The first time I saw Joana, she was laughing, head tilted back like the sun owed her something.
We were on the road, me and my boys, heading to some dusty classroom in the name of vacation classes. I wasn't even looking for anything. But there she was, walking with a group of girls, arms folded like she owned the road, black crocs on her feet, and eyes that could quiet a war.
"You know her?" I asked my bmf, trying to sound casual, like I hadn't just found the prettiest girl I'd ever seen walking in the middle of my afternoon.
He gave me this look, like bruh. "Yeah, she goes to my school. That's Joana."
And just like that, the clock started ticking. Not toward love,nah. Toward something messier. Something like heartbreak, but with jokes in between. Something like becoming the villain in your own story.
For the next two weeks, I said nothing.
Joana would walk past me sometimes, laughing with her friends or tossing her braids like she knew the world was watching and maybe she did. She had this effortless cool, like she was never trying too hard, but always winning anyway.
And me? I kept my distance.
Not because I wasn't interested, I was. I was in it. But something held me back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the fact that girls like her didn't usually end up with guys like me; guys who stayed quiet, kept their feelings folded up like old test papers.
So I just watched.
Not in a creepy way,at least, I hope not. I was just… awed. She was this walking paradox. Loud, but not obnoxious. Stylish, but not flashy. Beautiful, but not the kind that screamed for attention. She didn't have to scream. She whispered and somehow the whole room leaned in.
I started making excuses to pass by her group. Laugh a little louder around her. Check my phone and pretend I wasn't checking if she was looking. That kind of stupid.
And the worst part? She probably didn't even notice me.
Not yet.