Their bus rolled through the night with headlights painting streaks across the quiet León streets. But inside, the energy was far from calm. The América boys were buzzing, shouting, laughing and replaying moments like kids after recess.
"Hey, Lucho," Ricky called out with a grin, twisting in his seat. "You gonna talk about that nutmeg or should I?" Everyone burst into laughter.
"No manches!" Charlie said, clutching his stomach. "Enzo put that ball through your legs like you weren't even there!"
Lucho rolled his eyes, smirking. "Whatever, I recovered from it two seconds later."
Toro let out a booming laugh. "Yeah, after he embarrassed your whole bloodline." Even Coach Herrera up front couldn't help chuckling under his breath.
"Let's talk about Santi though," said Ochoa, leaning forward from his seat. "Did you all see the rainbow flick? Then the Maradona turn in the second half? Man was playing FIFA Street out there."
Ricky nodded. "I thought the kid was gonna break the laws of physics."
Santi, as his cheeks flushed shook his head with a grin. "It just kinda happened."
"Don't play humble now," Solano said from behind him. "You're the reason we're in the semis."
"Correction," added Diego, pointing toward the front of the bus, "Ramírez is the reason we're not out."
The team broke into a chant again. "Ramírez! Ramírez!"
The keeper waved them off, half-laughing, half-exhausted. "Nah, man. You all made it happen. I just did my job."
Toro flexed his arm. "I made it happen too. That guy bounced off me in the 70th like a pinball."
"Bro, you're a fridge with legs," said Charlie. "That dude's still flying somewhere over British Columbia."
"Speaking of flying," Ochoa added, tapping the window, "I'm still the top scorer, right? Four goals in the tournament?"
"For now," Valdez chimed in.
"But if we face Chivas… oh man. I'm bagging two," Ochoa uttered.
"I hope we face Chivas," Lucho said, suddenly serious. "Palmeiras is no joke. But beating Chivas in a semi? That's the dream."
"Chivas or not, they're not ready for this team," Ricky said. "Not for us."
Santi leaned his head back on the window, soaking it all in the banter, the noise and the joy. This was his family. And tonight, they were unstoppable.
By the time they reached the hotel, most of the boys were winding down.
"Showers or food, pick your priorities," Felipe joked as they entered the lobby.
Charlie didn't hesitate. "Food, obviously. You think magic footwork runs on air?"
Toro followed close behind. "If they have tacos, I'm eating ten."
In their rooms, some players threw themselves on beds and others started showers immediately. The hallway filled with the sounds of running water, laughter and someone (probably Charlie) playing music on a speaker.
Santi took a quick shower, towel slung around his neck as he padded barefoot to the snack area. He grabbed a banana and a small protein shake, then flopped onto a couch where Solano was sitting, reading something on his tablet.
"You're glowing," Felipe said without looking up.
Santi grinned, peeling the banana. "Just happy."
"You should be. You're getting more decisive out there. More… fearless."
Santi shrugged. "It helps when the team's clicking like this. Everyone's locked in."
Felipe turned to face him. "Yeah. But not everyone's doing what you're doing. That flick? The Maradona spin? Not just skill but that's confidence."
Santi chewed slowly, thinking. "Feels like I'm finally playing my game."
Felipe nodded. "Good. Because if it is Chivas, you'll need all of it."
Santi smirked. "Let's hope it is."
Felipe raised a brow. "Why?"
"Because I want to beat them bad."
Santi finished his banana, the protein shake was already half gone. Felipe was sipping his coffee quietly beside him.
"You're more relaxed," He said suddenly. "It shows."
Santi glanced at him, surprised. "Really?"
Felipe nodded. "When you first got here, it was all business. Always serious. Head down, eyes sharp. Like you were trying to prove something every second."
Santi shrugged. "Wasn't I?"
"You were," Felipe agreed. "But now… you're playing with joy. You're not just surviving but you're belonging."
Santi smiled, and for the first time, he didn't try to deflect it. "Feels like that too."
Felipe nudged him with his elbow. "You've earned it."
Charlie came in from the hallway, "You wanna join us for swimming?"
"Yeah. I guess," he replied.
Still exhausted from the match, Santi joined them at the poolside. Some of the boys had already gone to bed.
Steam rose from the surface of the heated hotel pool, curling into the cool night air. A few of the boys were already in, lounging in the shallow end or floating on their backs. Lucho, Ricky, Valdez and Diego were cracking jokes and talking about what they'd do if they won the tournament.
Santi slipped into the water, the warmth relaxing every muscle in his body. He floated for a moment with eyes closed, letting it all soak in the win, the praise and the rhythm of this new life.
He wasn't used to this part. He used to train, play and train again. No distractions. No chilling by pools or laughing over video games. But now… He drifted over to Ochoa and Solano, who were leaned up against the side, voices low.
"You guys thinking ahead?" Santi asked.
Ochoa raised an eyebrow. "To Chivas? Always."
"They're beatable," Solano added. "But we have to be sharper. No early mistakes."
Ricky floated by. "Let's beat whoever first and look good doing it."
Santi laughed, leaning back against the pool wall. For the first time since joining Club América, he didn't feel like he was chasing something. He felt like he was in it. A part of the rhythm. A part of the team.
And more than ever… he believed they could win.
After a while, they headed back to their rooms. The lights in Room 207 were dimmed, the city glow leaking through the curtains and painting soft gold lines on the carpet. Santi walked in with another protein shake half-finished, towel around his shoulders, feeling that perfect kind of tired, the kind that only came after a match that meant something.
Toro was already stretched out across the bed closest to the window, shirtless and legs spread like he owned the place. "You see the buffet downstairs?" he said, hands behind his head. "I told you they had birria tacos."
Solano was seated on the edge of the other bed, already in a fresh América training tee, scrolling through his phone with headphones in. "You ate like six," he said without looking up.
"Seven," Toro corrected proudly.
Santi chuckled and dropped onto the rollaway bed between them. "I don't know how you're not dead tired."
Toro grinned. "My body's a machine, bro."
"More like a bulldozer," Solano muttered, pulling one earbud out.
Toro sat up, suddenly serious. "Hey, Solano. Tell the truth. That Vancouver striker who tried to get past me, was he crying?"
"He was," Santi confirmed with a grin. "I saw it." The room erupted in laughter.
There was a pause, the kind that settles after a good laugh and Santi let the silence stretch. The cool air, the distant traffic outside and the buzz of victory still pulsing in the background, it all felt right.
"You think it'll be Chivas?" Toro asked eventually, shifting under the blanket.
"I hope so," Santi replied, turning off the bedside lamp so only the soft hallway light under the door remained.
"I want to beat them. I want us to show them who we are," Santi muttered as he drifted off.