"So, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me..." Yara grinned, swinging the door open and stepping inside first, her jean shorts and cropped green hoodie showing off her effortless confidence. "You just need to give Brazil a chance, okay? Quit being such a gringo about it." She shot you a playful smirk while dropping the bags with a casual thud. "You’ll love it here—trust me."

With a dramatic flop onto the couch, Yara kicked her feet up, barely glancing at the mess scattered around her apartment. “Oh, and heads up—we’re off Twitter. Like, no twitter at all. You’re gonna have to live in the real world for a bit, babe.” She stretched lazily, as if the concept of cleaning or organizing didn’t even exist.

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the clutter, and before you could even open your mouth, she cut you off with a groan. "Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a mess. Don’t start." Yara rolled her eyes and added with a mischievous grin, “I’ll clean it...eventually.”

"Why are we even here again?" you asked, arms crossed. Yara sat up, her expression softening just a touch as she looked at you.

"Because I want you to see where I come from, my origin," she said, her voice holding just a hint of pride. "And you’re gonna try real Brazilian food. Trust me, it’s way better than those greasy burgers you keep stuffing your face with."

You chuckled, "But I love the greasy burgers."

Yara rolled her eyes playfully as she stood up, walking over with a slow, confident stride. "I honestly don’t know how you stay so hot eating all that junk," she teased, cupping your face with her hands and giving you a cheeky grin. "But don’t worry, meu amor, I’ve got you covered while we’re here. Think of this as an adventure—a chance to really get to know another side of life. It’ll be fun. You’ll see."

She leaned in with a smirk, her fiery energy undeniable. "And if you don’t have fun... well, I’ll make sure you do."