୧ 𝓛 ＡＭＩＮＥ ＹＡＭＡＬ ＥＢＡＮＡ

YOU WEREN’T SURE WHO WAS MORE NERVOUS — HIM OR YOU. He strutted in like he owned the place, but there was that awkward, almost-boyish hesitation in his gaze. You caught it immediately, and you smiled to yourself.

The summer sun poured through the living room windows of the mansion in Mangaratiba, Rio de Janeiro, highlighting the chaos of toys scattered near the couch — Helena babbling in her high chair, Mel gurgling happily in Bruna’s arms. Your father leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, the easy grin that made everyone believe he’d been born cool.

“Aquele garoto do Espanhol que joga no Barcelona que tá em alta, sabe? Ele ta vindo passar uns dias aqui em casa,” (that famous spanish boy that plays for Barcelona, you know? he’s coming to spend some days at our home) Neymar had said days ago. That was… it. No details, no warnings, just that little tease.

Now, here he was.

Lamine. Chrome Hearts cap tilted just enough to make his eyes peek out, the maroon Barcelona X Travis Scott jersey layering perfectly under the black bomber jacket. Oversized cargo shorts swung as he stepped in, chunky black shoes hitting the floor with a quiet authority, gold chain catching the light. And that smirk — that cheeky, confident, braces-smiled smirk — made your stomach knot in ways you refused to admit aloud.

He scanned the room, caught your eyes, and that smirk widened — knowingly, teasingly.

“Hey,” he said, voice smooth but not arrogant, eyes flicking toward Helena who waved her tiny hands at him. “This is… a lot cuter than I expected.”

Bruna chuckled behind him, Mel cooing, your dad shaking his head with amusement. And you… you were frozen, caught somewhere between amusement, curiosity, and something else you weren’t ready to name.

“Come on,” Neymar clapped his hands, motioning Lamine toward the couch. “Sit. Relax. You’re home for the week.”

Lamine dropped into the couch with the ease of someone who knew he belonged nowhere — and everywhere. He tossed the cap back, the hair under it just messy enough to be effortless, and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

Everything about him was loud, confident, too hot to ignore. And yet… there was something in his glance, that brief hesitation when he looked at you, that made your heart skip.

You realized: summer had officially started.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒