୧ 𝓛 ＡＭＩＮＥ ＹＡＭＡＬ ＥＢＡＮＡ

THE SUNLIGHT FLICKERED ON THE SURFACE OF THE WATER, catching in droplets that clung to your skin as you stepped out of the pool. The heat wrapped around you, heavy, humming, the kind of summer warmth that slowed the world into something dreamlike.

You moved past the row of loungers, your towel clutched loosely at your side. Laughter spilled from the boys stretched across the chairs — Gavi, Pau, Marc Bernal, Balde, and Héctor — their voices low, easy, until one of them broke away.

Lamine sat forward. His gaze was steady, sharp enough to make you stumble for half a second. He didn’t smile, not yet, just studied you like he’d already decided something. The noise around you blurred — your friends’ chatter, the splash of water, even his teammates’ teasing — all of it dulled to the thrum of your heartbeat.

And then, with the simplest movement, he held out his phone. The screen glowed with Instagram open, his hand extended toward you, the veins in the dark skin of his wrist catching the light.

“Ig, hermosa?” His voice was low, but it carried, certain, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Behind him, Gavi groaned and shoved his shoulder, Pau laughed under his breath, and Balde whistled like he couldn’t help himself. But none of that reached you — not really.

Because all you saw was Lamine, waiting.

The silence between you wasn’t empty. It pressed close, heavy with possibility, daring you to take the phone, to step into whatever this was, whatever it could be.

And for a moment, the world slowed to nothing but the heat, his eyes, and the question hanging between you.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒