Best Mistake | Nicholas Chavez

Fifteen | I dont like your friends

The next day, Amara curled up on the couch as her mom's face appeared on the screen. "Hey, birthday girl!" her mom greeted, a warm smile brightening her face. "How was the party?" She always makes sure to face-time her mom everyday, even if it was for just a few minutes.

Amara sighed, managing a small smile. "It was... a lot. Chad's friends, the grand gestures—it all felt a bit overwhelming." She hesitated, glancing down. "Mom, do you think I'm just overthinking things?" Her mom's brow furrowed in concern. "Sweetheart, trust yourself. How do you feel about it?"

Her mom's gentle concern made Amara feel a surge of comfort. She bit her lip, debating how much to share. "I mean, he's nice. He does all these things, these big gestures, but sometimes I feel like he doesn't really see me. It's like... he likes the idea of me more than, well, me."

Her mom nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You know, honey, love doesn't have to be so loud all the time. The right person will make you feel seen in the quiet moments, too."

Amara smiled, feeling a pang of relief. "Yeah, you're right. It's just hard to tell sometimes."

Her mom softened, eyes shining. "You've always known what you need, Amara. Don't let anyone make you doubt it. And if you ever feel lost, remember—you've got people who love you just for who you are."

Amara's mom's words wrapped around her like a warm hug. She felt the weight lift, even if just a bit, knowing her mom understood her so deeply. She took a deep breath, her voice softer. "I just wish it was easier to see what's right," she admitted, her uncertainty finally out in the open.

"You'll find your way, sweetheart," her mom reassured her. "Just remember, the right person will never make you question what makes you feel like you."

Amara smiled, the ache easing. "Thanks, Mom. You always know what to say."

—••—

Amara sat next to Chad, feeling a bit out of place in the dress he'd sent over. She'd found it sweet at first, but now, it felt a bit like he was dressing her to his taste. The dinner started pleasantly enough, with casual chatter and laughter filling the table. Chad's friend, George, told stories, and Jessica, his wife, leaned in now and then to draw Amara into conversation.

As the evening wore on, though, Chad dominated the conversation, his charm turning somewhat performative. Every time Amara tried to add a comment, he'd give her a polite nod before steering things back to himself. George even joked, calling her "quiet," as if she hadn't been trying to join in.

Chad offered her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Amara's more of an observer. It's part of her charm," he added with a grin. She forced a smile, feeling a sting beneath his words.

Jessica turned her focus to Amara with a curious smile. "Italian and Egyptian is such a unique mix. How did your parents meet?"

Amara smiled politely. "My mom studied in Italy for university. She loved it so much, she decided to stay after graduating." Mentioning her family sometimes felt tricky; her dad isn't in her life, but she didn't want to dive into that here.

Jessica seemed genuinely interested. "That's beautiful. Italy sounds like a dream. Have you been back often?"

"A few times, yeah," Amara replied, relaxing a little. "I grew up speaking Italian as well as Arabic with my mom, so it's always felt like a second home."

Chad leaned in, squeezing her shoulder with a broad grin. "And she got that exotic look, doesn't she?" he said, clearly enjoying the admiration his friends were giving her. Amara forced another smile, feeling a subtle discomfort beneath his words. It wasn't just pride she heard—it felt more like he was showing her off in a weird trophy girlfriend way.