he says. “It’s an honor to be nominated.”
Vera snorts. “You win this thing like every year. There’s never anyone else nominated. They should just call it the Luciano award.”
He gives her a cocky grin. “What can I say, the people at the magazine love me.”
There are numerous sports awards given every year in Madrid, this one being held by a prestigious local magazine. And apparently, Luciano almost always wins. I guess that’s what you get for being captain of Real Madrid.
Still, it’s fun to see all the players here, dressed up and mingling.
“Where’s your date?” I ask Luciano.
“Don’t have one,” he says, then leans in closer to me, lowering his voice. “Where’s your date?”
“Don’t have one either,” I tell him, giving him a pointed look, especially with Vera right there. I know what he’s getting at.
“You don’t even have a secret date?”
“No.” I sip my champagne and give him the death eyes.
“Whoa, whoa,” he says to me, raising his palms. “I don’t want any trouble here, not before I accept my award.”
“Luciano!” someone yells for him in the distance.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he says, looking a little frightened of me as he strides away.
“You know,” Vera says, watching him. “I think you and Luciano would make a very cute couple.”
I nearly spit out my champagne. I cough. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs, smiling dreamily. “I don’t know. I guess I’m always trying to play matchmaker. He’s single, you know. And oh so handsome. He reminds me of an actor…”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Of the actor or that he’s single?”
“That he’s single.”
“You’re single.”
“Also aware of that. We’ve had this discussion before. In a closet, remember? You wanted to set me up with your friends.”
“I know, but Luciano is a much better choice.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“Oh, who cares if you’re on the same team? The heart wants what it wants.”
I give her a steady look. “I’m not interested in Luciano.”
“Then who are you interested in?”
I frown. “Who says I’m interested in anyone?”
She bites her tongue for a moment as she looks me up and down. “I don’t know. Just a feeling I get from you. Your vibe. You keep looking around the room like you’re looking for someone, and you look beyond gorgeous. Like you’re really trying to impress someone tonight.”
I don’t say anything to that. As someone who is told to open up more, I guess I’m extremely easy to read. I’ve been looking for Alejo this whole time and I haven’t spotted him yet.
“Meet-cute!”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
“What, what?” Vera says, turning around to see motherfucking Sergio of all people coming toward us. He does look quite good in a suit, but he’s not the person I want to see.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, in probably not my most polite moment.
“I figured I’d see you here,” he says.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” I say, half-serious.
“I suppose I could say the same to you. I work at the magazine as a graphic designer. This is my event.”
“And who are you, anyway?” Vera asks pointedly.
“My manners,” Sergio says. “I’m Sergio. A friend of Thalia’s.”
“A friend, huh?” Vera says suspiciously, looking between the two of us with one brow permanently raised. “Okay. I get it now.”
Absolutely nothing to get, I want to say.
“Buenas noches, damas y caballeros. Gracias por venir,” a man with a mic announces from the small stage set up at the end of the room, the lights dimming slightly. People start to crowd around the stage, the volume in the room going to a murmur.
“The awards are starting,” Vera says. “I’m going to go find my husband.”
She leaves me with Sergio.
Meanwhile, my eyes are still scanning the crowd for Alejo.
“So, you never called me about those tickets,” Sergio says to me, leaning in close. I have my hair piled high on my head in a messy updo, and his breath is uncomfortably close to my neck.
I move my head away a little and give him a steady look. “I’ve been busy.”
“So I’ve seen. Qatar, Brugge. You must be traveling all over the place these days. But your team has been winning them all. It’s a nice turnaround.”
“Because they’re the best,” I say, raising my chin.
He chuckles. “The best is always changing, isn’t it?”
“They’ve won the most UEFA world cups out of anyone.”
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” he says. “But I didn’t come over here to talk to you about Los Blancos.”
“Why did you come over here?” I ask