Chapter One

~Xavi~


Not many people could honestly say they loved their job. But he could, in all honesty, say just that. He was incredibly lucky that his passion was backed by extraordinary talent, and an amazing team. Xavi, the central Barcelona midfielder, knew he was infinitely lucky to be a professional footballer for one of the best teams in the world.

Of course, there were sacrifices to be made for that passion. Some of his teammates loved to play, but it ended there.

He couldn’t leave the game on the field, though. It was in his house, in his mannerisms, in everything. He would go home and watch games, good or bad, analyzing it all. It was what made him the player he was.

However, it was also the reason that he had been in a doomed relationship.

Of course, he’d tried to deny it. She thought he’d change, and he thought she’d become more accepting. Neither happened, but neither refused to admit it until far later. At last they’d broken up, after years of turbulent fighting and nagging. They hadn’t kissed in over a year, much less anything else.

He shut his locker, and headed out of the locker rooms. He had finished practice for the day, and decided to go out for some fresh air.

He wandered through the streets of Barcelona, headed toward one of his favorite parks.

Most didn’t understand his need for normalcy. It was that need that kept him in such a bad relationship, and what had him cooking and cleaning. He lived for those things that most people did without thinking, their practice inexplicable yet irreplaceable to him.

He wandered into the park, and headed over to where the playground was. He enjoyed watching the children play, as it showed their innocence and unstressed thoughts.

He found, however, that his normal bench was occupied. He was wearing a hat to hopefully disguise his identity from most people. Regardless, he decided he’d try and sit, since the woman was only taking a small portion of the bench with her slim frame. She too was gazing at the children playing, a look of longing displayed rather clearly on her features. She was leaning forward, brown eyes focused on the little boy sliding down the large slide.

“Can I sit here?” he asked her, which she responded to with a nod, and the briefest of glances his way. He saw nothing in her manner that detected she recognized him. Instead, she just returned her gaze to the slide, and the little girl that was going down.

He knew that look well. It was the desire to have children, yet not having the means to do so. Whether she was physically unable, or didn’t have a spouse – she just couldn’t. And he felt for her.

He knew he wanted children. He loved kids very much, and desired to have a son to raise and teach, to make proud, and to be proud of. But Elsa hadn’t wanted kids, just another part of their relationship that was dysfunctional. He wanted marriage and children; she wanted to live comfortably without commitments.

Granted, he hadn’t necessarily wanted to marry her, retrospectively. That would’ve ended very quickly in divorce. He knew that she had cheated on him several times while he was traveling. He sighed softly, knowing he had to let it all go.

“Rough day?” the female asked, her voice rather musical. He looked over at her, and was surprised that she’d even been paying attention to him at all.

“More like a rough year,” he admitted. She nodded, in a way that seemed rather empathetic to him.

“You probably don’t want to hear about all my woes though,” he decided at last. Her head turned slightly, “It sounds like you need to get them off your chest, and I’m an impartial ear.” He was surprised by her empathetic nature, and she seemed rather easy to talk to. Although she didn’t look at him, he felt as if her attention had become focused on him almost completely, save a small sliver that remained glued to the playground.

“I was in a relationship with this girl for several years, and neither of us was happy, but my family wanted me to settle down and she wanted to be comfortable. We finally broke up, because she hated how much I loved football.”

He had to admit, it did feel nice sharing what’d been bothering him for ages.

He saw the corner of her mouth tug upward, “Sounds to me like she was there for something other than you yourself.” He sat, stunned at the insight. It’d taken her a matter of minutes to surmise something that’d been so hard for him to see and understand.

“I can understand. I was in a relationship like that as well. Only I was the one dumped, and for an even more depressing reason,” she murmured.

He was about to ask for clarification when one of the children broke away from the playground, and ran over. He was holding up a flower, and gave it to the female. “For you, Mamá!” he said proudly. She smiled, and took it from him. “Gracias, Chico,” she said softly, planting a kiss on his forehead. He grinned toothily up at her, and then ran back to the playground, and clambering up to go down the slide again.

She smiled wistfully at the flower before tucking it behind her ear.
Xavi sat, utterly confused by what had just transpired. He had been so sure that this woman would not have a child. First, she looked rather young, and the other thing was the longing on her expression. He glanced down quickly, and saw that there was no ring on her finger.

Regardless, he couldn’t help but say, “Your son is beautiful.” For the first time she turned to look at him properly, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured at last, “but he’s not my son.”

She fell quiet, her gaze shifting temporarily to the small boy, who was waiting for a turn on the swings. She then focused back on him, “He’s my little brother.” He was sure confusion was apparent on her face when she continued to elaborate for him.

“My parents died several years ago in an automobile accident, so I was left to raise my brother, Andreu, by myself. That’s why that boyfriend dumped me – he didn’t want to deal with a kid,” she said.

He was surprised, as she didn’t sound bitter. Instead, it was resignation that was in her voice, but determination.

“You raise him by yourself?” he asked. She nodded, “I have a good job here. I’m not from Barcelona, originally, but the United States. I moved here to start a new life.” His eyebrows arched in surprise, “And you speak Catalan as an American?”

She laughed fully, “My mom was from Catalonia, and I grew up speaking it. I took Spanish in school, so I’m trilingual. I teach English here to adults, so it’s good money. Andreu goes to school while I teach, and then we get out at about the same time. It worked out perfectly, so I have no complaints. He never really knew our parents, which is why I’m mom to him.” He nodded in understanding.

“Do you resent your brother at all?” he asked.

She smiled up at him, “Never – he’s all I really have left. Our relatives didn’t care after the accident, and if I didn’t, he’d be alone. But both of us are happy here, and that’s what matters.”
She smiled as the young boy came running over again. He lifted his arms up upon reaching her, and she pulled him up into her lap.

“I’m thirsty,” he declared. “I’m sure – you’ve been running around all afternoon. How about we go get some lunch,” she proposed. He nodded enthusiastically, and then looked over at him. “Are you friends with Mamá?” he asked. Xavi smiled at the young boy, and nodded, “In fact, I think I’ll treat you guys to lunch.”

The female turned around sharply, “You don’t have to do that.” He simply smiled, “I want to.”

She shot him a defeated look, realizing that she wasn’t going to win. “I’m Aina, and this is Andreu,” she introduced. “I’m Xavi,” he said, extending his hand to the little boy, how just grinned even wider.

~Luciana~

The Spanish air was warm compared to Canada, but it was a nice change. She soaked in the sun on her skin, enjoying the radiant warmth.

Few clouds were in the sky as she walked out of the airport, and toward the taxi that she spotted moments earlier as empty.

She handed the driver her address, unsure exactly of how to pronounce it, and hoped he knew where it was. He smiled at her and nodded in conformation, and pulled off the curb, and into traffic. Her eyes rested out the glass as they weaved through the historical streets, accented with modern conveniences, such as telephone booths and ATMs.

Her adoptive parents didn't quite understand her move to the new city, but they had supported it nonetheless.

The opportunity had arisen, and as impulsive as she was, she couldn't say no. Sure, she was concerned about not knowing Catalan, but had been assured many residents were also fluent in Spanish, and there were English speakers as well because of the business sector.

In her lap was her guidebook that she'd bought at the airport bookstore. She had folded down the corners of the pages of places she deemed necessary to visit. But she was determined to visit the top ten locations that were provided on a list. She scanned the attractions quickly.

Plaça Sant Jaume, Santa Maria del Pi, Montjuic Cable Car, Via Laietana, Palau de la Música, Fountain Parc Ciutadella, Park Güell, Plaça Catalunya, Catedral, and Camp Nou.

She was determined to work her way from the bottom up. Camp Nou would be her first visit.

First, however, she had to get moved in.

~Aina~

She was fairly certain that she was in some form of heaven at that moment. There was no way that she was talking to THE Xavier Hernández i Creus, a.k.a. Xavi. She most certainly was in some sort of fantasy.

But he was walking beside her, leading them to some restaurant for lunch. Why? Because he wanted to.

He was a peculiar man, she was learning, finding enjoyment in the smallest things. He talked about cooking as if it were as exciting as skydiving, and cleaning as if it were a ritual he was drawn to with an irresistible, magnetic force.

But despite his enigmatic tendencies, he was very kind to Andreu, who was looking at the grown man in an awe.

Never before had he looked at a male figure in such a light.

He had never gotten to know his father, or mother for that fact. When Andreu was born, he'd been premature, and forced to stay in the hospital for observation the first few days. She had been in college at the time, nearing graduation. In fact, it was days away from her walk across the stage.

Her parents had been driving to pick him up from the hospital when a drunk driver had t-boned the car, which was then wrapped around a telephone pole.

When the ambulance and police arrived on the scene, the car was still spinning.

Neither had survived the crash.

Her father had been impaled on the steering wheel column, and her mother took fatal blunt force trauma to the head. She didn't even learn of the accident until the next day, and had to leave campus to arrange the funeral and decide what was going to happen to Andreu.

She had considered putting him into the adoption system, but held back after meeting him for the first time.

He was the only gift that'd come out of the death of her parents, and she wasn't going to throw him away. So instead she graduated, and took him into legal custody.

It wasn't as if any relatives were going to take him. All of her aunts and uncles refused immediately, and the grandparents didn't want such a responsibility at their age. So it came down to her.

By that time she was sick of the United States - the policies, the judgments, and the people. So she had decided, as she'd told Xavi, to go either to England or to Spain. She started off in Barcelona, and had never left. That had been over three years ago, and she was content.

"Well, here's the place," Xavi said, gesturing to the small restaurant.

She was both surprised and not by the place. She was surprised at first by the normalcy of it, but after reflecting on what she'd learned of him, she was no longer. It suited him, and his need for simplicity and ordinary.

Andreu was excited to try a new place, and eagerly led the way in, looking around curiously.

"Is this alright?" Xavi asked as they looked over the menus. "It's great," she said, noticing there were several things that her brother would eat on the menu. "Andreu, what do you want?" she asked the little boy. "I want a chicken tapa!" he decided. She smiled and nodded, "They have those."

She then scanned the menu for herself, deciding on the chicken paella, and ordered for both of them. Xavi got a beef dish for himself.

They then fell into a comfortable conversation as they waited for their meals, Andreu coloring one of the sheets provided for children, scribbling in blues and reds all over the paper carelessly. Aina smiled as he drew the semblance of the Barça crest, and gazed at it fondly.

She wasn't sure if she would've lasted, had it not been for meeting other culés.

It was her second month in Barcelona, and while she had a job and daycare set up, she was struggling to get over the death of her parents and the breakup with her longtime boyfriend.

She'd met Catarina, a Catalan woman, at Camp Nou, and by the end of the game, they had become close friends. She had just gone through a divorce, so they felt for each other.

But beyond that, it gave her a reason to connect with people, male or female, minority or not, foreigner or native, rich or poor. They all had a common passion, and a common interest. Thousands of people united on a weekly basis to cheer on the same eleven players on the pitch. Whether they were Messi or Ronaldinho fans, they gathered regardless.

Looking at the man across the table, he was a part of that. And despite her nervousness, she knew she could talk with him.

They had at least one commonality, and that was a starting point.





Dani will come in next chapter~