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        The day of the diner was all I thought about. When I walked her home I walked extra slow so we could talk a little longer. But when I arrived back home, reality hit. We were too different, did she even like me? "She probably didn't like white boys" I thought to myself. Whatever, she was hot  though. Her body was amazing and just thinking about it made me wish she was here. I texted her that same night and she responded soon after. I smiled. Maybe she did like me? The next day I texted her in the afternoon and we chatted back and forth for about and hour.

"Valentina" I said out loud in my room, trying to say it with the accent she taught me over breakfast. It didn't sound the same but I was getting close. When she spoke Spanish, I couldn't help but get all excited.

The more I thought of her, and the more days passed, the more I questioned the possibility of us. She was a Hispanic immigrant from Colombia with rich, brown skin and untamed hair. She wore revealing clothes and didn't care if people looked at her body or stared as she walked down the street. She knew that men were attracted to her and she used that to her advantage. Would people accept us? She was nice, but was she the kind of girl I could love?

All things considered, she was definitely not the kind of girl I would normally date. Physically or mentally. I only ever Actually dated 2 Russian girls, and one American, they were all pretty similar, physically, but they were all very sweet girls. They all had brown or blonde hair with brown or blue eyes and pale, white skin. On paper, we were not compatible, but something drew me to her. I didn't have much experience dating, especially In the US, but I felt something.

If I got her out of my head, I would eventually forget about her. She would pass, like the other girls. I thought about girls in Russia and how different it was from here. I missed the street I grew up on with all my brothers and the old lady that lived next door and her garden. My brother, the youngest, only 13 was having a hard time here. People were not so nice to him and he longed to go back home. But this was out home now and he had to get used to it. Being the oldest brother had its perks, but it was my job to protect my younger siblings and my mom.

The next few days passed and I hadn't thought of Valentina, that was until I saw her at the store. I was talking to this Other girl who I noticed staring at me. I was trying to forget about Valentina, her skin, and her legs, and her eyes, and the way she said my name. Why did it sound so perfect?

When I first saw her she changed her demeanor completely. I could tell she was running late because it was 8:07 and I knew her class started at 8. She walked confidently through the store. Candy. Go figure. I watched her as she payed and I couldn't help but look at her beautiful legs, and her thighs, and her lips, and hair. Her eyes were the most beautiful. The way she swayed her hips as she walked was hypnotizing. I felt a heaviness on my heart and suddenly, I regretted not texting her a thousand times.

The guy behind the counter noticed how beautiful she was too, and he flirted with her. Watching him made me mad. I don't know why. I didn't have the right to be angry, she wasn't my girlfriend or anything, but I was. He was in his mid to late 20s and was certainly too old for her. Couldn't he see she was wearing a high school uniform? I was severely overthinking this. What was wrong with me? I walked out the store to smoke a cigarette, a bad habit.

I sparked my lighter twice but no luck. I noticed her walk toward me with a look that I couldn't Quite place. When she finally reached me she stared in my eyes and I couldn't look away from her.

"Need a light?"  she said, in a soft and seductive tone that could make any man drool.

I put the cigarette to my lips in awe and let her light it for me. I stayed quite the whole time just staring at her.

Her nails were painted the brightest shade of  pink I'd ever seen. Her lips were as glossy as ever. I wondered if it would be sticky if we kissed. As soon as it was lit, she walked away abruptly with her Short school skirt flowing with the movement of her hips. My eyes grazed her hips and her legs and I stared at her until she was gone.

"Fuck" I was the only thing I could think. I did like her. And I couldn't shake the feeling that I had severely fuck up. What do I do? Should I text her? I was too embarrassed. She was like a magician, everything I thought about her before vanished and I saw only her. I only saw her smile, and her confidence, the way she fluffed up her hair, and the way she looked at dogs on the street.

Only her.

Writing as a boy is weird.
Let me know if this is shit

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