.

And now I'm here, in the beautiful city of Barcelona, where I'm hoping to become a licensed nurse, a physical therapist to be exact. But my ultimate dream is to be a PT for a soccer club, and I'm already halfway there.

I've already sent in my application form to several clubs, and am waiting for an email back to schedule an interview.

"Y/n! Your order is ready!" A voice calls, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look up and see the barista calling me over, drink in hand.

I quickly stand up and walk over, thanking her for my drink. As I walk back to my booth, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. My heartbeat spikes, not knowing whether it's the email back from one of the clubs or just a social media notification. But before I can confirm who it was, someone bumps into me, making me spill my perfect y/f/d all over myself.

"Shit!"

The cold/hot liquid runs down my shirt and jeans, staining my clothes. I quickly set down my now half empty cup on the table next to me, not wanting to potentially spill any more.

"I'm so sorry." The boy says in English, but you can tell it's obviously not his first language.

"No it's okay, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." I say, not looking up. I grab a fistful of napkins and try soak up the drink, which has started to create a stain on my new shirt.

Out of all the colors in the damn rainbow, why did I choose to wear white?

"Here let me help...dame las servilletas por favor (give me the napkins please)." He says, turning towards his best friend, who has been standing off to the side, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

The boy kneels down to wipe up the contents that spilled on the floor and my shoes as I continue to wipe my blouse, unsuccessfully ridding of the ugly stain.

He stands up looking down at me with an apologetic look. "I am so sorry. Could I buy you another one?"

I finally look up at him and am met with pretty chocolate brown eyes. He has a couple inches on me, and his light brown curls fall messily in front of his forehead.

I'm about to decline his offer, but he quickly interrupts me.

"Por favor (please), It's the least I could do."

I sigh, "Okay, thank you."

───────

One new y/f/d later, the Spanish boy invites me to sit with him and his friend. I think he still feels bad for spilling my drink.

"Y/n." I introduce myself as we walk towards the table where a boy sits, sipping his drink and scrolling through his phone. He looks like he's in his twenties.

"Gavi," The boy says, and then gestures towards his friend, who has looked up from his screen. "And this is my friend, Pedri."

He smiles and gives me a nod as we introduce ourselves, and I slide into the booth across from them.

I'm not exactly sure why they're using English when we're literally in Spain, but maybe they just assume I don't speak it.

My suspicions are confirmed when the boy, Pedri, mutters something in Spanish to his friend.

"Te apuesto qué es madrista (I bet she's a madrista)."

I can't help but scoff, their heads shooting up towards me.

"Lo entendiste?! (You understood?!)"

"Claro qué si, ¿como té vas a pensar qué alguen esta en España y no habla español? (Of course I did, how are you going to assume someone is in Spain and doesn't speak Spanish?)"

They exchange looks, sheepish expressions crossing both of their faces.

"Lo siento (sorry)." Pedri mutters, looking down, embarrassed.

"To answer your question, no soy madrista (I'm not a madrista)." I say with a small smirk, "Couldn't go as far enough to call myself a Barcelonista either though..."

A playful smile makes its way across Gavi's face, and he grins at me.

"I'll make you one."

➽───────❥

Sorry for being kinda absent, I've fallen out of my Gavi phase and have been picking up a lot of new interests and obsessions. But that doesn't mean I'll stop writing oneshots! I just won't be as consistent as I used to.

Anyways, I hope you all liked this one! Please remember to vote and let me know what you thought of it :)

Pablo Gavi Oneshots <3Where stories live. Discover now