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SAMARA

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The thing about living in Ireland? You're always a bit off balance. One minute, the sun is giving you "main character" vibes, and the next, the wind is cold enough to make you doubt all life choices, especially whether you should've layered up that morning. Spring means one second you're ready to lounge in the sun, the next you're rushing to avoid looking like a windswept pigeon.

But hey, I wouldn't trade it for anything because here I am, at Preston Sheffield University, on a FULL scholarship.

HOORAH!

I am still processing how my life went from the beautiful confines of my beautiful family in Zimbabwe, and became a blend of classrooms, basketball courts, and chilly-but-invigorating Irish breezes.

It's mid-morning when I stroll out of my room and make my way to class. My little space at the dorms is cozy: a fridge for snacks and a snack station where I have all the essentials like energy bars and sour gummies (an absolute necessity), a mirror on the wall that catches my best angles, and a desk I rarely see because it's buried in textbooks and notes. Vivica has a similar setup a few doors down, but we both lucked out with our single rooms. No roommate mess, just a shared communal bathroom, and that's enough.

My first class of the day goes by with the usual hum of voices and the low tap of keyboards. My professor, an older guy with glasses that are always sliding down his nose, walks us through a project that has the kind of complexity that makes you wonder if they secretly plan to break us.

But it's all good-I'm ready. By the time I finish up and step into the sun for my second class, I'm thinking maybe this day will be smooth, maybe even peaceful.

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It's 2pm now after both my classes and I'm in the cafeteria, gathering my fried chicken strips, fries, and a generous cookie (because self-care). Viv's out running errands after class, so I'm solo today. I find a table on the outskirts, a little cozy corner with a great view of the entire cafeteria-my ideal setup. I settle in, munching on a fry, and let myself drift into my reading. It's a calm, perfect moment, just me, my food, and a break from everything.

And then-someone sits down across from me.

I don't even look up right away. You know...Cafeteria, loads of tables, maybe someone just wants to share mine. No big deal. But then I get a whiff of cologne, a really nice kind, and out of pure curiosity, I glance up. It's him.

Oh, of course.

Grandpa

"Fancy seeing you here, sugar," he says, clearly amused as he settles down with his tray, with all the casualness in the world.

I stifle a cringe. "Okay, look, I don't know what you think is going on, but I came here to eat in peace."

He chuckles, nodding as if he completely understands. "Trust me, I didn't plan this. I saw you and thought I'd just... test my luck."

I give him a once-over. He's dressed pretty casually, a hoodie and some jeans, looking like he just got off an ad for "effortlessly chill college guy."

Lol

But those hazel eyes? They're as sharp as ever, like he knows just how to get on my nerves.

"Well, congrats," I say, rolling my eyes, "because here you are, completely ruining my vibe."

He laughs, and it's surprisingly warm, like he's genuinely enjoying himself. "Couldn't resist, sugar."

I lean back and just stare at him for a second. "Please tell me you're not going to call me that again."

"Would you prefer... sweetheart?" He's grinning like this is some private joke, and okay, I'll admit, it's mildly amusing.

"Only if I can call you 'Grandpa,'" I shoot back.

He pauses, blinking. "Grandpa?"

"Well, you know, sugar, sweetheart... what's next? 'Darlin'?"

He's stifling a laugh now, clearly caught off guard. "You're quick."

"You have no idea."

For a few seconds, we both just look at each other. It's this weirdly comfortable silence, like we're playing a game where neither of us knows the rules but we're both too stubborn to lose. Finally, he shrugs, grinning again.

"So, do I get a name or is 'sugar' gonna be the only thing I know you by?"

"Samara." I say it plainly, like I'm not about to entertain any more nicknames. "And you?" I ask as if I don't already know his name.

"Damson," he says, leaning back in his seat, still looking all amused. "I'm a Finance major, in case you were curious."

"Oh, was I supposed to be curious?" I raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, unconcerned. "I mean, it's good to know what department I'm in, you know, in case you need any financial advice or someone to distract you in the cafeteria....or the court again."

We spend a few more minutes bantering until we're both nearly done with our food, mostly him laughing at my sarcasm and me resisting the urge to smile. He's funny, actually-a little too funny. But hey, I'm not gonna let him see that.

"So," he says as he stands, "shall we?"

I blink, a little thrown off. "You're... waiting for me?"

He shrugs. "Just seemed like the polite thing to do."

We both head toward the exit, the hum of cafeteria chatter fading as we step out into the sunny afternoon. The campus paths are busy with students coming and going, laughter, and chatter in the air, the perfect mix of lively and calm.

"So, you never told me your major," he says, sliding his hands into his hoodie pockets as we walk. "Let me guess-philosophy?"

"Wrong," I say, smirking. "Computer Science."

He looks genuinely impressed. "A tech whiz? Okay, color me surprised."

"And what about you, Mr. Finance Major?" I ask, giving him a side-eye. "Why finance?"

"Easy," he says, shrugging. "I like numbers, and they don't talk back."

"Ahh, so that's why you're so chatty here," I shoot back, "making up for all the numbers in your life."

"Ouch," he says, mock-clutching his heart, "but fair."

We reach a crossroad, his building off to the left and the library to the right. He pauses and turns to me, still looking way too pleased with himself.

"Well, nice chatting.......Samara. Enjoy your library time."

My name

"I wish I could say the same..... Damson. Enjoy your class though."

He laughs, giving a small wave as he heads off toward his class. I can't help it-I'm grinning a little as I turn and walk toward the library.

That was.....interesting.

The wind picks up, sending a light breeze through my hair, and for a moment, I almost look back at him. Almost. But I shake it off. I have work to do.

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...

Inside the library, I settle in at my usual spot, flipping through my notes and diving back into the project I've been working on. C.S isn't for the faint of heart, but I actually love the challenge. It has this way of absorbing all my focus-if I let it. But every now and then, a certain smirking face sneaks its way into my mind, and I have to mentally tell myself to focus. "No distractions, Samara." After all, I didn't come all the way to Preston Sheffield just to have my head turned by some guy, right?

As I wrap up around 9 p.m., I pack up, tired but feeling accomplished. I head to the cafeteria for dinner takeout. The dining hall gives us dorm kids, the option to grab our dinners to go-thank goodness for that because I am way too tired to eat in public. I pick up a pork cutlet, rice and a Caesar salad and toss in two huge muffins for later.

Back in my room, I take a hot shower, get into my coziest pajamas, and settle in with two episodes of my current K-drama obsession, Flower of Evil, letting the evening wind down as I enjoy my meal.

By 11, I'm ready to crash. I say my prayers, thanking God for the day, and close my eyes.

Just as I'm drifting off, a thought pops into my head-tomorrow's practice. The second thought that follows, unbidden, is wondering if Damson will be around.

I roll my eyes at myself.

Mara, focus on the game.

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