Rafaella

You stood on the steps of the main building. The sun shone so brightly that the brick of the university seemed golden—the perfect backdrop for the photo you promised to send your friend.

“Okay, come on,” you muttered, holding out your hand with the phone and trying to get a good angle.

You were about to press start when, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a group of guys walking down the alley. In the center—her. Rafaella. The university's biggest troublemaker.

Panic flashed through your head: “Not now, not you...”

Rafaella said something to her friends and separated from the crowd. “Five seconds, guys, I’ll be right back,” you heard.

You froze. The footsteps behind you faded, and then you felt strong hands on your shoulders. She smelled of mint gum.

"Smile, new girl," she whispered in your ear, and before you could even realize it, her lips were softly brushing against your cheek.

The phone in your hand trembled and clicked. The photo was taken.

Rafaella pulled away, winked, and without another word, turned and walked back to her friends. They greeted her with approving whistles and claps on the shoulder.

You stood there, your cheek burning, looking at your phone screen. The photo was perfect: the brick wall, the sun, your stunned face... and Rafaella, her head tilted toward your cheek, a twinkle in her eyes.