The late-morning sun hit the university courtyard in full force.
The air hovered somewhere between warm and lazy. Students were scattered across the benches some asleep over open books, others laughing too loudly the typical end-of-semester atmosphere, careless and noisy.
Lívia and I had managed to find a bench in the shade of a big tree near the cafeteria. She was eating her sandwich with visible delight whatever it was, it must've been good. Meanwhile, I was trying to make sense of the endless list of assignments the professor had thrown at us in the previous class.
"You look different," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
I looked up.
"Different?"
"I don't know… something about your face." She squinted, narrowing her eyes like she was conducting a lab experiment.
"Oh, don't give me that clinical stare right now," I joked.
"I'm serious, Helena. You look lighter. Happier. Since when does Miss Seriousness smile for no reason in the middle of the day?"
I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my sandwich.
"Maybe I'm just in a good mood."
"In a good mood? You? The girl who complains even when the day's perfect?" She tapped the straw against her juice cup, excited. "You're dating someone."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
Lívia leaned on the bench, turning her whole body toward me.
"You are. I know you are. That smile it's not your normal smile. Please, Helena, I know you too well."
I stared at her in disbelief. Since when was my smile up for scientific comparison?
"Lívia…"
"Oh, don't even try to deny it. Look at you. You're glowing like the lead in some pretentious French romance movie."
I couldn't hold back my laughter.
"That doesn't even exist."
"It does! My mom used to love that movie " She started to ramble, then caught herself. "No, wait, that's not the point. Don't change the subject. Come on, confess already."
I sighed, pretending to be exasperated, though my cheeks were already warm.
"OH MY GOD!" she practically screamed, making a few people nearby look our way. "I knew it! I absolutely knew it!"
"Keep your voice down, Lívia."
She leaned in, her grin nearly splitting her face in two.
"Who is he? It's not Miguel, is it? Please tell me it's not Miguel."
"Of course it's not Miguel. I've told you a hundred times."
"Thank God. I was about to stage an intervention."
I rolled my eyes again, trying to hide my smile.
Her eyebrows arched, eyes glinting with curiosity.
"It's that guy you mentioned before, isn't it?"
I didn't even have to answer. My smile betrayed me.
"So it's serious."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because no one dates someone outside of campus unless it's serious. It's like, the unspoken law of college life. So tell me what's he like?"
I stayed quiet for a moment, swirling the straw in my cup. A soft breeze brought the earthy smell of the nearby garden, and I couldn't help but think of him.
"Lívia…"
"Hm?"
"He's… different. Mature. Serious. I didn't plan any of this."
She grinned, pleased.
"No one ever plans it. That's why it either goes perfectly right or horribly wrong."
Before I could reply, a familiar voice interrupted us.
"Two lovely ladies and no invitation to sit?"
It was Miguel.
With the same lazy smile and that air of someone who thinks he's always welcome. Without waiting for an answer, he dropped onto the bench beside us, balancing a bottle of water and a half-crumpled notebook.
"Hello to you too, Miguel," Lívia said with mock enthusiasm.
"Hi, Lívia. Always a pleasure to witness your morning cheer," he said, flipping open the notebook.
"It's noon," I pointed out.
"Details."
He looked at me, his gray-blue eyes blinking against the sunlight.
"So, Helena, long time no see. I thought the lab projects had swallowed you whole."
"Almost. End of semester, you know how it is."
"I do. But judging by the look on your face, someone's been distracted by something more interesting than reports."
I glanced at Lívia, who suddenly pretended to be very focused on her drink. That gossip probably said something.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing," he said casually, shrugging. "It's just that Lívia here may have mentioned you've been… different lately. You know, like someone who's in love."
Lívia coughed loudly, and on purpose. Her acting was pitiful.
"Me? I never said that."
I shot her a look that made her deflate instantly.
"Okay, maybe I said it once," she admitted, completely unbothered. "But it's true. Look at her, Miguel. Tell me she doesn't look like someone who's in love."
Miguel leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms and pretending to study me.
"Ah, so that's it."
"That's what?"
"You're dating."
I sighed.
"You two are impossible."
"So it's true," he teased, half playful, half genuinely curious.
"I don't know if it's 'dating'. We're… seeing each other."
"'Seeing each other,'" Lívia repeated, laughing. "What a cute euphemism. Translation: completely smitten but too scared to admit it."
Miguel gave me a sideways look half surprised, half disappointed.
"And how long has this been going on?"
"A week," I said, lowering my eyes.
"What?" Lívia gasped. "A week and you didn't tell me? I should be your relationship godmother!"
"There's no such thing, Lívia."
"There should be. Especially for serious cases. Someone has to vet the guy first."
"It's not serious."
"It is now."
Miguel cleared his throat, forcing a smile.
"Can I ask who the lucky guy is?"
"No," I said immediately.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Wow. Mysterious."
"It's just… personal."
"Personal?" He smirked. "Now I'm curious."
"You're always curious," I said, laughing.
"And you always answer with half-truths."
"Maybe I'm just learning to keep secrets."
Lívia watched our exchange with a sly grin, sipping her juice like she was watching a soap opera.
"You two have the weirdest vibe, you know that?"
"Weird?" Miguel echoed.
"Yeah. Like when someone says, 'I'm fine,' and the other person knows damn well they're not."
"Oh, so that's what Helena's look means every time I ask about her lab work?" he teased.
"Careful, Miguel," I said, smiling. "You're about to think you're some kind of mind reader."
"And what if I am?"
"Then read me right now," I challenged, playing along.
He fell silent for a second, leaning closer, eyes locked on mine.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I see… confusion. And maybe a little fear."
I smiled faintly.
"Close, but not quite."
"Then what is it?"
"Happiness," I said simply.
Lívia squealed and clapped her hands.
"Oh great, now I'm gonna cry!"
"For God's sake," I muttered, covering my face. "You're so dramatic."
"I'm a hopeless romantic, that's different. And this" she pointed at me "is the classic beginning of a story that's going to make me suffer vicariously."
Miguel laughed. "You even dramatize other people's happiness."
"Someone has to balance this group," she replied.
We sat there for a while after that. The wind rustled the leaves above us. Miguel was fiddling with his phone, but I could feel him glancing at me from time to time. Lívia was typing furiously on her notes app, probably recording all this to use against me later.
"So," she said suddenly, "where was the first date?"
I sighed. "Lívia…"
"Don't give me that look. I need details so I can live vicariously through you."
"A café. Nothing fancy."
"Lies."
"Truth."
"And the second?"
"A dinner."
"And the third?"
"Lívia."
"Okay, fine, I'll stop." She raised her hands in surrender, though her grin said otherwise. She knew I wouldn't spill anything with Miguel sitting right there. "You're happy though, right?"
I paused for a moment.
"I am. I think so."
"Then that's all that matters."
Miguel stayed quiet, his expression softer now.
"And he treats you well?" he asked finally.
The question caught me off guard.
"He does. He's… kind. Calm. Different from anyone I've ever met."
"Thirty-four," Lívia added suddenly.
"What?" Miguel and I turned to her at once.
"That's his age, right? I knew he looked older."
I stared at her, shocked.
"How did you..."
"Female intuition." Shameless. That girl must've fished it out of me at some point. "Besides, you'd never get that glow for a guy our age."
Miguel looked away, clearing his throat.
"Thirty-four, huh."
"Lívia," I warned, but she only shrugged.
"Relax, girl. I fully support intergenerational relationships as long as the guy's hot."
"Lívia!"
"Kidding! I haven't even seen him yet, but I bet he's hot."
She laughed loud enough for half the courtyard to hear, and Miguel looked even more uncomfortable.
He soon stood up, adjusting his backpack.
"I should head to the lab. You two coming?"
"In a bit," Lívia answered. "I still have to finish Helena's emotional interrogation."
"Good luck," he said, glancing at me before walking away. "And… I'm glad you're happy."
The way he said it was simple, sincere, without irony and it lingered long after he was gone.
Lívia nudged me.
"He still likes you, you know?"
"Lívia, don't start."
"Just saying."
"And I'm just asking you to stop."
She sighed.
"Fine. But promise me that if this guy ever hurts you, I get to punch him."
I smiled.
"Deal."
She smiled too, satisfied. "Then we're good."
We said goodbye there. She headed toward the Humanities building to find her freshman cousin, and I stayed for a few seconds, watching the courtyard slowly empty.
I pulled out my phone and opened his last message:
'Don't know what time I'll be done today, but I'll stop by if I can.'
No period at the end, just that.
Simple and still, it made me smile.