💞 - Amara Sanchez

"Write a romantic story."

At the end of the first week of university, Matteo found himself unfocused from his introductory courses; he felt something weird was happening to him. That day, before going out of his last class. He stopped at his desk and stared at the ceiling—thoughtfully. A lack of motivation was not there but a girl's presence. An odd feeling invaded his thoughts. 

    His cellphone shook.

    "Is someone still in the French classroom? I left my phone's charger there!" read the message Matteo received. 

    "I am. I'll be here five more minutes. I got it with me, so, no worries," the guy said in the class' Whatsapp group.

    "Cool, I'll be there ASAP," the nice-looking girl called Amara answered.

Through the room's window, he saw his classmate coming at a rapid pace.    

    "Fuck! No, no, no, no, no. It can't be. It can't be," declared the boy.

The girl quickly went up the stairs and got to the room, said: "Wow, thank you, man. I owe you one."

    "There you go," said Matteo with a southern accent and in a low tone.

    "Yes, thank you so much."

    She is, she is. I have been looking at her all day long. I have to say something else, Matteo urged himself.

    "Hey, I want to tell you something. I acknowledge I know nothing about this city; however, if I can help you with something else, please, tell me. I'm Matteo; it is nice to meet you," the tin, black-haired guy uttered. His embarrassed voice mixed with unnoticeable pitching made the encounter captivating. 

    Although he had prepared that dialogue seconds before the appointment—he stopped breathing the very moment their iris met face to face. 

"Oh, thank you again! Ummm, I'm sorry, but could you repeat your name? I'm Amara, Amara Sanchez. It's good to see you're coming from a neighbor state."

    Matteo's gaze focused on her white teeth so intensely that he did not realize she had answered him. Their eyes are deep brown, her black eyebrows pair with her small-white cheeks, he thought, noticing Amara gazing at him.

    "Hello? Is someone there?" Amara asked. Her soprano tone woke Matteo up.

    "Matteo! I'm Matteo, sorry, I was..." his red face gave him away. Fortunately, the young lady interrupted him.

    "Mathieu, Mateo, Matiooou. Such a nice name. Alright, Matteo! I'll let you know if I need anything. I hope to see you tomorrow in Latin. Now, I must be leaving; my dad will pick me up at the main entrance. Are you going in that direction, too?"

    "Sure, let's go there. I'm heading home as well."

    He thought virtually everything could happen from then on. 

    How could this girl be that fascinating? Amara was so natural, humble, and straightforward—no need for makeup or expensive clothes. Her small complexity, combined with her long-gray hair and well-rounded face, completed the perfect combination. Moreover, her funny chuckle perfectly paired with her Canadian accent.

    Amara got into his father's car, winked at him, and left the entire scene in a matter of seconds. Some tiny birds were fooling around and singing on the opposite sidewalk. Could have been this day better? I don't think so, he thought.

"Amara Sanchez, you are fascinating," Matteo wrote on the first page of his notebook.

Onward...