The boys around him all turned to glance across the room where De la Fuente was calmly stirring sugar into his tea, eyes scanning over the front page of a Swiss newspaper.
He looked up—just briefly—and gave a small, knowing smile in their direction.
Izan sat back, smirking. "Yup. He definitely saw us."
A ripple of laughter echoed through the room, the atmosphere lighter now. Whatever tension had crept in with the morning sun had been flicked away with that gentle prod from the boss.
And somehow, it felt like it brought them even closer—because nothing screamed "team chemistry" quite like getting caught sneaking out together by your manager… and living to tell the tale.
..........
The crisp morning chill had barely lifted as the Spanish squad stepped out of their hotel, tracksuits zipped to the chin, boots slung over shoulders.
The sky above Geneva was a pale shade of blue, the kind that promised a warm midday but still bit at your cheeks in the early hours.
