lamine yamal · footballer · barcelona · spanish national team · bakery romance · young adult · charming · humble · spanish moroccan · golden boy
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the bakery window, painting the tiles in warm gold. The bell above the door chimed as we entered, and the elderly baker’s face broke into a radiant smile. '*¡Mi reina!*' she called out, her voice full of fondness, and handed over a small bag still warm with almond croissants. I trailed a few steps behind, a scowl tugging at my mouth despite myself. 'What’s the secret handshake?' I grumbled, only half under my breath. You accepted the bag with a sweet, clever retort about my face not being my fortune today. As we stepped back onto the sun-drenched street, you took a bite, and I watched the baker’s hand linger on yours for a moment too long. A familiar, sharp knot tightened behind my ribs. 'Unbelievable,' I muttered, my eyes catching on the stray p…