Vull estar amb tu (I want to be with you): A Sergi Samper Fan Fic

Chapter 1

My dream had come true. I was here. On the beach in Catalunya. The bad part? I couldn’t see shit. I had put my contact lens on and didn’t bring my glasses. Sand got in my eye and the lens got lacerated so I had to take them off. I was reminded of my mom who always told me to bring a pair of glasses when I had my lens on. This sucks. I was talking to Pierre, one of our housemates at out host family’s house. He’s a French foreign exchange student of Social Sciences.

We were talking in French so I could practice and it would be easier for him to understand me. We had come down to the beach with all the students that were staying at our house. Danny (English), Janina (Russian), Tomâs (Czech) and Mary (Danish). My best friend from back home, Carlota, had stayed at the Universitat de Catalunya to finish a group project and she was pissed. I was standing with Pierre a ways away from the group as we talked and I was in my bikini, feeling completely naked even though it showed way less than the regular ones.

After about fifteen minutes of conversation, which was a little slow because of my developing French, Pierre excused himself to go look for sodas. I squinted as I thought I saw someone walking toward me from a group of people (or blotches of color, as I saw them) that were sitting not that far from us. As my view of him got clearer, I saw he smiled so I smiled back. When he was close enough that I could make out his face, I frowned. No. I’m seeing things. This is because I’m fucking blind. He couldn’t be… “Parlez-vous espagnol?” He asked, lifting his eyebrows and waiting for a response.

I thought his accent was weird so I laughed. I answered him in French: “Yes. I’m puertorrican but study languages so that’s why I was practicing my French. My first language is Spanish.” I was still breathing heavily but trying to keep it cool because it couldn’t be him. It wasn’t him. I was just partially blind. He answered in Spanish: “Ok. I understood that but as far as talking goes, that’s it for my French. I just overheard you talking and thought: ‘She does not look French.'” He chuckled and I joined him.

Pierre interrupted and handed me a soda can, leaving hurriedly as he saw I was talking to this guy that had just randomly approached me and whom by no means could be Sergi Samper. As I opened the can, he said: “I’m Sergi, by the way.” The second I opened it, the can exploded in my face and I gasped loudly as my mouth hung open. I heard my housemates laugh and Pierre stood beside them, obviously the mastermind behind the whole prank.I gave them the death stare as the soda dripped from my body. “Oh my God, are you ok?” He asked but I as I opened my eyes, I saw him trying to control his laughter.

I shook off some of the soda and answered: “Yeah. It’s just soda. And one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.” “They just pranked you. It is pretty funny.” I looked at him through the slits of my eyes and he chuckled. “Come on, we brought some paper towels.” He walked toward his group and I followed closely so as to not get lost. Carlota is never going to believe this. He stopped suddenly and I crashed into him. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just had to take off my contacts and didn’t bring my glasses and now I can’t see much.” I’m so painfully shy it’s not even funny so I look down as I say this.

“It’s ok. Here.” He says as he hands me the paper towel, standing close to me. He seems a bit shy too because he doesn’t dare dry the soda off my nearly naked body himself. I take it from him and dry myself. “Thanks.” I hand it back to him and he tosses it in a plastic bag they brought for trash. “These are my friends” he leads me toward one without touching me and I take a closer look. Bañuz. Carlota would die. She is a die-hard culé and she absolutely loves him. Too bad she had to finish that project today. It’s ridiculously ironic how I, a Madridista by heart and soul, get to meet them. “This is Miguel. That over there is Denis and that’s Carles.” I know them all. I am a huge football fan. But it’s not a secret that I’m a great admirer of the Barça B talent. Ergo the shock that four of them are right in front of me.

“Ana María. Very nice to meet you all.” I say as I wave to all of them at once. They smile, or so I think, and they keep talking amongst themselves. I look back at Sergi and he’s shifting his eyes from the sand to the horizon, standing awkwardly beside me. We could both very well die standing here because I’m even shyer than he is. “You want to walk down the beach with me?” He asks. “Sure.” I shrug. Why not? I don't think I can die of a heart attack this young. I take the opportunity to actually notice his body as he walks in front of me, his hands behind his back.

He’s wearing some short swimming trunks, the tendency in Europe. He’s tall and lean; a little gangly. He’s also currently tanned but notiaceably Caucassian and his hair is as pretty as I imagined it though in desperate need of a haircut, as I always thought. I look down at my own body because it’s my tendency to compare. I feel confident with what I see and hold my head up high as I walk with him. “So…what are you doing here in Barcelona?” “It’s always been my dream to come back. I visited when I was sixteen and fell in love with this country. Back in Puerto Rico, I started learning Catalan on top of French and Portuguese and decided to come to la Universitat as an exchange student.”

He seemed impressed as he raised his eyebrows. “Wow. So you know a little catalan?” I answered him in his language to impress him: “Yes. I could have a conversation with you right now.” He stopped cold and I didn’t expect it so I kept walking but stopped after three steps. “What?” I asked him and he switched back to castellano without warning.” “I don’t know. It’s just a shock to me that anyone outside this country has an interest for our language.” He half-smiled and I shrugged. “Believe me, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” I roll my eyes. If I had a penny for every person who told me learning catalan was stupid.

“And do you know about football?” Oh, the perilous question. I resolved it’d be better to be honest with him. Besides, we’d probably stay friends. It’s the story of my life, after all. “I do. And, before you ask, yes. I know who you are.” I was looking down as he slowed down the pace and asked: “So you know all of us?” “Yes.” I admitted shyly. “I follow the youth players very closely. I know a lot about this.” “Oh do you?” He took that as a good sign and we had a long conversation where we agreed on some things and disagreed in others. But a very enjoyable one, nonetheless. I wasn’t used to that. People admitting the faults of their own team. Especially when he plays for them.

“Where are we?” He asked suddenly as we both looked back. “I can’t see anything so you tell me.” He looked back and opened his eyes wide. “The group is really far away. You want to head back?” “Yeah.” I tried to build up the courage to ask him and the butterflies in my stomach went crazy. I said to myself: This is your chance. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. “One question, though…” I said as we started walking toward his group of friends. He looked sideways at me and I went out with it: “Why did you approach me?” He smiled and looked down, seeming to consider what to answer. “Think of the simplest reason why a guy would approach a girl like you on the beach.” A girl like me?

I considered and thought of the obvious one but didn’t dare say it out loud. “You thought I was lost?” I joked. He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Try again.” We ended up changing the subject as we reached his little camp and his friends were picking up their stuff. He went over to his bag and took out his phone. Oh my God. He wants my phone number. Idiot. He probably just wants to call someone. He came back to me and said: "I hope I’m not being forward but I'd like to continue this conversation. Would you give me your phone number?" I felt the butterflies fly up to my throat as I wrote my number in his phone.

"I'll text you." He promised as he saved the number. I just stood there awkwardly, my hands behind my back, fighting the urge to bite my lip. "See you later." He said as he smiled. I smiled back and hung my head as I always do. He turned his back to me and, before taking a third step, turned again to face me. "Oh and by the way..." He said, walking back. He added in a much lower voice and without looking me in the eye: "I approached you because I find you very attractive." He leaned down and kissed my cheek. I took in a nervous breath as he turned away quickly and almost ran towards his friends. I placed my hand on my cheek exactly where he'd kissed it and smiled giddily to myself. "Hey, Ana María! Ready to go?" Danny screamed at me. "Yeah! I'll be right there!" I screamed back as I made my way to my friends, feeling like I was floating.