.tres. 

With some level of difficulty, he managed to stumble into the lobby. He tried not to draw any attention to himself, but his head was throbbing and his eyes took a while to adjust to the dimmer light in the hotel. Some people happened to recognize him and started snapping pictures, which did nothing to concern him in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to get to his suite and hide under the covers until he could kill his hangover.

Minutes later he made it to his room and laid down on his bed, drifting off to sleep like he had done the first day he arrived in Nayarit. 

He didn't get to sleep long--merely a few hours--because his friends had been calling him on the phone. None of them had seen him since he separated from them at the party. When they got no answer, they had gone as far as calling hotel security to have his suite opened. James was startled awake then by his friends who were relieved to see him.

"What are you guys doing here?" He asked them groggily.

Stephan and Edwin were there. Behind them was Juan, still accompanied by the owner's daughter. All of them wore worried expressions on their faces. "We didn't know where you were, hermano. Donde te metiste?" Where have you been? Edwin began to scold his team mate, which was ironic considering that he was the youngest of the four at only twenty three years of age. "We were this close to calling the police." He informed James, who still was too tired to even register Edwin's words in his head.

"He's so hung over he doesn't even know what's happening." Juan commented in amusement.

"I know exactly what is happening." James countered in annoyance. The moment the words left his mouth he knew he should have just agreed with them instead, so that they could go away and leave him to sleep for the rest of the day.

But there was no way that was going to happen now.

Edwin opened parted his lips to speak up, hands on his hips like he was about to verbally kill someone. The target? James. Before he could get any words out, James brought his hands up to cover his face. "What kind of universe did I fall into that has twenty three year old kids yelling at twenty four year old men?"

Stefan scoffed from the door of the hotel suite. "He's only one year younger than you, bro."

"As punishment you have to get up right now and go down to the beach with us." Edwin informed his team mate from the Colombia national football team. As he yanked the sheets of James body--with his clothes still dampened with sea water--Edwin added, "My wife and kids want to go kayaking today and we need someone to babysit the baby. You're the lucky volunteer, so get in the shower and be down in the lobby in one hour."

Truthfully, James didn't actually mind it all that much. He had taken care of Salome hundreds of times on his own, and she was just a bit younger than Edwin's son. His only complaint was that he thought it was much too early for kayaking, and it was also much too early to take care of children when he was sporting a killer hangover. 

-

His friends had left him in his suite moments after making sure he was okay and not disappeared somewhere on the beach after the previous night's party. It took him several moments to finally push himself off his bed and get in the shower. He purposefully twisted the knob for ice cold water. His body was hot from all that time on the beach and the fluctuation after he had slept for so long. He also knew that cold showers were ideal for getting rid of hangovers.

Once he was freshly showered, he dressed in light clothes, a pair of swim trunks and a tank top with palm tree patterns on it. Then he left his room and headed down to the lobby where everyone was waiting for him.

Together, the group walked down to the beach to a booth that was near the hotel, property of Club Monterrey's owner and his family. Edwin handed off his son to James and one of the kayak trip workers began to explain to everyone--giving them a quick lesson--on how to paddle and what to do if their boat were to tip over. James zoned out every few seconds. The lesson wasn't for him since he wouldn't be participating anyway. As the group next followed behind the worker to be handed life preservers and paddles, James noticed there was someone new in the group. No doubt Juan had asked Ana Claudia to bring a friend for Stefan. Yet another rich girl who was probably after a famous footballer.

James sighed. And there he was--alone. Taking care of a baby.

Once everyone was strapped into their life vests and final details were checked, the group followed the hotel events worker down to the dock where they would get on their kayaks. James--with little Emiliano in his arms--didn't follow them. 

He instead walked to the right side of the beach, where the line of expensive hotels seemed to end and there was nothing but hot white sand for miles. As he reached the secluded beach, he saw the sign that read Playa de los Cocos. Beach of the Coconuts. James looked around, as if almost expecting a coconut to fall onto his head. But there was nothing. 

He walked a long the beach for a few moments when he saw a small hut in the distance and decided it was best to return. He was too far from the hotel now and didn't want to risk getting lost when he was supposed to be taking care of little Emiliano. 

But there was a vague familiarity in that hut, that he remembered from a dream--or a memory that felt like one.

-

He walked the twenty minutes back to the hotel and saw something that hadn't been there when he departed. There on the sand, near the booth where one could plan their kayaking trip was a sign that read Free Cumbia Dance Lessons for the Elderly (Guests ONLY), taught by someone named Marina Hernandez. 

James smiled to himself.

This should be good, he thought.

Within ten minutes, about eight people showed up for the lesson while James stood nearby with curious eyes. He was more interested in seeing what the instructor would teach them, since he wasn't sure if the elderly people who were there could actually move very freely. 

They waited for a few more minutes until someone tapped James on the shoulder. He turned to see a young woman with jet black hair, and dark brown eyes against skin that was sun kissed from all her time on the beach. The young woman wore floral print dress like many of the other female workers who were stationed at any of the activities provided, and the golden name tag had the name Marina on it. She was the dance teacher for the class.

"Hey..." She said slowly, narrowing her eyes at him slightly in recognition. "We've met before, haven't we?" She asked him.

For Marina Hernandez, remembering the man who had almost drowned on the beach the night before wasn't a difficult task when it came to remembering how the incident happened. What she couldn't remember, though, was what he looked like. It had been much too dark on the beach to take a very good look at him, but she knew he was handsome, and she knew what he looked like because she had taken his photo ID from his wallet to confirm his identity when he startled her off.

In the case of James Rodriguez, his foggy memories could not put together where he knew that girl from. But there was an air of familiarity to him in her face.

James immediately thought she would start screaming once she truly recognized him, getting the attention of everyone on the beach. He thought she would have recognized him by his games with Real Madrid, or the fact that he represented the Colombian national football team.

Still, he gave a shake of his head. "I don't think so, but I honestly wouldn't be sure. I meet so many people every day." He told her truthfully. "If you want an autograph, or a picture or something, can we just do this quick before any one else notices I'm here?" As a famous footballer, he met several people who he didn't remember very long. It was part of his career. He was always seeing new faces, only to forget them moments after interacting with them because there were so many people to meet. Reaching into an old little crotchet bag that hung from her wrist, she reached into it and retrieved a card which James later realized was his photo ID. 

Marina held it next to his face and said, "I knew I recognized you. You're that crazy drunk guy I saved from the ocean last night."

James looked at her surprised.

"So that wasn't a dream?" He asked her.

-

short update, but now that the copa america is over. i want to finish this fic as soon as possible. but atm im currently obsessing with a friend over kpop, mostly bc one of the singers is cute as hell. and i have spend the past week only watching videos of him on youtube and reading articles about him, and im even writing a fic. so if you're into kpop, pls go check it out. you absolutely dont have to.

its just a kpop adaptation of my fic 'hala madrid' bc i wanted a familiar plot to start with this new territory. 

but anyway, i hope you all like this update. it means a whole lot to see your reads and votes. have a nice weekend, and have a great independence day weekend to my american friends. two hundred and forty years of white people being free from the english people! isn't that just lovely? while the rest of us continue oppressed (not by the english tho, but by our own kind). lets all have a tea party. a boston tea party. lol

-clary xx