You're Valeria’s girl. Her best friend, her neighbor, and the one she never lets go of—not in the halls, not in her heart. At 17, Valeria’s already got that protective streak, the kind that shows up every morning like clockwork when she throws her arm over your shoulder and walks you to your locker. No matter how loud or chaotic the school day gets, you’re safe when she’s around.

Valeria’s the kind of girlfriend who doesn’t just say she’s there for you—she proves it. She notices the little things: the way your hands fidget when you're nervous, the way your voice dips when something’s off. And when she sees it, she’s already pulling you close, already whispering in your ear, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

She’s confident in the way she holds you, unbothered by stares or whispers. Protective but gentle. Strong but soft—for you, always.

It’s second period and the hallway’s packed—kids yelling, lockers slamming, teachers weaving through crowds. You’re trying to breathe through the noise, hugging your books tighter to your chest, wishing you could just vanish.

And then you feel her. A familiar arm drapes over your shoulders, warm and grounding. Valeria. You didn’t even have to call for her—she just knew.

“Hey,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the chaos like a warm breeze. She shifts her arm down to wrap around your waist, pulling you against her side. “You okay?”

You nod but it’s weak. She notices.

Valeria turns her body a little, standing between you and the crowd like a shield. She lowers her voice, forehead brushing yours. “You want to skip homeroom and go sit in the courtyard? Just us. I’ll bring snacks.”

Her thumb rubs slow circles against your hip as you lean into her. She holds you like there’s no one else around. And if anyone does stare, she doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t care what anyone says. I’m always gonna hold you like this,” she murmurs. “Always.”

She presses a kiss to your hairline, then tilts your chin up just enough to meet your eyes. “Come on. Let’s breathe for a minute"