[ A  D R E A M ]

"it was a dream--it was so out of our reach."

-

"Gio is coming back from Spain tonight!" My mother gushed after having talked on the phone with her best friend, who happened to be his mother.

Uninterested, I shrugged. "So?"

"So?" My mom gasped. "What do you mean so? You and little Giovani used to be best friends, remember?"  She sighed, thinking of memories that had long passed reality.

"That was like a hundred years ago." I reminded. "He hates me now."

Mom scoffed, "Don't be a drama queen. Lilliana told me he got invited to a dinner at Los Pinos tomorrow ans he wants you to be his date. She also said he is so excited to see you again. Come on Kamila, don't leave him hanging."

"Are you sure its not Giselle who he wants to invite?" I asked in a sarcastic tone.

"No." Mom replied with a shake of her head. "Now go get dressed because Lilliana invited us for a welcome dinner."

I rolled my eyes. "Joy."

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At the Dos Santos house, everything was hectic. His mother ran around the entire house, making sure everything was perfect for her son who would be returning from Spain after being away for so long.

She decorated the house to make it all festive with balloons and pinned a huge banner at the very entrance of the house. Meanwhile she prepared all his favorite meals in the kitchen. I was helping her chop some cabbage for the enchiladas she had made when I asked her, "You really missed your little boy, huh Lillian?"

She teared up next to me as she stirred a pot filled to the top with pozole. "Every day he's away from me feels like a thousand years." She admitted.

The doorbell rang through the house. The men were in the livingroom watching Mexican football, but none of them bothered to get it. Wiping my hands clean on my apron, I offered, "I'll get it." And crossed the entire house to get to the front door. In my old woman apron and hair pulled back into a bun, I looked all but appealing, but ut didn't matter to me. I wasn't there to impress Giovani. I could have cared less that he was returning from Spain. It was everyone else who seemed thrilled at the idea of having him back home. I, on the other hand, had all but fond memories of him.

I opened it to be met by a tall, tanned skin half-Brazilian, who narrowed his eyes at me when he saw me. "Who are you?" Adding another question. "Does Lilliana Ramirez de dos Santos still live here?"

"I'm Kamila Noval." I responded in a monotone voice. 

"Kamila Noval?" His face contorted in confusion. "Ah! I remember you. The daughter of that guy who has a mattress company downtown." He recalled. "Last time I saw you, didn't you have braces, glasses and no boobs?" An amused smile made way onto his face.

He pushed past me to get into the house.

"I was twelve years old. And you haven't changed a bit." I spat. "Still arrogant and annoying."

"If I remember correctly." He pointed out with a grin. "You used to have a crush on me. And my mom says we were friends at one point, though I don't remember that ever happening."

I blushed. "I never had a crush on you."

He set his luggage down next to the door and strolled into the living room where his relatives and my dad all got up to greet him as if he were some sort of National hero. When Lilliana heard him from the kitchen, she emered with tears brimming her eyes.

"My little boy." She cried as he ran over to hug her. Crying into his shoulder, she said, "I wish your two brothers could be here too."

But both had stayed in Spain.

Being professional footballers, they didn't have permission from their club team to travel to their home town before the olympics would begin in a month.

While they had their moment of tears, greeting the golden boy, I retreated to the toilet where I took the apron off and straightened out the dress mom had forced me to wear. I let my hair loose and it cascaded down my back in short waves and took my thick glasses off, replacing them with my contact lenses. Looking at myself in the mirror one last time, I was ready for dinner.

I made my way down the stairs slowly, hoping not to trip and fall over in my heels. My sister Giselle waited for me at the bottom, a grin evident on her face. "You look so pretty." She cooed with excitement. "Gio will die when he sees you."

"He already saw me earlier and he wasn't impressed." I told her. "And it honestly doesn't matter to me if he liked me how I look now. I'd rather be liked for being dorky over being liked for being goodlooking. Then it'll mean he likes me for me."

"Looks are the attention grabbers." She explained. "And personality is what will keep him by your side."

She linked arms with me and we strolled into the kitchen where everyone was waiting for us.

"Its about time--" Giovani started in a joking tone, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me.

My mom and his looked at each other with hopeful smiles and Giselle raced to find a seat, leaving the only other available spot next to him. They had planned this from the beginning, all of them, and I shot them a killer glare.

"I will kill you." I mouthed at both moms and my sister.

I made my way to the only empty seat and plopped myself down by his side. He immediatly leaned towards me and whispered, "When did this happen?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked innocently.

"When did what I saw earlier turn into this?" He emphasized.

"I'm not the glasses wearing dork you used to tease." I said, my lips coming together to form a white line.

He whispered a response. "I can see that."

"So--" His mother began, attempting to break the ice. "How has your time in Spain been?"

Poking at the food on his plate and digging into it hungrily, he responded, "Everything's great. I just get home sick a lot and I miss my mother's cooking." He winked at her. "Mexican restaurants aren't very authentic in Spain."

"Ohhh." His mom smiled, changing the subject. "Weren't you telling me the other day how you missed little Kamila."

"Actually," He replied, "You brought her up, mom."

"Kamila didn't miss any of your games for the preolympic tournament." My mom chimed.

I almost choked on my pozole. "Mom." I eyed her.

"What?" She responded innocently.

"I didn't watch it for him. You know I watched the tournament for Cubo Torres." I reminded her.

"Hm," Gio laughed at my words. "Cubo isn't that great. He won't even be going to London with us because we're taking Oribe instead."

"Which is totally unfair." I spat. "Have Pulido and Cubo qualify you to the tournament only to end up replacing them by a guy who's almost thirty years old." 

He shrugged, "That's the way it is in football sometimes."

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After dinner, Giselle and I sat on the livingroom couch, flipping through the channels on the television.

Gio walked into the room and plopped down next to me. Rolling my eyes at him, I scooted closer to my sister, resuming the conversation we were having about which eyeshadow palettes Giselle was yet to add to her collection.

"Hey," He said to me, trying to get my attention.

I turned in my seat to look at him, with annoyance evident on my face. "Haven't you bothered me enough today?"

"Come on." He scoffed. "I just want to be friends."

"Oh, now you want to be friends?" I mocked.

"We used to be friends, Kamila." He reminded me. 

"Now you remember." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Who could forget?" He asked me, making my heart flutter for some reason. When I remained silent for a few minutes, he added, "Our parents want us to be friends again. So why not?"

I shook my head. "They practically want us to get married."

"I don't mind." He responded with a smirk.

"This is why we can't be friends." I pointed out. "You're just interested in me because I don't look the way I used to."

"Then give me a chance to know you and I'm sure I'll like you for you." He told me. "I'll be here all month before going off to the olympics. If I can't win you over after this one month, I'll never bother you again."

I thought about it. It sounded reasonable. With a nod, I smiled, "Deal. You have one month."

"Deal." He grinned.

And we shook on it.

-

this obviously takes place about a month and a half before the olympic games begin in london.

so i hope you like the first chapter.

thank you for reading and supporting.

it means so much to me.

i love you all. this is dedicated to my babys who supported me through my seleccion mexicana depression when they lost the cup. you made me strong and got me throught a tough time.

-clary xx