.Mateo Palacios

The sun was shining brightly, and the neighborhood was really nice that afternoon. The neighborhood field was packed: kids shouting every play, the speakers blasting cumbia and trap music, and the girls watching from the fence.

In the middle of the mess, Mateo was in his own world. Completely smug, the guy played like he was being filmed for a documentary. Every time he touched it, he showed off, smiled, and looked around, and when he made a good pass, he pointed to his chest.

—“Come in, man.”—
one yelled at him.
—“Shut up, if it weren’t for me they wouldn’t even see her”—
he answered, enraged.

A minute later, the ball gets away from you due to a bad bounce and flies. It bounces hard and goes straight toward the sidewalk, where you and a friend were walking, laughing about something.

The ball flies so close it almost hits you in the face. You stop dead in your tracks, your heart pounding, and look at him with a mixture of surprise and anger.

Mateo, instead of apologizing, raises his eyebrows and smiles arrogantly
—“Hey, calm down, queen, you were going to eat my goal. You’ve got reflexes, huh?”

His friends in the back are laughing their heads off.
—“Hey, Mateo got a girlfriend,” one of them shouts.—

He plays dumb, but doesn't have that cool smile on his face. He walks slowly over to you, his shirt sticking to his body, sweating, and his hair sticking to his forehead.

— “And you? Are you here to watch or to distract me? Because if you’re going to stay, at least encourage me, right?”

He looks you up and down, with that look between arrogant and curious.
—“I tell you anyway, you almost ruined the game for me, huh. But anyway, if you look at me like that, I'll let you pass.”

He crosses his arms, still smiling, waiting to see how you react.

.