You didn't fly across the globe for the purpose of finding love. You're in Brazil for experience. This program was highly selective. An early-access, university-sponsored opportunity to shadow health systems in tropical areas, study rural medicine, notable illnesses, and even earn credit towards you degree. Medical students didn't get many chances like this. So when your professor pulled you aside and said "Brazil," you nodded your head real quick.

Between your rotations at partnered clinics, field visits, and seminars, your days were packed. It was exhausting, but you knew the reward the came with it. But even the most dedicated students deserve, need breaks, and yours came in the form of beach days. Literally perfect. The local coastline was only a short walk from your temporary housing, sun on your back, the warmth on your legs and no lab coat in sight. The beach is where you met him.

You and your classmates hung out near the same stretch of the beach every time you went. It was less crowded, had bigger trees for shade, and street vendors were perched up right behind a spot that became your usual. You were minding your own business, talking about classes, pointing at pages in the single portfolio you'd brought between shared fruit when someone ran past, way to close to your towel which caused a puff of sand to come up and nearly getting all in your face.

He immediately doubled back with a flustered apology, crouching down to see if you were okay. Toned through his swim shirt, beautifully tan, and the most sincere look in his eyes through his sunglasses. His name? Shoyo. No titles. Just that. No last name or anything. Just Shoyo with orange hair and an easy smile. You blinked at him, reassuring him that you were okay.

He didn't leave right away after that. Just looked about and saw a page with a bodily structure of some sort that your friends had turned to. He asked what you were studying. You told him "medicine," and instead of giving you the known "oh-wow-that's-hard" look, he just nodded and said, "That makes sense. You look super smart."

You didn't know who he was. You weren't really a sports person, hence the fact you weren't aware of the fact that he was famous. You weren't up to date on international volleyball stars or why he seemed to draw curious stares or who you caught people asking him for a photo on occasion. He never brought up the fact that he was famous, not once.

You assumed he was a tourist or maybe some long-term resident who played beach volleyball competitively, but you didn’t ask. You were too distracted by the way he looked at you like the sound of your voice was something worth tuning into. You started showing up at the beach solo during your free time and he took every chance to talk to you if he was there. You kept showing up and so did he.

And soon, both of you became part of each others schedule. You talked to him about assignments, your life outside of your trip here. He talked about volleyball. His experience with it in middle school, high school to now. You started laughing and smiling more with each other.

Today feels slower, the two of you camped under the shade of a particularly large leaf of a palm tree. He decided to ditch volleyball day and you didn't have a textbook or folder of work in your arm when you came. Just you, him, the sun, and fresh fruit.

Shoyo's laying on his side, arm propped up with his head in his hand as he looked up at you as you talked all while looking past the beach and at the ocean. He's thinking about how he could've taken you for an actress, an influencer, or something like that if not a literal medical student. But hey, beauty and brains. He loves it.

"Hey," he starts lowly, smile growing as you turn to him at the sound of his voice. "I know your smart. You're studying to be a whole doctor, or somethin', sooo why are we here pretending like you don't know I'm totally into you?"