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it had been a month since argentina won the world cup. luara was happy for them, especially since it'd be lionel messi's last one, and he'd won it.
she didn't bother going back to paris with neymar, mostly because they got into an argument before he got on the jet. she'd spent christmas with her family, and spent most of her free time with them.
one thing she hadn't been able to escape, however, was relationships.
"any special new man, amoreco?" luara's mother, márcia, asked her.
luara rolled her eyes, still scrolling through her phone, "no, mamãe."
"why not, luara?" márcia whined, "you will have plenty of options. you are a beautiful woman."
"thank you, but no, i haven't really paid attention to it." she still didn't look up at her mother, busy responding to messages from her friends.
márcia sighed in annoyance, "you're not still caught up with that neymar jr are you?"
"no, mamãe."
all her mother did was hum suspiciously, turning her attention back to the laptop sitting on her lap.
every time luara visited her mother, she'd always bring up relationships in her daughter's life. she desperately wanted her to marry and have her grandchildren, and she always expressed how sick and tired she was that her daughter was still hung up on a man that she had a toxic relationship with for many years of her life.
luara hated her for it, and she had gotten used to lying to her mother about it by now, even though she could see right through her.
"luara–"
"mamãe," luara cut her mother off, finally looking up from her phone, "what?"
her mother stayed silent for a moment, "my friend has a son around your age–"
luara cut her mother off again with a groan.
"listen to me, luara." her mother hit her on her thigh with the back of her hand, "he's just gone to paris, why don't i get her to set you guys up for dinner one night?"
luara quirked a brow at her mother, "paris? i'm not in paris."
"you can go, though, no?"
she squinted her eyes at her mother, inhaling deeply. she knew that her mother knew very well who lived in paris, and she was confused that she'd suggest that.
márcia read her daughter like a book, and nodded slowly, "i know. but we aren't talking about him. we are talking about a nice man who will treat you right."
"one date." her mother held up her index finger, "see how it goes. he speaks spanish, though. lucky you know it."
she debated it for a moment, and thought fuck it. why not? paris is a big city.
"what's his name?"
"angelo."
márcia noticed the cringed expression on luara's face, "he's colombian."
"how the fuck do you know a colombian, mamãe? you've been there once."
"hey," her mother chuckled, "i used to pull a few colombian men in my day. his mother happened to be the only woman."
luara's jaw dropped in shock, a breathily laugh escaping her lips, instantly understanding her mother's hinting. the cheek.
