her I guess.
“You enjoying our making music, yes?” Leo asks.
I smile. “You guys were great.”
“Photos.” Leo points to my phone. “To me show please?”
I slide my thumb across the screen and pull up my photo albums. Leo watches as I scroll through the photos.
“Dios mío.” He digs a hand into his hair. “I look like…how do you say? Un pendejo.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “You don’t look like an asshole. You’re adorable.”
A shot of Javier appears on the screen. Then another. And another. I scroll a little faster; I didn’t realize I’d taken so many pictures of him.
“Speaking of assholes— that guy is the biggest one I know.”
I jump at the sound of Javier’s voice. I look to see him hovering at my shoulder, pointing to the picture of him on the screen. Heat returns to my face with a vengeance. I click off my phone, stuffing it in my pocket like I’ve been caught red-handed.
“Hey,” I say, running my sticky palms down the front of my jeans. “Hey, Javier. That was an amazing set.”
“We need a lot more practice,” he replies. “And a lot more songs. But I’m glad you enjoyed our little jam session. This place is unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“I can’t get over it,” I say. “It’s be yond .”
His forehead is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. The memory flashes through my mind: him ducking between my legs, my thumb wiping that sweat from his brow as my body rose to meet his mouth.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Stop .
I seriously need to stop. Hearing the monastery’s otherworldly acoustics solidified my complete and utter fascination with the place. I’ve been all over Madrid—all over Spain, thanks to a travel class required by our study abroad program—and no palace, garden, or walled city has spoken to me the way The Monastery of the Humble Royals has. I even have the goose bumps to prove it.
I’m also running out of time. In less than two months I’ll be heading back stateside, and it will be too late to find the architectural inspiration I came looking for in Spain. I need to focus on my research, not on Javier’s toe-curling oral sex skills.
Leo and the other guys trickle out a side entrance, leaving me with María Carmen and Javier.
“Really,” I say. “Thank you both for having me here today. This place is just...there are no words to describe how much I love it here. It sounds kinda cheesy, but I feel like it has so much to say—the monastery. This room. Everything.”
Javier sets his guitar case on a nearby seat and ducks into his bomber jacket, flipping up the collar before giving the brass zipper a good tug to get it going.
“It casts a spell on you, doesn’t it?” he replies. He looks up, meets my eyes. “I’m glad you were able to come, Maddie.”
I look away. That’s certainly a change of heart.
“Yes,” Carmen says. “We always enjoy welcoming new visitors.”
“So, Carmen,” Javier says. “Maddie is working on putting together some information on historical preservation for her thesis. I understand the paperwork to apply for research here is something of a bear, but I wonder if we can’t help her skirt some of that mess? Perhaps introduce her to your colleagues at the foundation, get her familiar with the work they’re doing?”
“Claro. ” Carmen meets Javier’s gaze. “I am happy to help Maddie. I’m the foundation’s youngest employee, yes?, so I don’t have very much influence. But I will see what I can do. Let me make some calls, talk to a few people.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help, María Carmen. Please, let me know if you need anything from me—I have recommendations, term papers, copies of my transcript—I’m happy to hand over any paperwork the foundation wants to see.”
Carmen finally looks at me. “I will let you know.”
“Awesome.” I say.
Javier looks at me, that weird softness in his eyes again.
“You can come here with me,”
“You enjoying our making music, yes?” Leo asks.
I smile. “You guys were great.”
“Photos.” Leo points to my phone. “To me show please?”
I slide my thumb across the screen and pull up my photo albums. Leo watches as I scroll through the photos.
“Dios mío.” He digs a hand into his hair. “I look like…how do you say? Un pendejo.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “You don’t look like an asshole. You’re adorable.”
A shot of Javier appears on the screen. Then another. And another. I scroll a little faster; I didn’t realize I’d taken so many pictures of him.
“Speaking of assholes— that guy is the biggest one I know.”
I jump at the sound of Javier’s voice. I look to see him hovering at my shoulder, pointing to the picture of him on the screen. Heat returns to my face with a vengeance. I click off my phone, stuffing it in my pocket like I’ve been caught red-handed.
“Hey,” I say, running my sticky palms down the front of my jeans. “Hey, Javier. That was an amazing set.”
“We need a lot more practice,” he replies. “And a lot more songs. But I’m glad you enjoyed our little jam session. This place is unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“I can’t get over it,” I say. “It’s be yond .”
His forehead is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. The memory flashes through my mind: him ducking between my legs, my thumb wiping that sweat from his brow as my body rose to meet his mouth.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Stop .
I seriously need to stop. Hearing the monastery’s otherworldly acoustics solidified my complete and utter fascination with the place. I’ve been all over Madrid—all over Spain, thanks to a travel class required by our study abroad program—and no palace, garden, or walled city has spoken to me the way The Monastery of the Humble Royals has. I even have the goose bumps to prove it.
I’m also running out of time. In less than two months I’ll be heading back stateside, and it will be too late to find the architectural inspiration I came looking for in Spain. I need to focus on my research, not on Javier’s toe-curling oral sex skills.
Leo and the other guys trickle out a side entrance, leaving me with María Carmen and Javier.
“Really,” I say. “Thank you both for having me here today. This place is just...there are no words to describe how much I love it here. It sounds kinda cheesy, but I feel like it has so much to say—the monastery. This room. Everything.”
Javier sets his guitar case on a nearby seat and ducks into his bomber jacket, flipping up the collar before giving the brass zipper a good tug to get it going.
“It casts a spell on you, doesn’t it?” he replies. He looks up, meets my eyes. “I’m glad you were able to come, Maddie.”
I look away. That’s certainly a change of heart.
“Yes,” Carmen says. “We always enjoy welcoming new visitors.”
“So, Carmen,” Javier says. “Maddie is working on putting together some information on historical preservation for her thesis. I understand the paperwork to apply for research here is something of a bear, but I wonder if we can’t help her skirt some of that mess? Perhaps introduce her to your colleagues at the foundation, get her familiar with the work they’re doing?”
“Claro. ” Carmen meets Javier’s gaze. “I am happy to help Maddie. I’m the foundation’s youngest employee, yes?, so I don’t have very much influence. But I will see what I can do. Let me make some calls, talk to a few people.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help, María Carmen. Please, let me know if you need anything from me—I have recommendations, term papers, copies of my transcript—I’m happy to hand over any paperwork the foundation wants to see.”
Carmen finally looks at me. “I will let you know.”
“Awesome.” I say.
Javier looks at me, that weird softness in his eyes again.
“You can come here with me,”
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